Jeremy leaned over the railing, his gaze sweeping over ruined buildings, useless train tracks and all the petty, oblivious people crawling over the surface of the whole damned trash heap. She was here, somewhere among all this garbage. Somewhere in the dying light of the Star of the Gold Coast, she existed — just another star that wouldn’t let him sleep, a distant and incessant radiance that glowed softly but was surrounded by a continuing violence, and that ceases to burn long before he could ever accept it. She was here, but she wasn’t alone. He crushed the rail beneath his grip.
Go find Tregenne and be patient. You’re wasting your energy. She’ll come to us. He closed his eyes for a moment, drawing his brows together tightly as he released his breath in a rumbling hiss. “Fuck Tregenne. I can do this without that elitist asshole. And why would she show up there? If Serafin has any sense, if he—” Jeremy paused, tearing free the crushed piece of metal beneath his palm before he sat, heavily, staring down at the potential drop below him. He began again, soothed by the steel fragment shattered in his tightened grasp. “I just know he won’t let her go near Tregenne.”
“He won’t? Oh yeah, you know that because you both share a hobby, right?” Evangeline was standing over him, smiling, her wounds wrapped neatly as if they were accessories to compliment her outfit.
“Calm down, Ev. Your eyes bug out when you’re jealous. It’s disturbing.” He sighed, turning his gaze to the horizon, the flaming orange circle that descended reminding him of the decoration painted on the tower at his back. “Why are you here anyways? Go follow Tregenne around. You can congratulate each other on being in Za’in’s good graces.” He threw the shrapnel in his hand out into the distance. “This is so stupid. Three Archs to catch one girl—”
Evangeline giggled as she sat down beside him. “You’re not an Arch anymore, Saros. And I’m just here because I like to watch you talk to yourself.”
“He shuts up when you’re around. What do you think that means?” He hung his head, letting a short, dry laugh fall from beneath his hair.
“Maybe he’s just leaving us alone together,” she murmured, sliding closer to his side.
Jeremy raised his head sharply, and then immediately froze, regretting his strong reaction. “You can’t be serious.”
“Well, why not? There were some times with you that were worth remembering…”
“Just spit it out, Ev. What is this all about?”
“Why does it have to be—”
He stood suddenly, turning his back to her. “He wants you to do this? Don’t even bother.” He could feel her rise and step behind him, her fingers traveling gingerly up the backs of his arms, stroking the blackened bones that had begun to gather between his shoulder blades. A cold shudder moved him, and then held his body still. “What are you doing?”
Her lips brushed against the dense mass of fetters on his back. “You’re not the same man, Saros. You’re not just a man anymore. Both of us, we’re something better now. Forget that mongrel bitch. There’s nothing special about her. She was just born with some ancient blood, and was oblivious to it her whole life! She didn’t earn it. We know what to do with her resources; she might as well be a tree or a cow. Let’s just finish this damn mission.” She pressed closer, tightening her grip on the fetters as she released a breathless sigh. The bones bruised and scraped her hands, but her yearning only grew as she caressed them, breaking her voice into short, husky gasps. “Oh God, you don’t even know what you’re becoming…”
Jeremy broke free from whatever internal force was deadening his limbs and he pulled violently away from her. “And you know what’s happening to me? Watching whatever it is killing me, it’s exciting to you, Ev? I might be fucked up, but I’m not about to join you in some master race project. This, all of this, is nothing to be proud of.” His disgust left him helpless but to stare at her, the outline of her form shifting in the changing light of the rapidly setting sun.
Evangeline regarded him coolly, disappointment quickly dissolving her earlier passion. “Well, now you’re getting ahead of yourself. You have such strong opinions for someone that can’t see the beauty of his new potential. No one said you’re dying. So far, does it look like either one of us can be killed?” Her eyes left him to gaze down at the broken railing. “It’s such a waste, but you can be faithful to her if that’s what you want. I just thought I might help you relax; it looks like you could use the release. But please, Saros, no matter what new feats you can perform or what voices you hear, don’t mistake yourself for Lord Za’in. You can remember the past however you’d like, but I was never in love with you.”
