In Eden's Shadow

by Amanda Churi

  Branches…? That… Doesn’t make sense… She could already feel her mind growing fuzzy, unable to properly process such deep, festering pain. She wasn’t seeing right; her brain wasn’t putting things together correctly, but even in a world with revived branches, Seek picked her out in the distance—the soldier with frightened purple eyes and blackened nails that reached out to Seek, trying to catch her scent in time. They stared at one another, each as terrified as the other when Merritt caught the scent in her fist, breaking into a sprint to reach her friend while silently screaming Seek’s name.

  She hadn’t gone more than two steps before she was stopped dead in her tracks. A bomb of blood exploded out of Merritt’s stomach, and in a gory, sticky heap, her intestines dropped at her feet.

  Seek tried to scream, but she didn’t know if it was working; she couldn’t hear anything now—only watch helplessly as the gloves that kept his damned hands free of blood reached through Merritt’s stomach and flew apart like a glorious showman, vertically tearing her body into two messy halves.

  The sound of each side smacking the ground thundered in Seek’s deaf ears. She was panting so hard and unsteadily that each breath nearly lifted Seek up from the ground as Merritt’s head fell toward it, bouncing when it finally touched down. The sorceress’ mouth was ajar, blood flying off her tongue and teeth as her severed head dragged her exposed spine with it.

  Seek furiously grabbed at the frostbitten soil as Typo silently jeered her way, casually flicking a piece of Merritt’s intestine down onto her deadlocked face. Mocking Seek with words she could not hear, he outstretched his hand, gathering a lethal sphere of nightmares.

  You need to trust us! a voice within her echoed, giving rise to those precious others that still remained.

  TRUST IN HIM!

  You can still win this if you accept us!

  HAVE FAITH! TRUST! YOU HAVE TO TRUST!

  “…Trust…” Seek wheezed, hardly decoding what was her tiny voice. A cold, unseen river began to lap at her wounds before surging over her entirety, numbing the burning emotions and festering pain present in both body and soul. “Trust…” she repeated. “Trust…”

  She left her weapon in the bloody snow, clutching her spewing throat as she rose to legs that were stable for the first time that battle. A light inside where darkness had ruled… A feeling of peace and reassurance… It overcame and dominated her broken, scarred body, but it did not call forth tears; the strongest offense was that pained smile across her lips as she came to terms with what exactly she was to do. “Trust… Trust… Trust…”

  Her hands flung away from her throat and flew down, her blood burning white when it hit the earth. Crystals of pure, hallowed light erupted from her skin and shot out her shoulder blades; clicks and clunks filled the ambiguous air, the sounds of snapping bones and wrung timbers creating such a ruckus that it seemed as though an entire forest was bowing to Seek’s newfound power. Unfurling their restrained forms, the thickest of briar patches with the sharpest of thorns crawled out from her back, born wild and free, growing farther and farther without limit. By the time they settled, her naturally white barbwires had stretched across the entire street, scratching the sides of the houses in a horrendous discord of chalk on nails.

  Typo lurched back, the entire battle halting as all attention turned to take in the fallen child. Not a peep came from any of them; the only sounds were the abrasions her wings carved directly into the houses with each heaving, heated breath, along with her small hiccups as she cried streams of stardust.

  And she smiled as she cried, feeling the powers race and thoughts of justice curl her fingers. This world without Him… It was so cruel and dark. Too many were taken by false gods—too many she had personally known. No, she wouldn’t do it… She wouldn’t lose anyone else… No more… Not one more!

  “I ACCEPT YOU!” she wailed, forever changed the moment she said it. Crying—screaming at the top of her lungs, her wings smacked the ground, and she shot forward toward destiny.

  Twenty-six

  The Great Deception

  I knew she was holy—I just didn’t know how much until she flew at Typo in a full-blown rage, her enormous wings slicing clean through the toppled houses and sending them flying straight at us.

  I stood atop the roof, smirking and watching the line of Returned positioned before me stretch their limbs and swing with brute force, shattering pounding boulders into drizzling gravel. There wasn’t one tree, nor two; the entire forest had uprooted, now standing tall and proud in a formidable arc on the houses of the dead, wailing, fighting, and most of all, waiting for the command to run loose.

