by R Corona
“No, June, not without you,” Nea cried.
“They’re coming for me, it’s too late. I have to give you guys a chance.—Olam please go. I’ll be alright.” As the beam shut behind them, I believed my words to be true and they were the last words spoken to them.
***
I met the guards outside the chamber room so that my roommates’ absence could remain a secret until the morning. With hands bound in silver, I was blindfolded and guided through, what felt like, a labyrinth. Five hundred and twenty-two steps after, the guards informed me that we would be climbing two flights of stairs. At the top, a set of male guards stood before us, keeping us from going through a tall door. The door was alike every other door in the Royal House; wooden and large.
One of the female guards that had accompanied me spoke to them in New World tongue; I was no longer able to understand but the male guards were angered by her words. The closest to us smashed a bell hanging from the door. A few seconds after, we heard noises coming from the unbolting of the door. From the shadows of the room, a hooded figure emerged, and gave a hand signal.
The female guards left me there, stranded, and I felt the eyes of the hooded person study me with interest. I dared not to look forward as the rest of them vowed in respect. It came closer to me. Chills ran down my neck and back as it circled me. A gentle touch took hold of my arm and dragged me in. Behind us, the guards slammed the door shut.
***
Still in silver shackles, I was allowed to sit on a wide, see-through platform. The figure observed me firmly. Its interest remained on the bruises that had been left around my face and neck. The room felt cold even when there was a large glass letting in bright star-rays. The glass, which ran from the top of the gold-painted ceiling to the marble floors, offered a clear view into the city of Fexorrous. On the wall opposite to the glass, there were weapons displayed. From swords and daggers to pistols and chains. A small part of the wall carried strange metal devices. Most had sharp and pointy edges, while others were sure to crush the weight of my bones.
The speed of my heart raced when the figure directed its steps closer to the wall. I kept my eyes fixed on the gold ceiling; something beautiful to entertain my last glance. It was best not to see which weapon it would choose. My death, then, would at least, surprise me. No part of my body would be restrained in pain until the moment came. Nothing would restrain me, not the shackles, not Seb Creat’s guards, not death. I was free.
Freedom of spirit wasn’t all that useful, not when my heart ached for those believing in Dez and his cause. I missed him. Thinking of him, I thought of all others whom I had met and known and those whom I had loved and lost. My throat became a knot while I fought tears as nothing I had ever encountered before. A weak gasp for air allowed a tear to run free. The hooded figure heard the agony of the lonely tear and stared at me after stuffing a flask on the pocket of its robe. I dared not to look, I couldn’t let that be the last image of my life. Neither did I want it to think that I was scared or weak. A few more tears followed and I wiped them away. Every step the hooded creature took marked an untaken step in the cause for Dez. As he moved, tears flowed uncontrollably, maybe due to fear of dying or maybe due to the rage coming from one who’s kept from her destiny. Either way, each one was wiped with strength, though my hands shook.
The hooded person removed the robe and placed it behind the platform. I couldn’t get a good look but knew he was a man by the shape of his body and his powerful stance. The man knelt by my side. Slowly, his hand reached my jaw and I prayed for a quick death. My glance did not diverge, for it was the only thing I could control; it was my escape.
“Does it hurt?” The man asked with intrigue. I didn’t answer but instead replayed the incident in my head. There was a part of my being which wanted to share what had occurred. Noticing my silence the man went on. “Was it one of my guards? What kind of a monster would hit a woman in this way, in any way?” In his questioning he answered himself and reveled the truth about his identity. The man had referred to the guards as his guards. Only Seb Creat and his lineage would give such orders and command monsters of their likeness. “Whoever did this will be punished! I will not tolerate this barbarity any longer, June.” He held his breath. “I am sorry this has happened to you. The miserable bastard will pay!”
My body fell numb against the platform as he called my name once more. “June, won’t you look at me?” What surprised me wasn’t the mention of my name but the way he spoke it, the way he asked for my attention. My ears had engaged in an act of deceit. I trusted my eyes to keep me from doubt and fell into a far worse trap at the sight of his face. “Did you forget to remember me?” He removed the flask and from his sleeve, fell a sea-blue flower. It had fully bloomed.
