by Earl, Collin
Brian plopped down next to the gathered teenagers. He looked terrible, with massive black bags under his eyes and red patches at his temples where he obviously had been rubbing his hands.
The company of children instantly bombarded him with questions.
“How’s Monson?” both Casey and Artorius demanded.
“What did your healers do to Marie?” asked Grayson.
“Who are those men and why are they here?” called out Indigo.
Brian held up a hand. “Peace, children. All will be revealed—”
Casey interrupted. “Enough stalling, Brian. We’re tired of hearing that. We need answers and we need them now.”
“It’s been almost two weeks since the Battle of Coren University,” said Artorius, glancing around at the slightly surprised faces. “What? It was a battle, and it was here in Coren. If any of you have a better name, I’d be happy to hear it.”
No one said anything.
Artorius continued, apparently satisfied. “It’s been two weeks since Baroty and his men attacked everyone here. Yet we’re no closer to understanding why a group of armed men invaded our school, summoned a legendary phenomenon that isn’t supposed to exist, and tried to kill us in the process. Cyann and Molly are dead. Monson is in a coma. I could really use someone to punch and if you aren’t going to tell us anything, it might as well be you. It’s time to give us some answers.”
“Yes, I do think it’s about time we shared.” Mr. Gatt appeared without anyone having heard him approach.
He sat next to Brian, took a deep breath, and spoke slowly. “You need to understand that we can’t give you all the answers—”
He put up a hand to stifle the objections. “Before you start, there is much we cannot tell you because there is much we do not know. Also, some of our secrets are for the members of our Order only. We will fill in the blanks as best we can. But you must not ask beyond that. At least not for now.”
Casey scowled. “Intentional baiting. I hate it when stories do that.”
Brian spoke, ignoring Casey. “I told you all once, not very long ago—though it feels like ages ago–that if you are to truly understand this story, you need to suspend any concept you have of reality, history, ideology or manifest conceptualization of your identity. If you are to proceed to the next step, if you are to fulfill your part your role in this story, you need to believe in your purpose. Otherwise none of you, least of all Monson, will survive.”
Brian sighed heavily. “Assuming, of course, that he is not already dead.”
“That sounds like the teaser to a bad fantasy novel,” commented Taris, absentmindedly tossing her hair.
Everyone looked at her.
“What?” She held out her hands defensively. “I read too, you know.”
“You are not completely off the mark, Ms. Green,” said Brian.
Silence greeted this statement.
Brian smiled and motioned to Mr. Gatt, who proceeded to script a spell. Yellow runes materialized and then vanished in front of him as he muttered under his breath. Pulses, like a shock wave of sound, fanned out from his fingertips. He briefly closed his eyes and then looked back at Brian.
“It is done.”
Brian nodded at this.
“What’s done?” asked Indigo, raising the eyebrow in Monson’s signature gesture.
“To avoid any eavesdropping outside our little conversation,” replied Brian simply. “The Magi’s volumes of specialty spells can be incredibly useful if one is willing to take the time to learn them.”
Another silence greeted this statement, this one enduring for an uncomfortably long time.
“Well, if you aren’t going to start, I will,” announced Casey. “First question: Who in the hell are you two?”
Markin Gatt considered this. “Fair enough. A proper introduction is long overdue. I, my dear children, am Markinacaious Artisay of the House of Artisay.” He nodded his head in a slight bow before placing a hand on Brian’s shoulder. “And this is my brother Briantimius.”
It was Casey who cocked the eyebrow this time. Artorius’ mouth dropped open. Taris scratched her head, clearly puzzled, while Grayson, Kylie and Indigo looked like a bunch of deer in headlights.
“This may be easier if we go back to the beginning,” Brian suggested to Mr. Gatt.
“Yes, that may be prudent.”
The two brothers looked at each other until Casey interrupted the impromptu staring contest. “So where does it start?”