  I’ll admit, I was soured to ever believe there was such a thing in this world as luck, but being in the direct path of your reinforcement wave and catching a ride back to the front lines… Well, it definitely upped my faith in luck’s existence.

  “Ready!”

  The command pierced the air, managing to tumble over the cries of death and despair that were all.

  “Aim!”

  The lowest, sturdiest of their wooded limbs clicked as would gears of a machine, positions slowly falling and adjusting before settling in place with a heavy clunk.

  “FIRE!”

  The tree before me kicked back—all did as they launched their boughs from their cannons disguised as trunks. Splinters of rotten wood and typhoons of thick dust propelled each projectile forward; nearly every shot harpooned its target, catching most every demon giving chase to Seek’s bolting presence.

  None could match her bloodlustful sprint. She was oblivious to the wooden torpedoes whizzing past her with piercing wails, small hands that I would have never perceived to be used for anything but prayer clawing for the fragment of life that remained within Typo.

  He surely wasn’t sticking around, not with her like that; he dispersed with the violent turn of the tides, shifting into a cloud of smog and slingshotting into the distance. His cowardice only enraged Seek further. Her thorny wings snapped out and down and plowed craters into the earth. She was ready, ready to taste blood as her feet finally relinquished control and let her wings carry her above the mass of warring bodies.

  “Oh my gosh…”

  The despairing tone twisted my neck just enough to see Mabel crawling up onto the roof behind me, intaking the battle with wide, tear-jerked eyes. “We… We came too late… Didn’t we?”

  I huffed irritably. “What made you guess? The moving graveyard or the demented saint?”

  “I beg to differ! Seems we came just in time for the afterparty!”

  The mightiest Returned, a monstrous-looking oak tattooed with claw marks and hoisting broken branches, carried the boisterous soldier forward until it stopped beside us. Flye held on tightly to the center-most branch, scouring the battlefield within the safety of her crow’s nest. For the first time, her demonic sword showed its true form as she held it high and mighty toward the fortress. The blade was ferocious and flaring as a disturbed, contorted soul. It perfectly mirrored Typo’s evil, a potent toxin rippling and wheezing like a haunted kettle as it tried to tear its trapped tail free from the silver hilt.

  Flye was a heaven of a fighter, I would give her that, but listening to her ear-raking, hyperactive voice the entire way here was a battle in and of itself. Oh, what I would have given for her to be the silent, contemplating type of leader…

  My face must have said all, making Flye scoff loudly and eye me up. “Yeah, yeah, I may be annoying, but you gotta give me credit for building such a magnificent, awe-inspiring fleet. If it weren’t for my godliness, I wouldn’t have been able to round up the Players I did, and then we’d really be up shit creek.”

  I scowled, looking back at all Flye had scooped up. Replenishment was an understatement; on the ground, corralled behind the Returned and houses, there had to be over a thousand ratty, untrained rebels. They had no real battle gear; their armor was their tattered peasant clothing, their weapons an assortment of spoons, forks, rocks, planks—anything t
hey could scavenge while in tow of Flye’s army.

  And toward the front, there was a young man whose gaze burrowed into my soul; he held a Bot’s severed arm, giving me a stern, determined nod.

  I wanted to tell Flye to stuff it. Without experience, a thousand of them hardly matched up to a handful of Encryptors. At least they would serve as sufficient barriers while the worthier pushed through.

  “They’re all going to die,” Mabel stated darkly. “You both know it.”

  “Well, duh,” Flye snorted. “But it saves our asses, doesn’t it?”

  “Is yours an ass worth saving?” Mabel snarled back.

  Flye popped her hip out to the side. “You tell me.”

  Mabel groaned and rolled her eyes, glaring at me from the side. What was she looking at me for? Flye was right; hers was definitely an ass to die for.

  “Onward!”

  The sudden pipe from Embry surprised me, even more so when the robot bound over onto our roof with a mighty leap, thrusting her bow forth. “Seek requires aid!”

