by R Corona
***
“Are you ready?” Before coming in, arguing noises clouded the outsides of the cell room. “Stand, we must go.” Not taking the time to look into my eyes, he unlocked the cell and pulled me out, dragging me past the threshold. In his rush, he had barely given me time to hide the dagger in the pockets of my garments. Two guards followed us through a path to the closest Chamber room. He fastened the door and exhaled when we were alone. A horizontal window allowed the morning lights to peek into the room, replicating its light onto the tiled pool centered in the room. Above the pond, a bright source focused on the blue petals of the Sanctuary Flower; somehow it had left my hair. “Get in.” Noticing I had been immobilized by his request, Gilcome repeated, “Get in, June.”
“What?—Are you serious?”
Anxiously, he nodded and opened his eyes widely, “Now!” At that moment it was hard to understand his motives, although I could never figure him out. Maybe, secretly I did. There was a vicious look in his eyes, like that of a predator about to fly off with its pray. Gilcome circled me, testing for a flinch, knowing the power of his words rattled my skin. “If you don’t go, I’ll throw you in myself.”
“Then you’ll have to that! Who do you think you are?” Believing Gilcome wouldn’t harm me, I stood firm. Not thinking it twice, he gripped my arm tightly and dragged me towards the pool. “What’s happened to you? How dare you?—Gilcome!” Trying to free myself I pushed away from him but he was stronger. The force caused me to miss a step and both of us went down against the ground.
In a glimpse, Gilcome viewed the way in which I had, briskly, shielded myself from him. A distressed face carried the heavy weight of humiliation. Unable to face me, his hands ran down his hair, forming a fist. “I’m in trouble.” He admitted in a whisper. After crawling to sit next to me, Gilcome caressed my cheek slightly towards him. “I’ve seen the future, June. It doesn’t end well, for us or for Fexorrous. No matter what I do, or what you do, it’s all rotten, sunken in damnation. Even then, among all the putridness of it all, I yearn for nothing more than to be at the center of it. Against what they say, against what I see, all those who say it can’t be done and all the contradicting images, it will be you and I. For only we have the power to rule it all.” Gilcome paused, his eyes tiptoed into mine, making sure to instigate a doubting spark which left me wishing for one of his smiles. “Things will be said about me. Some will be false, and others I’m not proud of. But what can be said about my character if I don’t stand by it all?” There was truth in his words and certainty in his ideas, however Gilcome’s hopes weren’t as precise; not when I completed them. We could never rule together, the power could only be either his or mine. Two heads could never rule, not equally. The crown could adorn one of our heads and it would be mine. Gilcome was stronger than me, physically and, perhaps energy-wise as well, since I had never practiced the Motion of Energy as he had. There was an obstruction in his well-constructed plan; he could not use the power of his energy to overthrow the Court due to his origins. I had known, but refused to believe until my eyes could witness. Soon they would.
Although he remained behind, still sitting on the ground, I could sense a gleeful smirk while my dress dragged down the pond’s steps. Gilcome ran toward the edge and instructed me to stand behind the light source centered above the pond. The Sanctuary Flower’s sea-blue petals tainted the clearness of the lukewarm water. He stood tall and firm, closing his eyes in meditation. From him, exuded a lightning source, forcefully, looping around the blue water. It flashed down like a magnet on the dampness of my skin. The room fluttered in various shades of blue. With the sucking power of a black hole, all of it came back towards me. It submerged me and held me down, feeling the cool dagger’s blade, my skin electrified in color. When the blue shade disappeared, the waters calmed soon and cleared transparently, allowing my body to float to the surface.
Gilcome helped me out of the pond and directed me to a changing screen to remove the wet, loose garments. Behind the screen there was a resting chair. A dark, lace dress hung from one of its arms. The slim fit was surprising. Golden jewels adorned the shoulders and fell down to the back. The tips of the lace layers were also dipped with the bright metal. “Gilcome, should I be wearing this?” Someone like me should not wear a garment as extravagant. Its elegance provoked attention.
His voice flowed from the opposite side of the screen, perplexed, “Does it need to be adjusted?”
