In Eden's Shadow

by Amanda Churi

  “Oh,” Maeve resumed, waving me away, “and next time you insult my capabilities based on size, just remember: at least I don’t need height to ‘compensate.’”

  I ground my sharp teeth, a million death wishes shooting her way. A grin inked her lips as she strutted past me with a confident gait, stopping at Korbu’s growing feet that were currently no larger than a pinkie. “Straight ahead and toward the volcano, right?”

  Korbu sneered. His pelvis was still far smaller than it should have been, but at the end of his open spine, marrow continued to shove its way down into the new skeleton, forcing the outer layer to expand and make way. His legs were currently only a foot in length, so Korbu hoisted himself up by his arms, waddling forward on his palms. “Yes,” he finally answered. “The entrance is at the base.” He walked away from Maeve, joining up with his abandoned katana.

  “Korbu…” I hissed. The shi did not take note of my presence, shoving his weapon into his energized chest for safe keeping.

  “HA!” Maeve mocked, clutching her gut. “You literally lived under a rock?! No wonder you’re so irrational! Bahahahaha!”

  My frown came down with such strength that it almost took my head with it. My feet twisted in the direction of my secluded home, marching me forward without a word more. The only part of my body that took any sort of action was my arm as I pulled Coruscus out of the grime by its tail, purposely tripping Korbu along the way.

  The rest of the walk, one usually littered with damned and demon, was nothing but a dusty, deserted path in this now forbidden sector of Hell. Outside of Nortora, it was apparently free game; if you left those gates and got snatched up, it was no one’s fault but your own.

  Still, I thought as I curled my fingers around Coruscus’ limp tail. How can the Proxez survive down here? It should be impossible for humans.

  I thought back to Maeve, who was walking alongside Korbu behind me. Then again… I guess nothing is impossible anymore.

  “Is that it?”

  “Hm?” I pulled myself away from my intense muse, turning my head up at the sound of Maeve’s voice. From sheer awe, the previous tension between us dissipated, and the looming tower of obsidian took any present ill will into its empty chest. Veins of ice ran down the fractures in its face, making my stronghold glow an eerie blue instead of red. The smog circling about the top was white and clean, the peak stretching so high that even my eyes could not pick out where the volcano truly drew its final breath. Snow hugged it at the base, chilling its warm and festerous core; it was piled highest where the entrance to my home once stood.

  I advanced until I stood toe to toe with all that I had lived for. I tenderly lay my open hand on its frozen surface, closing my eyes and running my claws over the uneven wall to feel for the exact point of entry.

  A single nail skipped, my eyes immediately opening. I moved my hand not an inch more, keeping the chosen nail where it was and guiding the others to stand in line with it. Winter’s wisps traveled up my arm; the temperature was excruciatingly cold, but even so, I secured my grip. A strained breath filled my immortal lungs, and with an intense curl, my claws broke the ice that acted as a cork, shattering in a circle around my hidden doorway.

  I pulled it open without a word. It was a bit more difficult than initially expected, but the moment the ancient door found its partner rut, it glided away.

  Maeve came to stand beside me as I stared in; Korbu flanked the opposite side, switching from his hands to his now doable legs.

  My cave was dark, lifeless, empty. I didn’t know what to expect, but nothing… That wasn’t it.

  “It’s just as hollow as your head,” Maeve snickered.

  I was too aghast to come back with a witty retort “Why…?” I asked aloud, forcing myself to step inside. The air was intoxicating—old and unturned for centuries, no doubt. It dried up my tongue and choked my chest, each step hitting me harder than the last. The shelves were bare, and the ceiling had been stripped clean too, not even a hook remaining. The floor, usually bountiful with nails, shavings, and other byproducts of my work was clean, revealing a blank slab of rock that I could not remember ever seeing.

  The nails on my dragging feet ached, squealing as they scratched the stone. I took heavy, hurt breaths as I approached the once fiery lake, my knees struggling to hold me up. Not a single red photon came into view—not the lightest puff of hot, dry air. My home just continued on and on, and when I came to where I used to sit and draw, sketch and plan, I hardly even recognized it.