Then I knew it truly was him. “Grant, Grant Gilcome?”
He nodded and placed the flower on my lap, “take it.” It must have been a vision, or a wish of the heart because Gilcome’s body had been left dead on a bed residing at the Council of Existence. I took the flower, knowing it could only bloom behind the Council’s door, which led to the place where trees grew. The blood stains had been wiped off, outgrown. “Did you forget to remember me?” Gilcome stared anxiously waiting for my response. I had, of course I had forgotten him...But to tell him wasn’t wise, because it was a lie and he knew. Gilcome knew everything.
“The Sanctuary? You’ve found it. Have you visited?” It was the first thought that came to my mind, and it was easier to speak of.
“I did visit, with you. Don’t you remember that either?”
“When I returned to the Council, you had been laid on a bed due to a fall from the Controller’s panel. You couldn’t have been in the Sanctuary with me.”
He shook his head implying my words were incorrect, but I continued without giving him a chance to correct them. “I saw your body; you were dead.”
Gilcome smiled proudly and clipped the blue flower onto my hair. “Am I alive now?”
“As alive as you were dead then.”
“It wasn’t my body you saw—don’t concern yourself with what’s happened in the past. It’s of no help now.” Gilcome stood away and gathered a few bottles on a tray.
“Did you fall from Controller Hed’s panel?”
“How will this answer be of any good to you?” The peaceful way in which Gilcome avoided my questions frustrated me.
“Did you fall or not?”
“No.” Gilcome admitted. “Well...” He stopped mixing the liquids and doubted his own answer. “In theory, yes but it didn’t occur as you believe...I was in the Sanctuary with you the entire time.”
“Then explain it to me, Gilcome, because I don’t understand. How could you have been in two places at once? In one existence, I saw you die.” Not only did I have to witness his death, I also felt as Gilcome’s soul escaped his body. “Were you fooling us all, then?” There was meaning in Gilcome’s silence; it was loaded with the foul secrets of his creation. Not able to endure his indifference towards my preoccupation, I bolted forwards grabbing one of the wooden sticks hanging from the weapon walls. “How could you have done this?” My screams insisted on a reaction; I wanted to hear his fury. The fury of a Gilcome who had once stood for a noble cause.
The two guards broke through the doors and restrained me although Gilcome commanded them to set me free. To ensure his security they locked me away in a cell to the side of Gilcome’s chamber. The guards asked him if any Healers were needed for me, noticing the worsening of my neck bruises. Gilcome refused, letting them know he was the only one allowed to heal me. The guards were excused and Gilcome remained, speaking to me through the bars. He had been holding a small glass cup in his hands.
Gilcome and I had been the only ones at the Sanctuary that day. No one else was aware of the place, yet there was no explanation as to how the blood had appeared on me and my body was left unharmed. Those memories had been sealed; tampered with. “I was there with you. I never left you.” He looked at my face a
nd stared at my confusion. “The blood wasn’t mine. —Drink this, please.”
Gilcome’s hand fit through the bars and I grabbed the liquid and contemplated whether to trust him. “Why?”
“It will help heal you.” He whispered.
“My bruises can heal on their own. Potions or concoctions won’t help, but the truth will. It’s the only antidote never given to me and the harder to find—how are you alive, Grant?”
“Don’t be stubborn, you cannot heal on your own. Drink it.” The worrisome look in his face proved unshakable.
“I saw you die. You were dead—why are you here, at the Royal House? Why are you alive?” Seeing that my questions were getting no vocal responses, I decided to study him. His skin reddened when I placed the glass on the ground. “Who are you?” Having asked about his identity, it occurred to me I had no longer one, because I was dead as well. Then it could all make sense. Gilcome approached the cell while holding a set of keys. He walked inside and instructed me to extend both arms. After having removed the shackles, he bent and picked the glass up. “Drink it—aren’t you happy to see me again? Didn’t you miss me…or think of me?”