“No. It fits perfectly. But I’m not sure it’s appropriate for the Coronation Ceremony.” A prisoner’s attire was ordinary and modest, even more so if such prisoner was to be offered as source. The Harnessed and I had been humbled by the sameness of clothes. Loose-fitting rags had become the unifying symbol of survival. The wet dress sat empty on the chair, deflated and lifeless. The fabric that had once consumed me, now stared into my soul. It begged not to be forgotten; wanting to be carried into victory. A rotten string surrendered at the strength of a tug. The crunching noise of the fabric’s tearing rang as a glorious murmur. I tied the patch of cloth around my left wrist in remembrance of the Harnessed; the modest and humble. There remained no room for either in my life.
“Why?” Gilcome took the liberty to peek behind the screen. “You look—it’s flawless.” His eyes ran down the length of the gown, mystified, unable to escape its splendor. A pleased gaze intimidated me, as if he had much to do with the construction of the dress. “You’ll be the surprise of the night. Surely, the heir will not mind sharing the interest of the Court—actually,” a sneer slipped between his words. “Perhaps it’ll be his interest you grasp.” No one’s interest was desirable to me, especially not at the Coronation, where going unnoticed was ideal.
“If you’re done joking, we can leave. The guards must be tired of waiting.”
“Let them wait,” he said, “and I wasn’t joking. The Court will present him with beautiful female sources of energy, Carriers, Wielders. There will be plenty of women for him to socialize. All of this is done in the efforts to ease the search for a willing partner to rule the Royal House.”
“A willing partner, huh.” Unable to hide my amusement I repeated, giving him the chance to elaborate.
“Of course, June. The cost of living by the side of the ruler of the Royal House must be paid well. Not in blood, but close. Assuming the son is as barren as the father, the girl must be a feeding source. However, I’m not insinuating the search has been unsuccessful, by no means. All admire him and too many would feel honored to serve him.”
“Certainly.”
“Plenty have applied for the Court’s consideration.” Gilcome chuckled, pointing his chin upwards, “Although he might have his sights set on a few—I hear he’s handsome.”
The statement was sure to raise a few giggles. “Is he?” After searching through the wet clothes, my glance focused downward, trying to locate the dagger which had fallen while changing. As a distraction, I continued to engage him in the conversation. “Are you sure there is a sort of girl willing to be enslaved in return of a chair and head jewels?”
“There is.” He answered, confidently. “A lucky one.” Gilcome pulled me towards him, away from the screen. “Let me show you something.” He fixed my face before the silver, framed mirror by the entrance of the room and stood behind me. While parting the side of my hair, he revealed a bright, sea-blue streak of hair. “The girl will have the graceful opportunity of standing next to him tonight.” Gilcome’s hand fell against mine, his grip reached the dagger just when I had succeeded in concealing its existence. Still holding my gaze through the mirror, he interlaced the dagger into an opening in the dress, along the inside of my arm. “Near his father, without a doubt.”
Having the dagger close, eased the shallowness of my breaths and allowed for its unification with my body. The dagger completed me. Soon, the energy would get accustomed to its movements and it would be wielded flawlessly to rip life away from skin. The dagger’s force took away words and feelings. It numbed the surr
ounding nature, its sounds and its people.
Gilcome brought me back. In between his fingers, he twisted the blue-stained streak of hair dangling from my head. After forcing me to stare at the reflection of my face, he stepped away towards the pond. Gilcome reached into the pond and rescued the Sanctuary Flower. Pale and washed out, he brought it before me. “This one will never dry… So long as you are willing to carry the force of my energy, its color will rein on you always.”
Chapter Twelve
A dozen female bodies dragged their feet in front of us. Their white dresses had been washed and ironed. A Head Guard stood at the beginning of the line, directing the grand entrance, while an unadorned guard stood at the end. The man’s energy wasn’t disruptive or severe, as was that of the other guards; his, tasted familiar. The unadorned guard had been clipped in chains to the last girl. In the likeness of the remaining baldheaded girls, she wore extraction devices on each wrist. A third device, larger and heavier, speared the top of her spine. The guard accompanying her, directed her unsteady steps with care. Unlike the rest, the last girl had bloody bruises around the foreign devices placed on her.