  It had been filled in. The endless lake was endless no more, overcome by time, dirt, stone… It essentially looked no different than my floor. The volcano was dead, just like everything else.

  I dropped Coruscus. I hit the ground on my knees. I never relied on others here… I was proud to spend most of my days alone, but I had never really been without friends. Those weapons were my companions. They were what I afterlived for in Hell, and with them now missing, gone with everything else…

  “DAMMIT!” I screamed. I slammed my hands down and broke stone. I was panting uncontrollably, my eyes glowing and burning as I repeatedly and relentlessly broke the floor beneath me. “DAMMIT, DAMMIT, DAMMIT! DAMN IT ALL!”

  “Eero,” Korbu tried.

  “I DON’T WANT TO HEAR IT! I DON’T WANT TO DAMMIT! WHY DID HE GET RID OF IT ALL?! Why did He attempt to throw away every remaining piece of my existence?!”

  Korbu grunted, choosing not to answer.

  Maeve wandered away, unfazed by my tantrum as she stroked the dusty shelves. “Why did we come here, anyway? Aren’t we supposed to be heading back to Earth?”

  Her question did little to distract me, but little was enough. My aching, burning fists briefly paused their assault, giving me just enough of a window to speak before they went back to beating away my anger. “I thought I would find what I needed to fix Coruscus… Perhaps gather some materials for the journey as well, but I was obviously mistaken.” Flustered, I eyed up Korbu. “For someone who is always patronizing me with fatherly advice, you were unusually quiet about this. Why didn’t you tell me that this trek was just a waste of time?”

  He shrugged. “I honestly forgot. Excuse me for not remembering a bonfire that burned thousands of years ago.”

  A weight plummeted through my gut and all the way to my toes. “Bonfire…? You… You destroyed it? All the weapons? All the tools?” My head sluggishly turned back to the lake, petrified. All of it…? So much irreplaceable work and time—and they just disposed of it like trash?

  The silence lingered around my fogged head, only ending when Korbu came crouching beside me. “Not all,” he grumbled reluctantly. “We spared Coruscus.”

  Hearing the sacred name of my prized weapon made me look up, especially as Korbu lightly traced its dark blade. “After Satan severed it and afterward condensed you, He strung it up as a trophy in the arena for all to see—a reminder to show who was boss. It stayed there for a long time, but then one day…” He paused, glancing back at Maeve. “The blade that had been dark for thousands of years suddenly ignited. We couldn’t stop it; within seconds, it was shooting back to Earth, never seen again for years… Not until Time was reborn.”

  I picked at my ear to make sure I heard correctly. “Reborn? You mean someone overpowered and managed to change Time himself? What, did they have a death wish?”

  Korbu rose. “Apparently, and she got it. Azuré never stopped making a ruckus till she was done in for good.”

  Her name physically lifted my body and barreled my eyes into Korbu. So, it was true. Azuré had done something utterly unspeakable and had been made into an Essence as well. But something was still missing… A gap in my memories that was vital to understanding the current situation I was in. “You say she changed the timeline. Why?”

  A menacing slit of the bottomless, black pit that was Korbu’s soul broke through his eye. “Just following that lovely last speech you gave.”

  “She was a loon if ever there was one,” Maeve added off to
the side. “She wanted to turn the world on its head and destroy Earth by releasing Hell onto it.” She snorted. “Funny thing is, dead or alive, she still got her wish.”

  The abyss within Korbu’s sight closed as his head circled back to Maeve. “So, that’s how they’re telling it these days? At first, yes, that was her intention—it was why Satan even assisted her human, as I’m sure you remember; she wouldn’t have resisted those fledglings as long as she did without Him. But the longer she was fully awake in that body, the more she remembered… And by the time Satan realized He was being double-crossed, you had already forced Him to retreat to Hell with that dastardly, holy wound.” His eyes met mine. “She wasn’t going to release Hell, she was going to destroy it, and you made her.”