“We’re both dead, Gilcome, you can stop pretending.”
“Drink it!” His eyes burned like flames and his voice deepened with fury. “If you drink it, I will tell you everything.” Gilcome pulled a stool in front of the cell and watched me swallow the potion. The vacant space revealed one of the wooden beams, which potentially hid another opening into the passage way. Freedom was a few feet away. My eyes diverted and focused on the empty cup in my hands and I looked at his sincere posture, never doubting the words that would follow or the severity of the deal presented. Gilcome reminded me of home. Strangely, he made me feel safe, although, he was angry at me. Gilcome’s words were dry, cold and in the end he had managed to immerse me in the tale:
The Council of Existence had sent him as an ambassador to aid the Fexorrian Freedom Cause. Gilcome was smart and had average strength but he couldn’t fight an army. He couldn’t speak on behalf of the Council or form protest groups. Gilcome had been sent as a Healer; he’d been sent to heal me. No one else could. His energy had been stamped on mine and could not allow for the coexistence of another energy source. Both energy signatures had merged seamlessly, forming a deathly barrier that would attack any other signature.
To be healed by a non-healer was a dangerous practice which could result in death for both parties. Left un-cauterized the non-healer’s signature would, over time, blend with the victim’s. Through the signature’s opening, the victim’s condition could directly transmit to the non-healer with the presence of emotional panic acting as a stimulant. The imbalance would likely cause an energy attack for the non-healer, while the victim slowly recuperated; feeding on the newly acquired source. After having healed a victim, the non-healer would become a true Healer able to serve others with the necessary training.
The Sanctuary had been stained with my blood. It was my blood all along and he had healed me.
***
During the night, the coldness of the cell hugged me and insisted on not letting go. There had been a blanket somewhere around me, but it must have fallen off. I dared not to move as the darkness paralyzed my every thought. The cool wind invaded my body, freezing my bones and thickening the blood around them. Gilcome had insisted on staying until I fell asleep. The mattress was narrow, hard, and did not help clear my mind. It also did not help to have him there, observing me through the cell bars.
The hauling of the harsh wind resumed my state of insomnia. Scratching noises coming from behind the walls soon followed and I longed for Gilcome’s company; the warmth that radiated from his presence. He had disappeared, as I found myself awake again. A heavenly body illuminated the night, its light reached the small window atop the walls of the cell. The clarity allowed me to see an opening crack on the wooden beam. Before realizing that someone had opened the passageway, a golden cloak broke through the dense air, glittering before the cell bars. The gold struck out, adding to the illumination of the room, and slowly the temperature increased. The hood still covered her face and contrasted the darker shades of burnt auburn in her hair. From the inside of the cloak, the woman removed a hand dagger. The golden hood stretched up a few centimeters and her lips became visible; they curved in a smile. Unsure of her intentions, I pinned myself against the wall, farther from the bars.
“It isn’t my wish to hurt you.” She let the hood fall behind her neck but remained holding the bars. “I’ve come to deliver a message. May you come closer?” Her voice reached my ears clearly, there was no need to step towards the woman; not when she still had a grip on the dagger.
“Who are you?”
The woman introduced both hands through the bars and presented the dagger to me. “Is this not yours?” A spark of curiosity allowed me to move closer. Able to take a better look into my face, her eyes lit with joy. “Take it.”
It was too risky to approach her, as she possessed a weapon and I had no way of defending myself. Her sole presence was threating. “Slide it across.” The dagger flew towards me and collided with my feet. “How did you get this?” The last time I had seen the dagger, we were in the back of a truck on our way to a Fexorrian Cell Chamber. To have the dagger in my hands, felt as if I had the memory of my father closer. Forgetting the fear, I leaped to the bars and thanked her. The woman had reunited me with what remained of my family.
Her light-brown eyes sparkled when she said my name, then she paused as if a knot of emotions kept her from voicing her concerns. “Forgive me, but—” The woman finally spoke again, there was sorrow in her tone; a hint of disappointment, “can you really not recognize me?” A glossy teardrop fell from her eyes. “Junie?”