Before giving the final call to open the doors into the Ceremony Hall, the Head Guard dashed towards us, insisting on my bondage. Gilcome tried to comfort her, but the woman wouldn’t abandon her plea. Frantically, she yelled for other guards to restrain me. Having no choice, Gilcome agreed to put shackles on me. He tapped the unadorned guard and whispered something into his ear. The man listened attentively and nodded. Then, the guard spun to secure me to a chain already hanging from him. When he noticed me, we remained locked in astonishment. Gilcome held his glance cautiously, bothered by our lasting stares.
The guard’s doom was far greater than mine. His soul, undoubtedly, cringed every day at the sight of the uniform enforced upon him. It was the Royal House’s pleasure to subdue a Council Guard; to mock his duties, to derange his nature. The Brox I knew would breathe in the ashes of his own corpse before choosing to serve Seb Creat. When the doors of the Ceremony Hall were opened, he held on to my hand tightly, frightened by what we would encounter inside. Nothing more than a vicious anomaly, followed by a parade of air sucking worms. The bunch of them created a putrid trail behind, only to be traveled by life-spilling, deceitful generals of high rank.
Thick, glass columns and ivory steps elevated Seb Creat’s throne, towering citizens of Fexorrous and members of the Court. The Elite were seated a level below him, admiring his movements and living off his words. Leading them, was the woman in the golden cloak; my mother. Her presence did not surprise me because the city’s attendance was mandatory. All had turned out, for I could feel their energies expanding my cells. Some were weak and I was strong enough to take them, to feed on them. One, however, was stronger, tantalizing, and almost equal in power to my combined potential. In a taste, I knew its owner was close and coming even closer. It was Dez’. While searching the crowd for him, my eyes befell upon their Lord and leader.
The personification of evil could not do enough to conceal himself in the presence of brightness. The Lord’s hair was light, so were the garments and prolonged robe on his back. But Lord Creat’s eyes were as dark as his soul. With every glance, the darkness deepened and ignited. “Finally,” he clapped. “Here, dear friends, I present you the Royal House’s most precious source. Welcome them.” The dense voice crept behind everyone’s ears, deprived them, and like a thief, robbed our attention. “Breathe them in!” He yelled.
The march of tired feet sculpted a wretched melody. Stretching out into the openness of the Hall, it drummed in, against the windows, doors, and Seb Creat’s throne. The loud bangs rang wholly but the dooming sound did not weaken the girls’ faces. They walked firmly amidst the awe of the Court. We were greeted with lustful glares and ravenous grins. Some sat on center benches, staring upwards at the throne. Others stood closer along the steps, but all a level lower than Seb Creat. Lavish garments adorned each individual, competing for the richest most expensive design. One followed by another, presented Seb Creat a garment offering. Some tore away fine fabrics from their garments, while others donated their feathered hats, or skin-made gloves.
“Save me.” The murmurs of an old woman soared from the back of the crowd. “Save me, today he’ll have both,” with her eye-lids closed, she walked slowly to the steps and dropped her offering. A silver necklace fell from her hands. The pendant landed against the ivory floors, staring into the dome-like, transparent ceiling; it was the fresh eye of the Seer. Like a rushing wind, she turned. The woman’s eyelids flashed, revealing the empty holes. Her offer lingered with worth as the Court exhaled in jealousy.
In order to receive Seb Creat’s praise, a member of the Court was to top the offering. Their sights turned on a tall woman and her two companions. Dark, makeup stripes strengthened her composure as she petted one of the creatures. The beings accompanying her laid around her feet like two Dobermans. Even covered in black-leather bands and fastened by metal leashes, they looked human-like, but they were no more than extravagant pets. Suspended on black heels, she held on to the thick leash and managed to tame the creatures. Bent on their arms and legs, the beings ran with her. With a deep kiss and a spilled tear, the woman abandoned one of them by the altar. Through the last offering the Court had regained their Lord’s praise.
“I know you can feel them.” Gilcome raised an eyebrow in the form of a warning. “I also know you can wield them.” He clutched my neck and before losing his sights on Brox, whispered, “For the safety of your acquaintances, stick to the plan. My energy, although within you, can never betray me. It will never abandon me.” He moved apart from the crowd and walked ahead.
“There he is! My son. Grant, please join me.” Lord Creat had recognized him among the crowd. “Come, come. Let the ceremony begin.” Once Gilcome had gone, the space he had occupied quickly filled by the pushing and shoving of spectators. Trumpets sung along as the harnessed took their clear-glass feeding stations.