He threw his head back for a moment, stretching his shoulders and spine. That cold, sharp fear that had paralyzed his body and distorted his perception had cleared, leaving only a sleep-clogged sense of embarrassment at his earlier weakness. “Yeah, and I killed you, Ev. Whatever sick acts of violence you treasure as your only connection to Za’in…don’t mistake my unkindness as evidence of affection.” He turned around, making his way to the curving ladder that would lead him back to the earth below.
She frowned. “If you hate me, then why did you carry me safely out of that last battle?” she cried out to the shadow he had descended into.
“I never claimed to be too fond of myself either,” he called back.
Jeremy ignored her indignant chattering as he made the long climb down. He was determined to evade her, at least for the next few hours. Even with their mutual dislike, he knew he had wounded her pride enough for her to temporarily keep her distance from him. He sighed, almost satisfied. Walking faster along the darkened roads of Azevin was a useless defense against the uneasiness that his encounter with Evangeline had reawakened.
He didn’t want Ev. But that didn’t mean that there wasn’t a time when…well, it was never that. It was never her that he wanted, but a simple moment of oblivion, giving up control, just for a short time, to whatever basic, animal compulsions he could indulge. Then he could forget he was human. He could stop all the damn voices in his head. But now things were different. He wasn’t sure what kind of creature he was, and those internal voices weren’t his own anymore. The memory of all the excitement, frustration, and fleeting peace that Evangeline once offered now left him with the nauseating sense that every event in his life, even before his almost five years as a soldier, was a part of someone else’s plan. It was as if all he could do was react to these uncontrollable forces, while every choice he made just reinforced this predetermined order. Every time he tried to climb out of that choking web, he found himself more isolated. The last time he felt any connection at all, to anything real…
Jeremy suddenly stopped walking. The day before, he was certain he felt her. Kayla had reached out, fought through the boundaries between them, and found him. But he was sure it was some kind of strategic move on her part. Drawing out his memories of those nights with Evangeline…she was just searching for information about her new enemy. Not that it helped her. It was so long ago and it was worthless. Ev was an excuse and he was a novelty. It ended just two years after it began, when he became an Arch. She longed for that closeness to Za’in and he was just some kid, ten years her junior. With her limited abilities, she was lucky to be an Ophan. It was jealousy that broke their bond on Evangeline’s end, but he was freed from her by a new sense of control. As an Arch, he might be making the world darker, but he’d get to stand above it as the sun crashed down. He could sleep easier at night, without using her to dull his faculties.
It wasn’t a pleasant reminder of his past, but still, Kayla reached into him. She wanted to. His legs were shaky as he began walking again, the movement meant to ease the sudden ache in his chest. He’d find her here, just as she found her way into his thoughts. Jeremy closed his eyes, his lids twitching with the acknowledgment of the pain that their connection brought him. She was looking for something that she had no right to drag out, and just a few hours after he discovered how easily she replaced him. Her energy was questioning; sh
e wanted to see. So, fine, he gave her what she asked for. She could have everything that tore him up, if that’s what she wanted. His breath caught in his throat as another stabbing throb shot through the nerves beneath his fetters. He didn’t anticipate his aggression having negative effects on his own body. Did this mean that Kayla won that battle, or was she in even worse shape?
“So you’re not gonna object to this? As long as what I do leads her to you and I don’t tell her to run, right?” he muttered. Za’in was silent. Jeremy’s steps quickened with his sudden anger. The inconvenient moments that voice chose to give orders, information, encouragement, or to disappear completely, were maddening. He had no plan and Za’in knew it. Whatever happened when he saw Kayla again would be twisted by that foreign force within him, and his actions would never be completely his own. Nothing could be done about it. He kept moving forward, losing track of everything except for the steady impact of each step, letting that rhythm drive out the details of the outside world.