Mr. Gatt smiled. “Where does a very good story start? With a hopeless war, an unexpected hero, and a prophecy that will either save or destroy the world.”
Suddenly Mr. Gatt stood up, followed closely by Brian. “Follow me, children. I have something to show you.”
***
In the beginning there were Di-ma, spirits of creation that moved through existence with the purpose of organizing matter and substance. An unspoken force, a power, drove them both gentle but all encompassing, which asked for a never-ending cycle of life and testing. This was the assignment given to the Di-ma by the force. The universe has infinite worlds and planets that have come to pass because of the Di-ma.
The Di-ma fulfilled their purpose, their space in the universe’s creation, but grew bored with the slow and tiresome process, and thought to change their circumstances by combining their efforts, so that they each might rest from their labors for a while. In their haste and their jubilation they created the Cluster, a group of four worlds that would entitle an almost infinite number of souls to their chance at life.
The Di-ma thought that such worlds should not be home to a single collective alone. So they thought to populate it–with not one race, but seven. The Di-ma formed these races in their own likeness and image, and commanded them to multiply in their own sphere, each after its kind.
The Cluster, like the worlds before, would be a place of reckoning and testing. The worlds would hold almost limitless resources and opportunity so that the races would be able to create life in their own image, according to their own consciousness.
And so the Di-ma’s gave life to the Founders, and the Founders lived in the gardens of the Di-ma. They lived in peace, awaiting the for the moment of fulfillment, for the opportunity to pursue their purpose, waiting for the Evil to come.
But then it all went wrong.
A mistake was made.
Creation…was not completed…Creation was to unravel….
The peace of the times was short-lived, as the worlds were plunged into Darkness—Darkness that slipped through Creation’s web, and which came to subjugate and destroy. No one knew where the Darkness came from or how to combat it, and because of the Darkness the races fell into a state of perpetual war. Magic of the greatest power, monsters of matchless strength, armies that rained down blood and horror upon the earths–with the Darkness at the head of it all, wielding a piece of its own Blackness.
The races banded together, but fear, pride and selfishness crippled them and threatened to destroy them. The Darkness overwhelmed them.
In their most sorrowful hour, as the Darkness appeared on the verge of consuming all, a Light pierced the Darkness with its own Holy White and drove back the Darkness…drove back the Darkness whence it came.
The Light, the Silver Light, fell from the Darkness, leaving the worlds with two things: a place of destiny and a promise to return…
To fix the hole that the Darkness had rendered.
***
It was a while before anyone spoke. The group of teenagers was gathered around Brian and Mr. Gatt, who stood behind Monson’s leather couch in his apartment. The apartment looked unscathed, which was quite a feat, as it had consisted mainly of a giant hole, splintered furniture, and fried electronic equipment just two weeks ago. Casey tried not to think of the group of soldiers that attacked them and the resulting devastation. He also tried not to think of what he and the others did to those soldiers.
Leave it to Coren to prioritize the renovation of the Ho
rum Vir apartment above anything else. But the group didn’t mention it. They were too entranced by Brian and Mr. Gatt’s story. Artorius finally raised his hand, and Casey rolled his eyes.
“Dude, we aren’t in class. Don’t raise your hand. You look like an idiot.”
“I know you are but what am I?”
“Really? That’s where you’re going?”
“Shut up Casey—”
“Both of you be quiet,” said Taris sharply, returning her attention to Mr. Gatt. “I don’t understand what all of this has to do with Monson—or any of us, for that matter.”
“Everything,” replied Mr. Gatt matter-of-factly. “The information you just received is for background purposes. It’s difficult to explain the grand design of the individual players, as we are not sure what the Darkness represents. The infighting between the Magi, Emporiume and Brotherhood has caused any records of the First War to be lost. We have our theories, but there is much debate among the Emporiume and even the Magi. What we do know is—”
“What about the Light?” interrupted Indigo, also thrusting a hand into the air. She smirked at Casey, though it was noticeably forced. No one said anything, so she repeated herself. “What about the Light? You said you were unsure what the Darkness was—is—whatever, but does that mean you know what they are referring to when they talk about the Light?”
