Mourning Ember

by Odin Oxthorn

  “Can I see one of Elam’s?”

  “I suppose that would be all right.” They traced a finger over a list of recordings, tapping on a title. “Oh, this was a good one! It’s how Savant earned the invitation to participate in the World Council.”

  ##3.1##

  An unsettling stillness chilled the dimly lit corridor, amplified by the calm rhythmic gait of a uniformed official. The visitor made their way down the path of holding cells, a wry smile infecting their lips with concealed intent.

  While most of the Ara’yulthr would consider the word “demon” a slur, this individual appeared to embrace it. Soot from past burned bridges stained their tousled mane, framing their cold features in a disquieting shadow. Their severe eyes lanced through the walls, an otherworldly gaze that could effortlessly excavate the universe’s darkest secrets for later use.

  They paid no mind to the soft pattering behind them, deliberating over obscured plots as they waited for the soldier to catch up.

  “Your briefing, Lieutenant.” Abberon’s icy voice resonated through the chamber.

  “I’m afraid the situation has grown critical, Warlord,” the soldier reported, maintaining their distance behind their superior. “At even a minimal supply consumption rate, we will last two, maybe three weeks.”

  “Anything else?” The warlord concealed their displeasure, preferring to wait until the knife was buried and leave the victims to draw their own conclusions.

  “As of now, we have lost approximately thirty percent of our forces to the opposition.” The lieutenant paused to take in a weighted breath. “If we can’t get the missile silos activated again, we will lose on even ground.”

  “Take me to the collaborators.”

  “At once, Warlord.” The lieutenant pushed the shadow of foreboding aside and stepped ahead, leading Abberon deeper through the facility. Thoughts raced across their mind as they attempted to decipher the intent of their superior, uncertain what judgment would face the offenders. The lieutenant cleared their throat as they stopped in front of a cell door, inviting Abberon to assess the monitor with a gesture.

  The warlord tapped the screen awake, revealing a camera view inside the cell. Two soldiers huddled together in the corner, holding hands and murmuring quiet assurances to each other.

  “Send them into the wilderness without provisions. If they want to leave so badly, let them contest with nature first.” Abberon leered at the lieutenant expectantly. “I trust you can arrange this.”

  The soldier averted their gaze. “Yes, Warlord.”

  A chirp from Abberon’s wrist sliced through the atmosphere. “Warlord? The med bay is ready for you.”

  “Good. I will be there shortly.” Abberon gave an approving nod and stepped away from the cell.

  A darkness cast over the lieutenant’s face as realization tore through their features. They braved a glance at the warlord’s back, disbelief corrupting their tone. “You’re throwing the fight.”

  Abberon stopped, turning back to their subordinate. “I prefer to call it ‘leaving a lasting impression’.”

  ##3.2##

  “The latest operation was a success,” the lieutenant reported to a young Nara, who was barely broad enough to fill the chair she commanded from.

  She raised an eyebrow. “You don’t sound confident.”

  The lieutenant dropped their shoulders. “I’m just very tired, Warlord.”

  “It should be over soon.”

  “I—” They inhaled a flustered breath while their arguments processed. “Everyone’s tired. Morale has been lower than ever before after uncovering the weaponry Abberon’s side possesses. They’re scared.”

  Nara displayed no concern, bringing up a screen of the battle map for analysis. “Which is why our shadow units decommissioned them.”

  “Suppose we can’t next time? What if—”

  “Pardon the intrusion, officers. We…” A shaky-voiced soldier entered the office, hesitating to clear the apprehension from their throat. “We have captured Abberon.”

  Nara leaned back in her chair, the weight of the report pressing down on her. She could sense the relief radiating from her lieutenant, but she did not share their enthusiasm. The news smelled rotten. Another motive was at play. “How?”

  “They surrendered to us,” the messenger said. “They are currently en route to this station in armored transport.”

  “Thank Xannat! We can deal with this—”

  “Contain yourself, Tek.” Nara raised a hand in warning. This isn’t right.

  “But, Warlord, there’s no need to drag this on any further.” Tek leaned forward, jabbing a finger on the desk. “The death of a warlord is the final objective. We can finish this now!”

  “That’s enough.”

  “You know Abberon,” Tek pressed. “Our units will die by the thousands and—”

  “Enough, Lieutenant.” Nara snapped up from her seat, her cold gaze cutting off the soldier’s protest. “I do know Abberon. Which is why we need time to consider the situation. Ensign, come with me.”

  “Yes, Warlord.” The messenger bowed and followed Nara out of the office.

  “But we don’t have that time,” Tek breathed.

  ##3.3##

  Nara parted the vines of her cover, watching the armored truck enter the compound. She had chosen to act with caution and move away from headquarters, the abnormality of the situation flooding her nerves with itching paranoia.

  Her discomfort reflected against her escort, who was examining the scene with similar apprehension. “What are you thinking, Ensign?”