  My endless library of witty comebacks and sarcastic quips could not be accessed as I thought through what he said. No, that couldn’t be right. I knew Azuré, and I knew her well since I had so few so-called “friends” in the first place. And her being the head twister… Me screaming for rebellion as I was hung wouldn’t have done a thing. Next to Satan, she was the queen of manipulation, and simply hearing my desperate, dying words would not have led her astray. That was what bothered me. I had no idea if her intentions really were to uproot Hell—no one could answer that but her eternally dispersed self—but whatever her motivation, she did indeed follow in my footsteps in some way. I just didn’t know the real whys or hows.

  I looked back to the filled-in lake, remembering that last day we shared with one another as she bitched and moaned about lacking a weapon. Oh, she was certainly annoying, but I longed to hear her badmouth me just one more time. I couldn’t even begin to imagine her face when she saw every creation of mine going up in cinders. Knowing her like I did, a scene that horrific wouldn’t have panned out peacefully on her part.

  …Unless…

  On a creaky hinge, my head steered to the wall as the factory that ran my brain kicked back into functioning order. The puppeteer in control of my spinning thoughts instructed me toward the ice-slated walls. Amongst the tightly packed shelves that ran along both walls of my abode, there was a single area where they briefly parted before continuing—and by briefly, I mean perhaps a space the width of a claw.

  Apart from me, she was the only one who knew about it.

  I did not settle for subtle, tender acts. Still pumped with rage, I tore forward with my fists, knocking the wall so hard that the frozen hinges gave way, throwing the slab of rock onto the floor with an earth-shattering thud.

  The musty, rank air gave me hope as I leaped through the hole into the black abyss. The smell of rust was fresh and alive, more contaminated and present than ever. It fueled my scrambled emotions with lust, and in the low light, I leaped stomach-first, belly-flopping into the sacredness of my treasure.

  I laughed hysterically, throwing up nails and glass in victory. The armor that I landed on top of, the weapons, the wires, the pieces of cloth and string, it enticed me so much that I began to drool, rolling over like an animal and caressing every item within reach. The brushes, the paint, the items that had no solid names or known purposes… Much was missing, but much was salvaged—hurriedly stashed away by the only person I could truly call a friend, standing beside me through Heaven, Hell, and even Earth apparently.

  This… This was my place, my safe zone. It always would be, and soon, it would expand its reaches so that I could feel this glorious completeness standing above all with Coruscus in one hand and pitchfork in the other.

  Maeve and Korbu loomed at the doorway with wide eyes, watching me detach from this dimension and fall into my rank fantasies.

  “Wow… He’s insane,” Maeve commented. She was unable to look away as I began making dust angels among the sea of prizes.

  “He was always crazy,” Korbu acknowledged, back to his full, natural form. “And he was always a hoarder among hoarders; I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised he had something like this.”

  I belly-laughed loud and hard. Oh, how right he was! “See, I told you it would all be useful someday!” My neck went limp as I crashed back in pleasure, nuzzling the flat face of a knife. “How I missed this! How I…!” I gasped, a bright flash of silver catching my attention. I shifted to feline mode, springing off my rump and leaping over the mounds of items to catch the glimmer before it escaped.

  I succeeded, running my callused hands over the faded surface in bewilderment. The plates did not fit together smoothly, nor was it the prettiest thing in sight, but…

  I looked at Maeve, studying her nude body. I couldn’t kill her yet, and if she had to be tagged along for the time being, it was best to make sure I had a good meat shield to better my own odds. “Hey, Maeve!”

  She struggled to react as I jumped up and snatched the suit out from under me, throwing it her way without considering her mortal skin. She shrieked, her and Korbu diving away as the mismatched armor crashed through their recently occupied pocket of air.

  “Would you warn me next time?!” she screeched, clutching the doorway and peeking out with an eye. “That could have killed me!”

  “Well, that’s technically still my intent.”