Mr. Gatt smiled. “Brilliant question, Indigo. Yes, we know what is meant by the Light. Remember I mentioned a Hero in all this? That’s what I was referring to; you can call her the Light, the Hero—it does not matter. Her name is Sariah of the Shining and she is why you are all sitting here.”
There was an audible pause, as contradictory as that sounded. Casey felt a chill run up his spine, because they all knew what was coming.
“And the prophecy?” asked Kylie, clearly voicing everyone else’s next question. “What is that?”
Mr. Gatt gazed at each of their faces in turn. “At the conclusion of the First War, the Darkness was defeated and the process of rebuilding began. Sariah of the Shining, who was heralded as the Hero of Seven, an official title given to her for single-handedly defeating the Darkness, fell into obscurity, retreating to her home. Months passed without anyone seeing her, and then suddenly, without warning, a handmaiden of Sariah’s named Lilith appeared before the League of Races. She announced that Sariah had died. There was much mourning and grieving; it lasted weeks. Finally, the Seven Generals of the League called upon Lilith to tell the people of Sariah’s final times. She did just that, and in doing so, helped bring to pass an event that has shaped the destiny of the Seven Races for thousands of years.”
Silence hung over the room, the anticipation thick enough to cut.
“What happened?” asked several voices at once.
Mr. Gatt resumed his story, his voice low. “She appeared to the people as Sariah of the Shining; she spoke in Sariah’s voice, commanded them like Sariah, she even looked like her. Lilith, acting as the medium, channeled Sariah’s spirit and delivered the prophecy of the Being of Seven Bloods.”
Mr. Gatt finished speaking, a note of finality in his voice. Casey appeared to have had enough.
“What, that’s it?”
Mr. Gatt shot Casey a puzzled expression. “What do you mean, Cassius?”
“What do I mean? You haven’t actually told us anything!”
Mr. Gatt continued to look confused.
Casey rolled his eyes. “Not that the history lesson wasn’t fascinating or anything, but what does any of this have to do with us? With Monson? With all the craziness that has happened here at Coren?”
“Everything, of course. Have you not been listening?”
Casey pointed to himself. “No, I’ve been daydreaming about soup! Of course I’ve been listening, but I still don’t really know anything. Let’s try this, how about a simple question and answer? For example, what is the Being of Seven Bloods and why do you think that it’s Monson?”
“Yes, you would not know how to identify abnormalities,” Brian said. “I apologize—the current happenings are unprecedented and I forget that many of you are unschooled.”
He looked around at the group before pushing on. “Honestly, we don’t know for sure that Monson is who we seek, but the signs are there. The first and foremost is Monson’s obvious power–no one that young should have that sort of Kei release. It means that he has a fully developed pathway. Second is his Kei signature, which—later.”
Brian looked directly at Casey who was about to interrupt. “If you ask a question about every single thing you don’t understand then we will never get through this. The Pathway to Power and Kei signature, we’ll get to them soon enough. For now, think of the Kei signature as an identification method of the Seven Races, and the Pathway…well, that one will simply have to wait.
“Now, going back to the Being of Seven Bloods, I guess more of an explanation is in order. First of all, the Being of Seven Bloods is the Hero, not in the sense that you’ve all come to understand, but the way the League of Races understood it. A being with an unprecedented fate, someone who is supposed to change life itself. That’s what Sariah did–she gave the races a chance to continue to exist, an opportunity to feel the measure of their existence. She overcame the Darkness with twin pillars of pure white.”
Artorius interrupted this time. “You mean pure light?”
Brian smiled. “No, I do not. Sariah gave the races another chance. She was a Hero. But it’s not over yet…Sariah left something unfinished, something of such importance that only another Hero can handle it.”
“What didn’t she finish?” Taris asked quietly.