Jeremy tried to remember her face. Last time he saw her, it seemed like her features just wouldn’t come into focus. He struggled to recall how it felt to touch her, but her warmth died somewhere past his fingertips. His ability to experience physical sensation seemed to fluctuate wildly between dulled, callous perception and painfully intense awareness, and he was beginning to doubt if his own will ever held dominance over his body. The world was falling away. When was the last time he was ever really with her? That night, beneath the banyan tree, he could feel her against his skin, but that sensation was now some alien and dreamlike memory. What was it like before those fetters swallowed his limbs? He searched for an earlier encounter, before he found her there, alone, among the ruins. It was then, when the tower came down. But his vision was blurred that night, and he couldn’t remember her features under the flickering, florescent bulbs.
So this was all bullshit, right? Jeremy’s chest felt as if it would burst under the pressure of his frustration. He couldn’t forget her, he was consumed with this need for her, but he couldn’t even piece together one clear memory. Was this emotion he’d mistaken for love fabricated by Za’in with the purpose of manipulating his actions? He was being used, just because she was…
…Steelryn.
His brow contracted as he remembered when she first told him her name. She was so oblivious. He couldn’t believe that just moments after meeting a stranger, she’d reveal something like that. At the time he wanted to laugh. It would be too easy to get what he wanted. But it didn’t really turn out that way. Kayla was different. She was once some legend, some crystallized idea of the perfect prisoner that would earn him the perfect reward as he delivered Za’in’s perfect weapon. But she just wouldn’t fit into that role he had imagined. She wasn’t this inanimate treasure he could just hand over. Nothing he ever saw before had eyes like hers. Those golden eyes took in the entire world, regarding it as if it was something new, as if it mattered what happened to it. He found a strange fascination in that, even if it meant she was impractical and doomed to fail. Her eyes watched him too. He liked the careful way she stared; she was untrusting, but she understood her own helplessness. That kind of honesty was something jarring. It was an uncomfortable surprise, like being shaken awake, and she kept catching him dozing. He saw how she ran towards him on the shore, the first time he fought Serafin. Her one thought was to protect him, and she didn’t care what happened to herself. Why? Why would she do that for him? Why, after he tore her from her goal, did she then listen to him talk for hours, under the stars, in his bed?
He couldn’t breathe. She was sitting on a golden floor, surrounded by delicate floating hooves. She couldn’t see him. She was alone in the darkness, below a high ceiling, in an abandoned building. She couldn’t see him. Kayla was there on the carousel that must still be in the old Azevin Mall. The world came crashing back and he was on familiar ground again. He was running down the boulevard towards her. She was there. All his awareness was focused on her, but she couldn’t see him. Because, like she said, there wasn’t anything to reach for anymore.
Jeremy stopped. It never made sense anyways. He was nothing but Za’in’s tool from the beginning. Once she got a wider look at the world, her eyes were clearer and he lost whatever luster had earlier caught her attention. He looked down at his hands. Ev was right. He didn’t know what he was becoming, and although he was tied tighter to Kayla with every breath, their worlds were growing so separate that they were destined to tear each other apart if they tried to inch closer.
He knew where she was, but he couldn’t just swoop in and take her away. Even if he ignored her resistance, where would they go? Jeremy began to slowly walk again, each painful step ending in a numbing sensation. There was nowhere to take her, because the only place he had to go right now was Tregenne’s. Za’in had been too quiet for too long. “There was no reason to try to stop me, because you knew it had to end up this way.”
My hope for you has always been that you’d find your way by simply opening the door, instead of hurling yourself through the wall.
“Heh. You’re known for those gentle nudges towards personal growth.” Jeremy laughed bitterly, scraping his fingers along his jaggedly bound arm. “That’s why you gave me these?”
They’ve only been fetters for you because that’s how you’ve labeled them. But, for once, you’re going in the right direction — to Tregenne’s. That might be just the place for you to learn that if you stop resisting your gifts, you might discover their true nature.
“So it really matters to you that she comes to us, instead of me going and getting her?”
