by A. R. Crebs
Petey squawked, and quickly retreated, backing away from the cave’s entrance. Gaius’ heart remained heavy for the pitiful creature.
Azera’s eyes churned. “I foresee much conflict in our near future.”
“Euclid’s about to get the trouble he’s always wanted.” Gaius glowered.
How quickly fate was falling into place. Gaius expected it to slide ever so gently, where he could follow the trail of betrayal. Reality always proved to be much more difficult. The pot of lukewarm hate between the races had suddenly raged into a rolling boil. Gaius predicted the worst was yet to come.
"Resurrection"
Chapter 24
Dovian sat upon the floor of his cell in the confinement tower. He was cold, hungry, thirsty, bored. On any regular day, he’d enjoy being alone in peace and quiet, but this was entirely different. He didn’t bother touching the bars locking him in. All knew of the tower’s power and not to risk it. A few hours or a couple days, Dovian wasn’t sure how much time had passed since he had been convicted. Insomnia and stress consumed him. He was at a loss for what to do. Loneliness began to settle as he hadn’t seen or heard from anyone since Azera brought him to this terrible place of waiting. Being the only one housed in the tower, it felt like solitary confinement. Would he have a trial? Or was he doomed to sit in this cell for the rest of eternity until he went mad or found a way to kill himself? He grasped his hair, hissing through his teeth. Were visitors allowed? He wasn’t sure of the rules of the confinement towers.
As he pondered these questions, the gate at the end of the hall creaked open. Dovian raised his head. Perhaps it was Azera. Maybe Sir Gaius. Dovian stood, no matter how tiresome the task seemed. He instinctively reached for the bars but halted. Boot heels clunked against the stone floor. The visitor was female, but not I’Lanthe. Dovian felt tears burn his eyes.
“Are you in there?” came a trembling cheap.
“Lita?” Dovian managed a whisper, but it came out broken and scared.
His cousin fidgeted as she halted in front of the cell. “Wanted to show you something. Azera saw through its disguise, but he still allowed me in to see you.” She kept her arms behind her back.
Dovian’s weary expression lifted into a look of intrigue. “Why must you always risk getting into trouble?”
“I was excited!” Her face lit up with a smile as she held out her hands. Tightly within her grasp was a solid box with a strip of light as its handle. Dovian didn’t need much time to figure out the secret behind the item.
“Lita…Azera allowed you to bring a weapon inside here?” He gaped at the object, tempted to reach between the bars to touch it.
The mischievous woman grinned. “I may have brought him his favorite cookies as a bribe.”
Dovian feigned a weak smile.
“Aw, come on! We all know you’re innocent. You’re only in here because of protocol and to appease those annoying councilmen.”
Dovian cleared his throat, shaking his head. “Indeed. I’ll be out soon, I’m sure of it. In the meantime, let’s focus on something else. Show me what, exactly, you’ve created.”
Excited, she shook the box once. With a crack, it enveloped in light, extending to the ground. The item became a double-speared staff. Dovian cocked his head to the side, intrigued. The edges of the blade were odd in design, but no doubt useful.
“I’m curious as to the shape.” He inspected the weapon.
Lita held up one finger. Collapsing the center, she pulled apart the two curved blades. Dovian twitched, becoming more inquisitive. Lita’s spear could fold into an entirely new weapon, 2 swords similar in style to a falchion.
“You couldn’t make up your mind,” Dovian chuckled.
Lita smirked, holding up her finger once more. She pieced the swords together, the hand guards overlapping and locking it into place at an angle. Her fingers lightly traced a string of light from one end of the blade to the other on top. She held it out at arm’s length, pulling a larger beam of light between her fingers which she held against the string. Now it was a bow, her light would be used for arrows.
“Couldn’t decide,” she agreed. “So, I made a staff, swords, and bow.”
Dovian’s fingers wiggled. He desperately wanted to hold the weapon. It was entirely unique; he’d never seen a design quite like it.
“You amaze me, Lita.”
