by R Corona
My lack of words disrupted Nea’s crying. Both girls joined in worry. “June?” They called in a soft-spoken tone.
“I’m fine, guys. It hurts less and less every day.” At the sound of my voice they sighed.
“That’s the spirit!” Olam jumped towards the armoire and searched through the garments that had been hung by the female guards. “You’ll see, June, the bruising will disappear in no time.”
“Yes, Olam is right,” Nea agreed, though she knew it was a lie. A week had gone by, since the guard had beaten me, and the bruises on the side of my face and neck intensified in color each day. I made a point not to focus on the pain and the purplish color of my skin because we needed to be strong for each other. So we exchanged lies in between ourselves, knowing the sound of our demise could come as a knock on our door at any second. The three of us hadn’t been the only ones sent to the Light Chambers, but of the group of the selected Energy Carriers, we had remained. Down in the Holding Chambers, others had been gathered until a big enough group had been formed. Throughout the week some girls had been called by the Head-Guards, but their heads had never been shaved like Olam’s and Nea’s. Given turns, one would return from her meeting and was allowed to sleep. Each day, in the morning, we would find bed sheets stained with blood, and that’s the last we would see of her. Sometimes two tainted beds in a day, until they all had gone.
“Here’s the gown for your ceremony,” Olam walked away from the armoire and laid the dress on my bed. But the dress should not have been close to me, I wanted nothing to do with it or with the ceremony. No one would dictate what I should wear, and I wouldn’t stand for it, even if my bed sheets were to be covered in blood because of it. “Try it on!” The encouragement in her tone brightened my mood but didn’t convince me. These tactics were the ones used to seduce opponents to the point of servitude and worship. “June, it’s just a dress.” She leaned over while Nea wasn’t looking, “I’m scared too, but if we are going to find a way out of here, the three of us need to survive.”
“They’ll turn us into mindless slaves before we get the chance to run away.” Thinking about escaping was impossible. We were surrounded. Their eyes followed us everywhere and the solitude nurtured the paranoia living inside our minds. Wearing the dress meant I had taken a step towards joining Creat’s macabre practices and I would rather die in an act of defiance than to live as a prisoner or slave.
“You will let a dress defeat you?” Olam raised her voice in anger which caused Nea to take interest in our dispute. “A piece of cloth is stronger than you?” She shook her head and stepped away from my bed. “If a dress can bring about your downfall, or if the hair on your head can break your spirit, then you are not the June Fexorrous needs. You are not the June Dez spoke of.” She frowned in disappointment and whispered, “Certainly, you are not the one who carries Hope.” Olam’s eyes sparkled with tears as she left to look over the shut, glass window in the chamber.
Nea rushed to my side and patted my shoulder. “The guards can beat you, they can drain you. They can dress you up and clean you up.” Nea paused and stared into the distance, then at her own reflection in the mirror. “Two things they are incapable of, these things are the most important; they cannot change your soul, nor can they destroy it. Look on the bright side,” she laughed, “at least you’ll be able to get out of this room for a while and won’t have to hear us argue.”
Outside the Light Chamber there was a vast, white hall, roamed by barefoot, female Head-Guards. They were determined to uphold their position as the admiration of the Royal House, making sure to keep an uncontaminated appearance at all times. All wore their hair loose, falling above the waist. Unlike the guards in the Holding Chambers, the Head-Guards’ black garments were adorned with energy-purifying, stone ribbons around their necks and shoulders. This upper level of the Royal House was a different world from the death furnace below. Twice a day, they allowed the wind in from a large window centered on the hall to breeze through our dormitories. Compared to the lethargic level below us, the ambiance was calming and energetic. It soothed our senses so that we could be accustomed to the Royal House, therefore allowing it to override any choice regarding the draining of our energy.
The garment dragged behind me and because I hadn’t been fed since the imprisonment, it fell loose around the waist and shoulders. The girls had, both, tasted food during their rituals, but only then. The guards ensured our intake included neutral flavors to avoid allergic reactions to the consumers of Seb Creat’s Court. Nea made me twirl around a few times, most times I tripped due to the extra fabric. We laughed and for the seconds that remained, we fantasied about ways of escaping. Olam offered to break the window’s glass by throwing the mirror, but the glass might be too strong. Nea then suggested we push the armoire into it with all our force. The level wasn’t too far off from the grounds. We could easily make the jump. However, the grounds were surrounded by guards and there was also a fence, which we couldn’t climb without being noticed. In the middle of deciphering all the dead ends we knew not to take, the knocks came, interrupting the most fun I had had in a long time. Three of them walked in, and there was an urge to resist, but I held my composure in front of Nea and Olam for my sake and theirs. While being escorted out, their sobs left with me through the door.
***
Ceramic tiles of a light, teal-shade reflected themselves, uniformly, on the clear water of the pond. The steps, to which the guards had escorted me, glistened in gold with emerald stones encrusted along the sides. Having reached the first step, they ordered me to go further and exited the room. The dress drew much of the water as I jumped off the last step. Quickly, its weight began to sink me to the bottom of the tiled pool. My arms splashed around to grab a hold of the golden trim but I had already floated to the center. A woman approached the water. She had appeared from behind a large wooden beam, similar to the ones in our Light Chamber. Not being able to grip the trim, I waved for help. My feet tangled around the loose fabric of the dress and slowly, my body sank.