You saw her. She was alone, wasn’t she? Where do you suppose that Serafin has gone?
Jeremy found that it was easy to breathe again. “Sometimes you don’t have to convince me to do what you want. The least you could do is shut up for a while.” Now that Azevin’s skyline was completely obliterated by the darkness left by the fallen sun, he could step forward with his head raised and his eyes wide open.
31
This wasn’t the Azevin that Asher remembered. He walked in the shadow of the winding, raised rails that once supported the long streak of silver carrying passengers through the city in orderly patterns. The sight of those trains gliding above him never failed to pull his chin skyward. There had been something comforting about their movement, as they snaked between buildings, dwarfed by the skyline, unaffected by whatever chaotic business played out below. But that all occurred in a place that didn’t exist anymore. He wouldn’t look up to see dismembered steel doors, a row of discolored seats, or a vestige of the Metro’s bold and simple logo, now stripped of its function. He could find his way to Tregenne’s without using corpses as landmarks. It was painful enough that his whole body remembered the way after all this time. Still, the sureness of his steps as they followed a once familiar route somehow soothed the tightness of the gathering dread that held his form rigid.
It wasn’t the Eclipse that ever hurt him. It took very little away from his life, and in return, it gave him purpose. It was something he could handle. The days of watching the trains go by above him had a nostalgic charm, but they were far from idyllic. There were moments of peace when he visited his grandfather in Azevin, but he always knew those trips were a simple matter of sharing the load of an unwanted burden. Even at a young age, he understood how it all worked. It was useless to wish for things to be different, so he was very careful to enjoy the pungent smell of the stained sidewalks, and the way he had to cautiously cross the streets, ignoring the red and green lights like every other pedestrian and vehicle. Asher had made sure he loved his daily dose of strong coffee and overly buttered toast from the corner café, and the too-sweet orange concoctions that sustained them during their Saturday morning walks through the mall. He knew that the warm, beige haze on the horizon that hung below the blue sky was unhealthy, but he truly believed that no two colors ever were so beautiful, resting side by side.
Everyone called his grandfather “
Duke,” so he did the same. The old man was his only living relative, besides his Aunt Tara who had taken him in after the accident. He wasn’t angry about any of it and never was. Not really. It was an event that occurred sometime before his solidifying personality gave him a grasp on memory. Without the recognition of exactly who it was that he would never see again, it wasn’t hard to be comforted by the simple knowledge that sometimes planes crash in this world. Even if they had lived, things still would have changed, eventually. He could never be sure when he’d wake up to rain, or an empty house, or on a bus headed to Azevin. Whichever way it went, he knew he’d get along. People were always talking about the end of the world, but Asher wasn’t worried about it. It wouldn’t be something he could plan for, so he’d take it as it came his way.
Tara tried the best she knew how. She never expected to have to take in her older sister’s child, and dealing with change was never her strong suit. It’s not that she didn’t care, but there were just too many obstacles barring her sight and bending her will. He couldn’t help her; no one wants to hear a child tell them how to manage the difficulties of their lives. Duke was different, though. He wasn’t the parenting kind and there may have always been the sharp scent of alcohol on his breath, but he would listen. He was just as set in his ways as anyone else, maybe more so, with his strictly followed daily rituals, but he didn’t seem to realize that Asher was just a child. Every night, Duke would sit with him in front of the television, beer in hand, only halfway watching the game shows, using them only as starting off points for rambling observations on life. Whenever Asher would reply with a carefully formed thought of his own, his grandfather would listen, his eyes half-closed, which always meant he was at full attention. Duke never responded with matter-of-fact corrections on a naïve viewpoint, but took the boy’s insights when they were offered and argued loudly when he needed the stimulation. It would always end with Asher falling asleep in the stiffly-padded wooden chair, and in those sleepy moments, bathed in the television’s blue light, he was safe in the knowledge that between some people, differences were of no consequence.
Dominion of the Star (Descendants of the Fallen Book 1) Page 22