“You like it?” she asked, thrilled. “It’s all mine, linked to my DNA. It can fire only my arrows.”
“Show me again,” Dovian demanded.
The woman proudly showed off the weapon, transitioning between the forms repeatedly, a bit faster each time.
“Well? Do I get an A?” she asked.
He smiled, giving a short nod. “You get an A+.”
She hopped, holding the bow tightly against her chest. “I haven’t shown Karter yet.”
“I’m sure he’ll be as impressed as I am, perhaps even more.” Dovian’s amused expression faltered. “Have you spoken to him…since?”
Lita gnawed on her lower lip. “Uh, yeah.”
Dovian awaited her response, the silence painful.
“He knows, deep down, that you couldn’t do such a thing. It kind of eats at him that he hasn’t been able to do anything about it.” Lita stared at her boots, kicking at a chipped piece of stone on the floor.
“And…my father?” His solemn expression was heartbreaking.
“Dovian, you know your father would never believe you to do something like that. I know you two struggle, but you have to know that he worries and cares for you more than anything in the world.”
“I feel as if I’ve let him down once again.” Depression began to sink in.
“You haven’t let anyone down. Remember, you’re innocent. You’ve got nothing to feel guilty about. Stop blaming yourself for once.” Lita folded up the weapon, creating the intricate box once again.
Dovian dropped to the floor and leaned back against the wall. He slung an arm over his knee, his eyes set on a crack on the opposite side of the cell floor.
“You didn’t kill those humans. You didn’t kill your mother, either. You can’t stop the things that are out of your control. You need to learn that sometimes, things happen for a reason. To teach you lessons.”
Dovian peered at his cousin, wondering why she was so philosophical all the sudden.
“If mistakes and tragedies never occurred, this world would be a boring place. There is no perfection here, Dovian. Only flaws. But we can learn from the flaws around us and do our best to prevent them from happening again. No, you don’t deserve this, but take this time to realize how many people are at your side. Nobody truly believes you’re a murderer.”
Dovian let out a harsh breath. “I imagine there are many.”
“Nobody that matters,” Lita corrected. “We are as flawed as those who were here before us. As the humans. For now, trust that the truth will be known. Accept that your family and I care about you. Your friends care about you. We will get this figured out. Own your innocence. Being depressed and mopey doesn’t help you in the least.”
“I’ll try. It’s a bit difficult.”
Lita crouched on the other side of the gate. “Well, as long as you try.”
He felt entirely too vulnerable in his cage.
“I’ll bring you some brownies later.”
Dovian hummed a quick laugh.
The clanging of church bells rang out, the sound reverberating against the walls of the tower. Dovian looked toward the single barred window high on the wall of his cell. He could see the clouds, but nothing else. Lita quickly sprung to her feet.
“I gotta go.”
“Those are for Quentin, aren’t they?” Dovian barely managed to speak.
Lita sighed. “Yeah.”
“I can’t even attend his funeral.” Dovian palmed his forehead.
“He won’t blame you, Dovian.”
“I should be there, to comfort his wife and children,” he whispered.
Lita’s
face fell. Dovian had no idea that Quentin’s wife and youngest were also dead. She debated but hadn’t had the time to tell him. The funeral was already beginning, she had to leave.
“I’ll tell you all about it when I visit again. There are some things you should know about…the event.”
“What aren’t you telling me?” His fearful expression ate away at her heart.
“I’ll tell you later, I promise. Just be patient. I have to go.” Lita timidly reached for the bar but halted. She didn’t want to test its power but wanted to hold his hand.
“Tell him I’m sorry.”
Lita cleared her throat. “I will.”
Distant singing echoed through the land. Lita quickly said goodbye and raced down the hall. After a speedy rap at the door, Azera allowed her to leave. He eyed her, his expression only hinting at a form of pity. Lita hurried to the end of the hall, and then looked over her shoulder at the top of the spiraling stairs. Giving a smirk, she stepped atop the railing and hopped over the side. With her robes fluttering around her, she dropped down the center of the tower all the way to the bottom and landed softly, her hands held out to the side.