From underneath the surface, I watched her pour a thick liquid on the water. The woman was not bothered by the sight of my drowning but neither was I. Under the water it felt calm and silent, my interest was focused on the twirling of the water caused by the woman’s liquid. She stepped away from the pond and looked at it. From the depth of the pond, my eyes were not able to make out the woman’s appearance. Everything flowed in a blur to the side, and then back in a circle. A piece of gold flashed in the water as it fell in a chunk from the trim. When she had gone through the beam, the flash sparkled and fed the spiraling waters. The rush formed a current under my feet, springing me up onto the top of the steps. I laid on my belly as new women entered the room through the main entrance, accompanied by an old lady.
This older woman was dressed much like me, in a white gown and barefoot. Her hands yanked me up from the steps. Without saying a word, she parted my hair to look at the skin of my neck. As the Main Head-Guard, she owned my body and that of all female prisoners to be presented to the Lord. The roughness of her hands was due to extensive manual labor throughout the life of servitude she had given him. Aside from shaving heads, she mended and sewed ceremonial dresses. The blades and needles had not been easy tools to manage, as could be assumed by the look and texture of her hands. From the forearms to the tips of her fingers, there were scars of different sizes creating an uneven, dry feel to her skin.
The Main Head-Guard dropped my hair and yelled for the other three guards. The four of them began to speak in New World Tongue, a language I shouldn’t have understood and hadn’t heard since arriving at the Halls of Existence. Yet the more they continued to speak, I understood the words as if I had been born speaking it. The Main Head-Guard, whom the other guards referred to as Teek, expressed her concern after not being able to read my energy signature. The other guards suggested that maybe I was one of the Experimental Race subjects, and maybe, perhaps my signature was harder to read. This newly found a
bility of understanding their tongue, led me to more discoveries about Fexorrous’ damnation and about that of the human race. It granted me the power of doubting my own nature, as I was left stripped of it, without a label to represent me.
“She must be one of them.” The youngest guard took another look at me and then described the way I walked, talked and carried myself, as if she had been observing me through the entire period. “Her resemblance to the subjects is undeniable.”
The guard next to her, a blonde woman, hadn’t been convinced. She spoke in all efforts to disapprove the youngest guard’s observations. “All Experimental Race subjects are secured in the Laboratory Halls. If she is, indeed, one of them, how will you explain her being here in front of us?” Then she expressed the main problem with the theory, “How will we explain to Lord Creat that one of his creations has escaped?”
The third guard whom had remained silently listening to the other guards, started to shake her head in fear. “What if she’s been in contact with Fexorrian citizens? What if she infected them? What if she’s infected us? — His creations will jeopardize the purity of our race, we must inform him at once, no matter the consequences.” They continued to bicker about whether or not to tell their leader about my existence. Their master’s rage was volatile and, among them, one was not keen on dying as a result of others’ mistakes; those whom had allowed me to roam free.
“Calm!” The Main Head-Guard took control of the conversation and disapproved their conclusion towards my true race. “The girl cannot be Lord Creat’s creation.” For their sake I better wasn’t, “those subjects are composed of an artificial mixture of races containing a single, copied energy signature.” The older woman pressed her fingers, harshly, on the skin of my neck and continued to speak, “This girl has multiple energy signatures, and her being is made only of it.” She let go of me and lowered her head, “The ritual cannot be performed on her!”
“What?” The blonde guard stepped in-between the other guards and approached the Main Head-Guard in a rage. “Why not? How will we present her to the Court? The Coronation Ceremony for Lord Creat’s son is in two days?”
“The ritual will not be performed on her and that’s final!”
“Then we will proceed as usual with her termination at the Light Chamber,” said the youngest guard.
“No. The girl must not be harmed.” Head-Guard Teek remained fixed on her position but the other guards could not understand why she was so determined on canceling the ritual.
“Then, your head will be fed on instead of her’s.” The blonde woman was determined to follow usual orders. She took a breath and voiced her disbelief towards the Main Head-Guard, “Do you not fear what he will do to us, to you especially?”
Main Head-Guard Teek, responded in a quick whisper, “I fear her most.” The sadness of her semblance indicated the end of an era was to come. The women looked at each other not knowing how to respond.
The quiet guard spoke again. “Do you see the Divine Foretelling in her?” She did not wait for an answer, all that was needed was a nod from Guard Teek. The quiet one continued. “It is her. She will bring the Council of Existence upon us. Once they discover Fexorrous has violated the Human Interference Treaty, we will all be doomed.” Her glance fell down and she began to walk towards the exit, “As his guards we will be the first to be executed, having been the loyal servants of immorality.”