  “Embry,” Flye began firmly. “You stay back and help lead us with your sharp eyes and violin, capiche?”

  For a creation prone to submission, that order did not sit well. It twisted the pixels and squeezed Embry’s digital pupils until her eyes were orbs of bloody red. “Permission denied! Grave danger rests upon Seek! Assistance in keeping her alive is utmost priority!”

  “Denied. Seek can take care of herself.”

  Embry took a defiant step forward. “Flye!”

  “DENIED.”

  The force of the command racked Embry’s frame, locking her knees in place and dropping her eyes. Her bow submissively fell back to the strings of her violin.

  Once Flye was assured that Embry’s protests were over, she looked back at the battlefield with shrinking eyes. “Sybil!”

  “YES!” The lerial scampered down from the branches of Flye’s Returned, landing with a plop on her shoulder.

  “Are Vasili and the others ready?”

  Sybil snorted, smashing her fist over her armored heart. “You betcha!”

  Flye’s smile transformed into one of thirst. She grabbed her scarf and shoved it up over her mouth as she chuckled beneath her breath. “Awesome sauce.”

  A scream ten times Flye’s size suddenly ravished her cords, and she stabbed through Heaven, the energy in her blade expanding, wailing for justice. “GO! BRING DOWN THOSE WALLS AT ANY COST!”

  Her sword came down. The Returned reared back and bellowed a hollow groan, detaching their roots from the houses with recoiling snaps and slapping them into the bare earth ahead. The soil shattered in a domino effect as they pulled themselves forward, swinging their trunks and branches in a defiant ruckus with Rebel’s steed leading the way. The Players plowed after them, thinking with their feet and living with their voice, able, for the first time, to speak volumes and let their bodies be carried by their own will.

  With a haughty grunt, Sybil sprung off Flye’s shoulder, locking down on the palace. “Alrighty, guys! You heard her! Time to feast!”

  A cloud of black matter alight via purple stars sprung into existence from the flailing branches. My ears struggled to function just listening to the hard slaps of thousands of sticky wings crash down and fly up in a discordant swarm. They cackled and chirped as satanic birds on the hunt, their scratchy, irate laughter deafening as the flock soared over my head and into the fray.

  “Good luck,” Embry encouraged dryly. She trudged up to the roof’s peak, glancing back with eyes that were still blaring red. “And please, have caution.”

  Mabel dipped her torso. “Of course. Same goes for you.”

  A petite smile remolded Embry’s chiseled face. “Futile wish, but I give you my thanks—for all.”

  Her words staggered Mabel, crumpling her face. “Wait, what…?”

  Embry continued to smile; the plates of her chest swung open with a pressurized release. Bow and violin in one hand, she reached in with the other, retracting the black cube Justus gave her. “Unlocked, it is. Please, there is no way to win if that crystal does not fall.” She threw it at Mabel, who hardly caught it.

  The robot turned away, propping up her violin and bringing her bow to the strings. “Follow it. No matter what.”

  Mabel stared at the box in disbelief. “B-but, Embry—!”

  “Come on.” I snatched Mabel at the wrist and romped toward the drop, half-dragging her. We would have been there forever if it was up to her, and I had a head sitting on a pedestal just waiting to be toppled.

  “But Eero! Did you not hear what—?”

  “Course I did. She knows what’s coming; no use in fighting it. Besides…” I cast Mabel a stern side-glance. “She’s not alive—you are, so don’t just throw your life away.”

  A flame flickered within the deep recesses of her pupils, egging on a confident smile. She gave my hand a rough squeeze and flattened the box, tucking it away in her armor as we approached the nearing drop, gradually picking up speed.

  It was time—my time. Minutes, hours, maybe days remained, but it was all concluding, and I could feel each tick of Time hitting my chest harder and faster as our strides widened and strength built. My clutch tightened. The thatch below blurred as the edge that held our lives in a delicate, suspended balance rushed forward, ready to violently shift.

  But to which side was the real question.

  “Let’s end this!” Mabel screamed. A rush of embers flashed down her roots as she set her focus straight ahead—and we sprung. Together. Down to either our lifting thrones or sinking graves without letting go of each other.