“Good form,” came a deep echo rumbling throughout the building.
Lita sharply exhaled and snapped her fingers. Azera still saw her. Shrugging, she marched through the entry doors and flew the rest of the way to the church for Quentin’s ceremony. She felt guilty leaving Dovian behind. She didn’t want to seem as if she were taking the situation lightly, but she owed it to her cousin to remain positive. Dovian always pulled her through her toughest moments. It was about time she kept faith in him and did the same.
The church was filled, as expected. Quentin was a friendly, caring man. He and his family didn’t deserve the traumatic experience. Lita closed her eyes, listening to the Heaven Song. Somewhere, in all those voices, she knew Quentin and his wife were there. With age, Lita had become more accepting of death. It was only difficult when the passing was caused by something unjust or sinister. Lita eased into place at the back of the line where she waited to give her condolences to the remainder of Quentin’s family and pay her respects to the dead. She reached into her coat, retrieving a few white roses for Quentin, his wife, and son.
The hall echoed with vocals from the choir and the garbled sobs of those in mourning. It was an overcast day, the sunlight fighting against the clouds for dominance. Lita shivered. Something didn’t feel right, but it was expected in this case. Quentin and half his family were murdered in his own home by a human. There was an unease about the room. Nobody truly felt safe anymore. Lita looked to the front of the room. Quentin’s daughter stood to the side. She wept into a handkerchief as her newlywed husband rubbed her shoulders. To her right was her brother, Antron. Antron had grown into a fine warrior, like his father. Lita hadn’t spoken to Quentin’s family outside of a few proper introductions and niceties. Antron had been at war during the time of the attack and rushed home for the funeral. The young man remained stoic, his chin clenched tight, his jaw muscles twinging every now and then. His anger rolled from his form. Most visitors barely said more than a word or two before passing by. Sorcēarians handled death typically in one of two ways—with bittersweet sadness or absolute rage. The young man was a ticking time bomb.
Standing in the long line made Lita dizzy. She closed her eyes, rubbing her temples. As she looked over the crowd once again, she realized she had already moved halfway down the aisle. Lita swayed, her jade eyes searching the crowd. The uneasiness boiled in her belly, and she was unsure why. Taking a deep breath, she closed her eyes again and massaged her forehead. A swirl of noise enveloped her, and she almost lost her balance. Someone steadied her.
“Are you alright?” a man asked.
Lita gasped, realizing she was now close to the front of the room. She shook her head, not recognizing him. “Just a bit dizzy. I’ll be fine.”
He gave her a concerned smile and nodded in acceptance.
Lita frowned. Time was skipping on her. A few shallow whispers pulled her attention to Quentin’s son once again. He spoke with Euclid, of all people. Lita couldn’t help the furrow of her brow. Since when did Euclid act nice to anyone, especially Quentin’s family? Euclid leaned toward the boy’s ear and squeezed his shoulder.
“I know this is a tough time, Antron. We will have our justice,” Euclid spoke softly.
Lita’s eyebrow raised. ‘What trouble are you up to, Euclid?’
Antron palmed Euclid’s shoulder in return, nodding. “The meeting is tonight, correct?”
Euclid caught Lita’s lingering gaze, she quickly looked forward, approaching Quentin’s standing casket. She lay the flower at his feet and gave a small prayer, keeping her ears attentive to Euclid’s conversation.
“Yes. You know of the location?” Euclid continued.
“Yes,” Antron responded.
Lita slowly moved to the corpse of Valeria and then Homier. She whispered her condolences to the living daughter, Tienna, and then brushed shoulders with Euclid. He wordlessly peered at Lita, and then looked back at Antron.
“Until I see you next,” Euclid whispered. Antron nodded.
Euclid lazily eyed Lita once more before moving on.
“Lita, correct?” Antron spoke up.
Lita made a noise, surprised. “Uh, yes, I am.”
“My father was good friends with Euclid and Dovian. He’s your cousin?”
“Yes, Dovian is.”