Brian and Mr. Gatt sighed, their resemblance becoming plain in that instant. Mr. Gatt picked up the narration. “Alas, that is what the Magi have been trying to figure out for thousands of years. One thing we have come to know with certainty: that the one to inherit Sariah’s mantle is the Being of Seven Bloods. But the dogma around Sariah has made it almost impossible to find real facts about her. The Cult of the Shining won’t allow anyone near her Palace for fear of her spirit’s vengeance. Even more importantly, many have allowed a number of the Oracle’s Recitations to vanish into obscurity.”
This statement was met with blank stares.
Mr. Gatt continued. “The Oracle’s Recitation …it’s been so long…Lilith’s transformation was only the first. Every firstborn female of the Eltan Family since Lilith has been an Oracle, and every so often Sariah’s spirit will channel through the Oracle, allowing us glimpses of what needs to be done. The Being of Seven Bloods was mentioned in the original Resuscitation and as Lilith stated, will fulfill a mighty and specific purpose for all the races. Furthermore, according to the Oracles who came after Lilith, The Being of Seven Bloods won’t do it alone.”
“The Blood Fellowship,” interjected Brian so quietly it was difficult to hear him.
Artorius scratched his face. “That doesn’t sound very pleasant.”
Mr. Gatt gave him a half-smile. “That’s what the Being of Seven Blood’s ‘group’ has been dubbed by historians. A fellowship made up of the blood of every race that will come to the Being’s aid. I had my doubts, but now there is no doubt. Most of you will accompany Monson wherever his destiny takes him.”
“I don’t mean to sound stupid,” said Taris, “but what do you mean most of us will accompany him?”
“Meaning that not all of you are part of the Fellowship; you cannot be. I don’t know who the odd men out are, but certainly a number of you are.”
The group glanced at each other.
“My brother is speaking with more conviction then he probably should.” Brian glared slightly at Mr. Gatt. “The truth is, we have no way of knowing who is part of the fellowship. We were positive that Cyann had to be, especially since—”
He stopped himself. “It doesn’t matter. She is gone now. So she wasn’t a part of it after all. Suffice it to say that the membership of the Blood Fellowship is preordained–and the details as to
the identifying markers are one of the upmost secrets of the Magi Order. I am sorry; I cannot say more than that.”
Casey started to protest but Kylie interrupted him.
“I’ve got a question,” said Kylie, addressing Brian and Mr. Gatt. “Not to change gears here, but I really want to know: Who was the ghost lady with the silver hair back on the Battlefield–is she a friend of yours? How did she know how to stop Monson?”
Mr. Gatt and Brian exchanged barely noticeable glances before Mr. Gatt responded. “She is not with us, that I can assure you. We have our suspicions, but it seems all but impossible.”
Casey pulled a phone out of his pocket and turned it off.
“Case,” said Artorius, “what are you doing?”
“It’s just getting good. This is the part in the movie where the mentor character gets interrupted. I turned off my phone so as to not tempt fate.”
Artorius gave an appreciative chuckle. “You’re funny, dude. That stuff only happens—”
The lot of them jumped unexpectedly as the door to Monson’s apartment flew open. “Mr. Gatt—Brian—are you in here?”
Casey scowled. “Damn you, Fate.”
It was Marie.
Everyone let out a sigh of relief, most getting up to hug her. She was surrounded in seconds.
“No—everyone—yes, it’s great to see you, too—I am glad—wait—LISTEN!”
The group fell silent. Brian rested a concerned hand on Marie’s shoulder. “My dear, are you—”
“It’s Monson.”
The room instantly exploded with noise as voices jumbled together.
“Is he OK?”
“What did he say?”
“Did he remember you?”
Marie yelled, “QUIET!”
They all shut up immediately. Marie remained silent, looking every one of them in the face. She slowly opened her mouth to speak.
“Monson’s bed is empty.”
Everyone turned back to the door, where Grayson had appeared. “Guys, Monson is gone.”
***