Main Head-Guard Teek grabbed her and pushed her against one of the beams resting on the wall. She made sure that none of the guards would speak of her discovery. They were instructed to walk me to the Light Chamber. “Inform Lord Creat’s son of her appearance, he will know how to dispose of her properly.” From their whispers, Lord Creat’s son was harsher than his father. Often, people thought he had the power to overthrow Creat. His son had been born as an energized being, his veins flowed with power and his heart craved to rule the land. Creat had lived in a jealous battle throughout his rule, even sending his son away from Fexorrous for most of his childhood. Now, older, a small drop of power was the only thing needed to spark an insatiable quest to rule.
***
The doors leading inside the Light Chamber room were opened. At the sight of my unshaven head, Nea remained paralyzed on her bed. The guards walked behind me with care, making sure not to hurt me. Their eyes avoided my glance, perhaps due to fear or maybe because they pitied my fate. When the doors where closed, Nea waited for their whispers to disappear and burst into a screeching cry. Horrified, she pointed at my head.
“No!” She ran to Olam’s arms. “She’ll be killed!” Nea yelled. “She’ll die before our eyes.”
“Don’t be silly, Nea, nothing will happen to me.” It was my duty to make her feel safe. Nea was a couple years younger than me. Her youth could not support the weight of the reality we were in, causing her spirit to crush repeatedly. “My ceremony was suspended, but will resume tomorrow morning.”
Nea looked up at Olam, not knowing if she should believe me. “Then, you will be like Olam and I?”
“Yes, Nea. Tomorrow I will become one of the Harnessed, just like you and Olam.”
Nea wiped her tears away, “Do you promise?”
“Nothing bad will happen to me, or to you. Our blood will not be shed, not by them—”
“—June’s right.” Olam interrupted, her eyes glistened with vengeance and hope. “Our faith in Dez, The Great Dez, must remain strong. He will save us. He will save Fexorrous.” The foolishness of her words took me aback. We could not wait for anyone to come rescue us. This was our fight, a fight that would never be won by waiting for others, especially if those others consisted of Dez. The Great Dez had gotten himself captured, walking boastfully through Fexorrian prison cells. His hubris knew no boundaries, it would escalate higher and higher, stepping on the heads of those closest to him, and ultimately it would reach the highest level; where it would consume him.
When the star rays had dimmed and Nea had been beaten by sleep, I motioned Olam to meet me by the side of the Light Chamber’s door, from where the wooden beam was most visible. Before giving me a chance to begin, she asked, “there won’t be any ceremony tomorrow, will there?”
I shrugged and shook my head. “The Main Head-Guard will transfer me to the command of Seb Creat’s son in the morning. My signature could not be read.”
Olam sighed, “You’ll become one of the Harnessed, then? Oh what a relief, I thought you’d be terminated by sundown.”
“No.” My words where strong and precise, “I won’t be terminated and I won’t become one of the Harnessed. Tonight, before they get a chance to transfer me, we’ll leave the Royal House.”
Olam knew the life that awaited us, one of servitude and drainage. “Leave?” Maybe for her, this life had more purpose than her previous life. A life given any purpose—good or evil, great or small—can fulfill those searching for one, even if it eats up one’s humanity. Then again, I was the only human in Fexorrous. “How can we leave?” Olam did not seem to understand that these people did not want to keep us here to worship Seb Creat. We were here to feed him, to serve our energy, so that it could flow through his veins. Nothing of mine would ever be his.
“Olam, no one will come save us. Not Dez, not anyone. We can’t sit here and wait to be rescued. There’s a way out and we’d be foolish not to follow it.” In a rush, desperation climbed to my only remaining option, a single vision of hope; a guess. I would grab any chance–even if it meant taking a gamble on my life. The Light Chamber’s wooden beam might lead straight into Seb Creat’s dormitory, or perhaps into another holding cell, but there was a chance it led somewhere else. If the woman from the cleansing pools had entered thorough the wooden bean, there had to be a path behind the walls of the Royal House. We could either venture into the unknown and risk our recapture, or remain captured. If there was life still left in me, my name would not be given willingly to Seb Creat and his Court.
The wooden beam felt rough and dry against my ear. From the sou
nd of it, on the other side of the beam, ocean waves crashed along a beaten shore. It was the sound of a spiral of narrow halls. Nea awakened and inquired about our fascination with the beam. She examined it from side to side, looking for a knob or handle to separate it from the wall. The setting star interrupted our attempts. As we concluded, the only way to open the door was to push it from the inside. There was no way we could find a grip and even if we did, it was too heavy for the three of us to pull.
Footsteps cluttered our desperate intents of escaping. They were coming for me as they had come for the other girls. I stood close to the door, so that Nea and Olam didn’t have to see me struggle. Neither had heard the clicking and clacking coming from the guards’ shoes. A last stare at the wooden beam rejuvenated my senses and for a moment I felt as powerful as Seb Creat himself. Olam noticed a change in my semblance and walked towards the door. It was my opportunity to convince her. They would escape, the force that flowed through me assured me: at least they would escape.
“When the beam opens, take Nea and run. Don’t look back, just run. I’ll be ok.”
Her glance fell and she began shaking her head from side to side. Before Olam had a chance to refuse, a burst of energy flowed forcefully outwards from my being and into the beam. Both girls remained still, while the beam gave way. “Now!” I yelled.