A man in a dark cloak stepped behind me, “He betrayed us all.”
“Dez?”
“The members gave him shelter, food and caring for many years. My Home raised a seed for the wicked. He was a spy. How could no one notice? Neither Zorga, nor Ms. Baynes could do their job—not even my own daughter. The members were supposed to filter Creat’s evil, instead they let him right through the doors. They allowed him to stain an unpolluted land.” It wasn’t their fault. Maybe he should have looked closer for someone to blame. Dez had hidden, he’d fled instead of fighting. He set himself to sleep, knowing his wife had been captured. All those years, how could he have stayed still, alone with his thoughts? Had he no sense of guilt? The sole purpose of the House was to act as a portal to infiltrate Fexorrians into my world.
“The World has its own share of evil. If its pureness concerns you, it is a little too late. They are all corruptible…like Fexorrians.”
He gasped in astonishment with a hint of disgust. “How can you speak that way?” Dez paused and sighed in relief—“At least their rule will come to an end tonight.” The certainty in his words jittered at the sight of my puzzled face. “The curse of the crown set by the Halls of Existence falls upon any second lineage member. Meaning there can’t be two consecutive rulers linked by blood. Else, whoever is crowned during a ruler’s reign, is drained of their energy—Creat knows of Existence’s Curse but he’d rather sacrifice Gilcome than to have the Devine Foretelling befall on his reign.” Dez chuckled, “Except Gilcome cannot be crowned. This time, there will no loop hole.”
“Gilcome can’t rule, then?”
“No. Gilcome is not barren like his father therefore his energy will be drained and discarded to the Halls of Existence.” Dez closed his eyes in bliss and said, “I can feel the force of his power. It’s strong, fresh, unlike any other. The crown will consume him.”
Grief infiltrated my senses, I dared not to look at him but the shrugging of my shoulders let him know. To him, to his cause a
nd to mom, my actions were disgraceful. What would she think of me?
“It won’t consume him, will it?” Anguish fell upon his glance. “It’s you. It’s your energy. What have the two of you done?” Dez’ hands covered his face in disbelief, “June, this is a violation. You will be tried for this! June, June—are you listening?”
From our viewpoint, my mother’s face looked peaceful, without a hint of disapproval. There could not be. Her clothes, her company, even where she sat, revealed her nature. She was a member of the Elite, the highest ranking official in Fexorrous. She had allowed my father to die, yet she wept for those murdered by Creat’s hand. Having the ability to save him, the Elite had condemned my father to die, to be ripped in pieces by winged beasts. How could she disapprove of me? My desire to rule was greater than anyone’s opinion, it was greater than disappointment. I needed power, I needed it for my father, because he had believed in me. Hope had to be lifted, raised into the spirits of those willing to dream. But mostly, I needed power for myself, to grow, to burst through the limits of my physicality. At that moment, Dez’ words meant nothing. They dissolved in the wind, leaving the air unaltered. Nothing Dez had to say was relevant.
“Dear friends,” Lord Seb Creat rose from his chair and requested the Court’s attention. “Before the feeding, I would like to, officially, welcome my son to Fexorrous. After the completion of a troubling mission, the future leader of this land has returned to set our hearts at ease. He has brought us back hope, for he is the true Carrier of Hope.” The crowd cheered and praised their rulers. “The Royal House has withstood many combats and as long as I live, our citizens will live free of Existence and its laws. Free of the Council and its superiority ideals, and free from rulers wishing to program our citizens into believing that form design, innovation, experimentation and sharing will condemn us—now,” Seb Creat joined his hands at his chest and bowed his head, “join me, silently, in a moment of worship for our gracious, harnessed sources. Let our feeding and reenergizing be as gratifying for us as for them.” The Court had already separated into feeding-groups along the glass stations when Seb Creat interrupted their draining desire. “Wait, wait. One more thing.” Creat’s eyes blackened with anticipation. “As a gift to honor the Court’s loyalty, I present the purest source; untainted and organic. This energy is rich in emotion; fear, hate, anguish. It flows in doubt and certainty, in realization and damnation. The most wanted being in Existence, the simplest, the healthiest, the answer seeker, has been brought to Fexorrous for the Court’s delight. Straight from the tap, you’ll be able to absorb the wonder of the human mind.” He reveled in the Court’s amazement. “Bring me the human!”