  We met the ground with solid feet and were immediately off toward the palace that held my scapegoat within. I hated to admit it, but even being a frenemy, who I still contemplated killing this very moment, Mabel strengthened me, and Coruscus’ energetic, zapping aura made that clear… Never in Hell, never on any of my many excursions to Earth, did I ever feel so found as I did then.

  Guess that just goes to show I was officially a lost cause.

  The wall of raging Returned crashed into battle as a tumbling, all-consuming wave. Their slitherous roots shot forward and snatched the Proxez right at their heels, bashing them against the ground until their bodies were empty of all contents. The backline of Returned served as the artillery, shooting their branches and piercing any enemy in sight, but never did they stop advancing, pushing to the towering wall that originally forced them back. Meanwhile, Sybil led the lerial charge; they took to fully covering the battlefield like a tarp before diving, crashing into faces and latching onto exposed flesh. And the Players? They were horses on the charge, high off their first and last taste of freedom as they were all-too-easily taken down, but they fought relentlessly and did whatever damage they could, even if it was only taking chips off an infamous ice sculpture.

  A tune of epic proportions began playing, able to be heard over the destruction of everything else. A glance back confirmed that it was Embry. She pirouetted from roof to roof, spinning and playing like a mad woman while demons crawled up the walls beside her, desperate to shut the fiddler down whose tune ordered us to keep charging—and that meant not going back for her.

  “Just aim for the walls!” I ordered, yanking Mabel toward me to remain out of an Elite’s range. “These guys are nothing but decoys! It’s Gannon we have to destroy!”

  “And the crystal!” she frantically reminded me. “Nothing will change if we don’t!”

  “Yeah, but living psychopath first!”

  An image of blue blurred in the corner of my eye. I slammed my weight into Mabel’s shoulder, moving us out of the way as a frigid blade of air swept over my ribs. I tore my hand out of hers and charged the encroaching Elite head-on, Coruscus spinning behind me as the tendons and ligaments in my jaw snapped, plates of skin falling from my expanding, deadly mouth.

  The Elite smiled, bringing his chain before his body and whirling it so fast that it made a moving shield of ice and snow.

&n
bsp; Psh, like I was afraid of getting cold.

  I flexed my muscles so hard that it took all I had to move them, my veins overrun with pressure and burning gold. I rammed into the Elite head-first, a life-stealing surge of frozen mist enveloping my body as I headbutted their chest and slammed them down. I whipped my neck back, watching his eyes fracture in fury. The air pockets in his crystallized arm expanded; I shot my fist right between his eyes and through his face so hard that my knuckles met the ground, leaving a gaping, hungry black hole around his crumbling skull.

  A threat unknown to my eyes but caught by my ears spun me around. My arms shot forward and closed around the neck of a lunging Bot, hands twisting in separate directions and dropping the broken corpse at my feet. A choppy, unstable pattern of energy came at me from the side, and Coruscus swung, knocking the bolt of lightning back at the sniping Haxor and into his gun that detonated in his hands and painted the sky with his limbs.

  My eyes followed the Haxor’s falling, scorched arm, watching it crest over Mabel in the near distance. The snow within her range was slush for not even a heartbeat before evaporating, giving her an advantageous veil of mist. Her hair surged into the air as a vortex of fire, each empowered stride leaving burning footsteps in her destructive wake. Four tentacles of liquid flame reached out from her spine, each covering a different side of her body and swiping back and forth like machetes. Wisps of fire were bleeding from her scorching eyes as she ran on, her deadly red branches knocking back any who stood in her way and setting them ablaze.

  Talk about a power spike. I hadn’t just saved a warrior but resurrected a monster. I nearly shed a tear… I was just too proud!

  A scream so shrill and despairing sliced through the battlefield and physically whisked my eyes to the direction it attacked me from. My sight flew through and around the swarming bodies, zoomed in so intensely that my pupils physically burned, but when the source was finally pinpointed, my eyes rebounded in disbelief. The background battle music shifted to its frantic, distorted emergency tune, encouraging action. But it did not move me.