I reached for her and though the bars were in-between, I hugged my mother desperately and let myself weep in her arms; she wept as well. We spoke of my father; his hopes and dreams and of the dim future that awaited her without him. But my father’s murder would not go unpunished, his blood hadn’t been spilled in vain. As long as my life lasted, Fexorrous would return to a fair ruler. Dez’ cause would resume as quickly as I could get out of the cell and put all efforts to release him from wherever the guards had imprisoned him. Edda Rehnor, my mother, had come to save me. Together, the three of us would find Grandmother Cora. The four of us could not be stopped then, there was no energy source greater than ours. I could feel it inside.
“I’m ready for what’s to come. Get me out.”
“June,” Her face became pale and her voice stiffened. “I did come to deliver a message. Listen carefully—”
“A message?” What message could be more important than getting out of here? Than being free from the Royal House? Dim star-rays announced the beginning of morning lights. Fexorrian Guards could come at any second to run the morning check, or Gilcome, or any other unwanted person. We needed to go.
“Yes, a message from Dez.” My mother knelt down next to me and continued, “We have a plan in motion, and everything is set to take the city over. You are the vital part, June.” Me. How could they have a plan? How could they have formed anything when Dez was behind bars, as was I and Brox?
“Dez has been captured, he was captured with me and a Council Guard.”
“June, there’s not much time to explain now. –Listen carefully. According to The Divine Foretelling the one who carries hope will free Fexorrous. Seb Creat has to be destroyed.”
“I’m supposed to…destroy him. Me?”
“Why are you so shocked?” My mother narrowed her eyes, unable to understand the surprised look in my face. “This has been your calling since joining the House. You were meant for this,” She began to cry, not believing her own words. “You have to kill him. The city is rotting by his hand. People perish everyday due to his insatiable thirst. To him, we are mere energy bags. Fexorrous will sink if he is allowed to rule any more. The future will only bring death, starting with your grandmother, Cora. Dez has been tra
cing her energy signature but it’s too weak to provide a location. They’ve drawn too much from her. If she isn’t found soon…” My mother’s head fell downwards, unable to control her sobs, “—she’ll die.” Her hands shook viciously. There were various scars along the sides of her wrist bone which indicated the place of touring shackles used to draw energy. How she had escaped was a mystery to me. “I cannot stand any more death. You are our only hope.”
“How?”
She looked at the dagger, then at me. “My duty was to bring you the means.” The dagger glistened in my hand and as the jolt of light reached her, my mother fell against the bars. “No. You can’t. I’ve told Dez a million times, you can’t. I won’t let you.” Her eyes burst with tears and her voice with anguish. “A hero serves to die and then you’ll only be a casualty. I cannot let my June die, not now.” She said to herself. “I’ll kill him, it’s my duty. Even if I’m fed to the Ragoudi, even if my head is cut off, I won’t let you risk it —let’s go, forget Dez.” With her eyes closed and hands extended, she prepared to break the cell doors open.
“No. Leave now.” A warning would suffice. “If you don’t, I’ll call the guards.” It would be me, I would be the only hero.
“June, please come with me.” She whispered frantically again, “Forget Dez, and forget everyone. This is not your war, it was never your war. It should not have taken a look into your eyes to realize that. Come with me and we can leave this damned place behind, and honor your father’s memory away from the root of evil. We’ll both be alive.”
“I can’t.” Alive would never feel as good as avenged, this war was mine, and I was born for it. Alive was the feeling the dagger gave me, to be alive. There was fear in me again, because he had returned like a dancing flame to disrupt my world. He wouldn’t win, not if my hands rested in blood. “Let me do this, mom. I can do it. Let me be the hope.”
She sat by my side caressing my hair through the bars until the starlight finally bloomed into the morning. Before exiting through the beam, she kissed my forehead and advised, “June, be aware of those you trust.” When she had gone, the broken teardrops on the floor still reflected the golden color of her cloak.