  She rolled her eyes, making sure that I wasn’t about to pelt her with anything else before she stiffly approached the crumpled projectile.

  I left her to think what she wanted while I continued to skirmish through my mountain of trinkets. I whisked up bolts, nails, bottles of liquids—anything that I surmised could have use on the journey up.

  My arms were full of things that heathens called trash; I could hardly keep them all in my grasp without having a stray item tumble down from the top, causing me to set down my findings and restack them before advancing up and out to the main cavern. I was just thankful that Korbu’s chest acted as an infinite storage system; otherwise, I had no way of lugging it all to the surface.

  And if he didn’t want to act as my caddy… Well, again, I would make it clear he didn’t have a choice.

  A semi-broken vial managed to be the escapee this time. I grumbled, mumbling curses of all colors as I went to retrieve the rebellious item, and when I did, my long fingers snagged a tattered, bloodstained cloth with it.

  It was not needed, but I did not throw it back down, instead lowering my mound and closely looking over the composition of the material. Lifetimes felt as though they passed the longer I stared, curiously sticking a finger through the unraveling threads and purposely making other slits. The world was pushed aside as the cloth captivated me; even Korbu and Maeve’s voices were scrambled, nothing else mattering at that time.

  I searched my belongings with my eyes until I found a shattered mirror propped up against the wall. Clutching the brown, death-splattered cloth, I approached it, crushing unknown treasures under my massive feet as I ventured to the tightest corner of my storage room.

  Tall and menacing, I looked at my filthy, distorted reflection. I was happy, of course, but it was hidden to even me—an emotion that I had to search for while flexing my muscles and clicking my teeth. I had to try to have some bravado, but it was not showing itself—certainly not as I rested my gruff hand over the revived, crusted Mark slightly above my heart.

  My strength felt even less as I observed an odd tattoo, a foreign bracelet, and a holy necklace. I did not remember them, yet it felt like they somehow belonged.

  I held the cloth up to my waist, covering the gonads and additive. It was weird to not see it there, especially looking down. It was what I had been created with, and keeping it tucked away felt disgraceful. But humans, that alien species, they did, and by no means was I the same demon that I was before my banishment.

  My ear lifted, slightly focusing on Maeve’s distant voice. She caused this shift within me. She made me an Essence. She changed me.

  I looked at myself one last time before I turned to go, piling my original stack in my gruff arms with lips sewn shut, morals blurred, and cloth tied at the waist.

  Seven

  Runaway Ghoul

 
While most chased the fugitives, some prowled their ravaged hideout, set on uncovering every secret behind the rebellion.

  Proxez swarmed the base for days. Security remained tight: Aphrite was on a crippling lockdown as any stray escapees were searched for; the other districts had also been placed under a much harsher curfew. Haxors infected the streets like bacteria, visiting each and every house and running a head count of everyone found. Their tattoos were forcibly read, and a new chip was embedded into the skin, serving as a tag to show which civilians had been cleared.

  The Encryptors that managed to flee above ground… It wasn’t hard to find them, no matter how slick they tried to be. Once they were snagged—well, there was no explanation as to why their identification would be slashed and tracking device removed. If they did not submit to capture, they were brutally killed, and that became the fate of most all. The few that had willingly given themselves up in spite of their oath had only fragmented pieces of valuable information; fleeing via the tunnels connecting to the surface, they were not the most trained members—certainly not the most loyal—and while their words gave the Proxez a bit more leverage, it was nothing significant.

  And in the end, they were killed too; after all, the world has no places for Glitches.

  “…One girl mentioned patterns,” a Haxor recalled. His face was hidden by his visor, and his gun was kept tight in hand, prepared to be used at a moment’s notice. He was taking a break and leaning against the metal stage in the center of the Encryption base, watching his comrades peel flattened bodies off the tiles and scrape blood off the walls. Another Haxor joined him, sitting on the ground with his head dipped.

  “Patterns?” the seated replied. His voice did not hold the same rough tone as the other; it was far younger and, ironically, innocent in its own peculiar way. “Of what sort?”