“Is he here? I’d like to thank him for being so good to Father all these years.” Antron looked over the crowd.
“Uh, he’s…unfortunately…not able to make it today.” Lita twiddled her fingers.
Antron’s face fell into a look of disappointment.
“Believe me, he would if he could. In fact, he’s told me to tell you and your sister how greatly saddened he is by this news. He’s devastated he can’t be here. I’m sure he’ll pay his proper respects as soon as he can.”
Antron gave a short bow. “Understandable. I’m sure his duties are of great importance for him to not be here.”
Lita gave a nervous laugh. “Y-yeah. They are.”
Antron held out a hand. “Thank you for being here.”
She smiled and wrapped her fingers around his. “My condolences. Let I, or anyone in my family, know if you need anything.”
Antron tried to smile but failed miserably. “Of course.”
“Peace be with you and yours.” Lita gave a small nod and removed her hand. She quickly moved to the side, catching Euclid’s icy glare. A sudden flash of light seared her eyes, her mind swirling. Lita stumbled to the side, her pupils pointed sightlessly in the direction of the Azure man. Making a strange sound, Lita fell to the floor, her body quaking and shaking, her eyes darting back and forth as visions sped through her mind, whispering dark unknown secrets.
***
The pale firelight reflected in the eyes of every Sorcēarian within the tomb. Euclid stood in the center, surrounded by far more than he could have hoped for. His back was to his mother’s corpse, her death being his inspiration to press on with his agenda. The cemetery was one of the quietest places for gathering. No one would suspect an assembly there.
“This has gone on far too long. I, as I assume is the case with many of you in this room, never thought I’d turn my back on humanity. But these past fifty years alone we’ve seen the death of more of our kind than the last three-hundred combined. It’s escalating. The Elders speak of the old rules; they are not transitioning to the ever-growing darkness of this world.” An orb of light rested in Euclid’s palm.
“My mother and little brother were unjustly killed. My father…stricken by grief killed himself. I cannot sit back and allow things like this to continue.” Antron stood to the right of Euclid, a ball of flame between his fingers. Each member of the gathering held their own form of light. It fueled power to Euclid so he could maintain his secrecy spell without draining his own energies. “It isn’t fair that my father should feel in s
uch a way toward self-defense in his own home. The Elders have branded a flawed ideology within our minds that we cannot rightfully kill without sacrifice, that we cannot protect ourselves.”
Another spoke, “The humans plague us with their wars. We fight by their rules. We are tormented for years, spend lifetimes away from our families and friends. For what? To allow them to persist in their violent, selfish ways? Were we not meant to be here to guide them? My questions about the Elders’ judgments rise every day. Why are we not stopping the wars single-handedly?” Euclid didn’t know the speaker very well but was aware that he had lost a son and daughter due to the constant wars. This was the case with nearly every person in the room.
Euclid stepped forward. “I’ve had these questions myself. I’ve even brought them up with members of the Elder Council many times. And I keep receiving the same answers. I’m sure you all know what happened when I stood up for myself and my friends.” Euclid glared, his eyes shifting to those around him. “I had my status stripped and was denied any further development in other classes. You defy the Elders; they deny you your power and rights.”
“And what of your friend, Dovian?” one spoke up toward the back of the room.
Euclid’s face hardened, his hands clenching. “Another example of humanity’s treacherous ways.”
“Didn’t he kill a couple humans?” another voice chimed in.
Euclid gritted his teeth. How word had quickly spread of that ordeal. He didn’t like the smug look on the man’s face. Dovian being in prison because of him was no laughing matter. Euclid hadn’t meant for that to happen, but it was the best solution at the time. Antron gave the Azure man a questioning look.
“He was framed,” Euclid quickly spouted. “It was a lie. The members of the World Council are covering for their own. They’ve done well to conceal their deceits before.”
“Yes, I’ve seen it myself during the Walten trial. The human lied. Even Azera himself couldn’t tell the difference until he adjusted the lighting of the vision,” one replied.
Antron shivered. Hearing the name of the one responsible for his family’s death ignited his fury once more.