  “It’s hard to say with Abberon.” They shook their head. “Maybe they’re trying to win favor with their units by making a sacrifice. Or setting an example.”

  From the grounds, a squad of infantry awaited the approaching vehicle, rifles raised. The driver walked around and opened the back doors, revealing the passenger with arms restrained. The squad leader ordered the smiling figure to step out of the vehicle.

  The prisoner’s grin leeched into the spirits of the infantry as they staggered down the loading ramp, swaying gently as they struggled to maintain composure. They strained their eyes against the light of day, revealing a sickly pallor to their complexion. But their smile persisted with a profane glow.

  It’s Abberon, all right. Nara fixated on the prisoner’s peculiar behavior, her doubts magnifying tenfold. “They were alone?”

  “Yes, Warlord,” the ensign reported. “Came in from a ground vehicle near another encampment. Appeared unarmed, and the vehicle wasn’t trapped.”

  I shouldn’t be this close. “Get me through to the squad leader. I want them taken far away from headquarters until further notice.”

  “Warlord, look.” The ensign pointed at a figure walking toward the gathering. Lieutenant Tek made their way over to question the commander while eyeing Abberon nonchalantly.

  Nara’s blood froze as the situation rapidly slipped from her hands. “Ensign, get me that leader now! Apprehend Tek immediately!”

  Before they could make the call, Tek snatched Abberon, wrapping an arm around their throat. The warlord didn’t fight back, their vile grin widening as a pistol raised to their temple. Tek ignored the shouts of the disoriented squad, ejecting three bolts of energy through the head of his captive. The light extinguished from the warlord’s eyes, their victory forever etched on stretched lips.

  Tek released the body, letting it fall as they wiped the blood from their face. They were granted no time to assess the weight of their consequences. The ground started to shudder beneath them. A concussive crack ruptured the air, sending violent waves of energy through the scene. Shouts from the squad were drowned out by the roar of an infernal blaze as plumes of wrath lashed across the compound.

  Time slowed around Nara as she witnessed the oncoming fire. Her fist clutched the ensign by the collar. She shoved the soldier down, recoiling as the ravenous force approached. White consumed her vision and detonated into agony as her skull st
ruck the unyielding obstruction of an ancient tree.

  Pain engulfed her abdomen, nerves firing across her flesh. Then nothing. Her strength swiftly drained from her body, her lower half numb. The shouts of her ensign dissolved into a murk of blackness, her mind hiding from chaos.

  ##3.4##

  The camera panned over the wake of the explosion, scanning over churning vehicle fires and the charred remnants of bodies. It zoomed into the forest to capture the painful aftermath of Nara’s predicament, her body pinned to a tree by a shard of another splintering branch. She made a feeble attempt to grab the instrument invading her flesh, her fingers brushing aimlessly over the blood-slicked projectile.

  >>EVENT TERMINATION - ENDGAME PHASE INITIATED

  Garrett’s eyes widened in horror, his mouth agape as the gruesome battle replayed in his mind. “That is a game!?”

  “Well, yes. Loosely.” Prism’s face shrank with concern. “Is everything all right, Ambassador?”

  Jesus Christ. His eyes could not leave the screen. Nara was so young, barely bigger than the children here.

  “You have to consider that everything here is a simulation. But despite this, many steps are taken to ensure the mental health of each participant is protected. Severely injured vets are usually excused from the next war. When a war is over, everyone takes an extended break to spend time in counseling before going back on duty.”

  He barely registered the consolation. “Counseling?”

  “The simulations are programmed to put the user in the most realistic situation, and as a result, certain injuries can create a traumatic impact on the individual. The brain can have a hard time convincing itself it was not injured while outside the gaming confines.”

  “Where do the dead… go?”

  “They are placed in stasis until the end objective of the game has been declared completed.”

  “They’re put in a coma?!?”

  “That’s an oversimplification of it.” Prism frowned, unsure of what to do with the human’s distress. “I am sorry. I have apparently troubled you with this information, Ambassador. I simply thought that—”

  “Ah! Friend! Garrett, was it?” The cheery voice of Bellanar disrupted the discourse. He approached the two swiftly, waving eagerly at Garrett. “I need to ask a favor of you.”

  Prism’s face wrinkled at the intrusion. “Scribe, this is hardly appropriate—”

  “I will just be one minute, Chief.” Bellanar slipped an arm around the distraught Garrett and ushered him to the side. He then leaned down to his level, lowering his voice. “You are the only one I can trust right now.”

  “What’s the matter?” He let his discomfort slip out of his grasp as he watched the excitable man shift his eyes over the room.

  “I am going out, and I cannot tell anyone where. Here.” Bellanar placed a transmitter into Garrett’s hands. “If this flashes, go and get Elam. Tell her it’s Abberon, but from an arm’s length away. She’ll listen.”

  “I don’t think I can—”

  “Please.” The man seized his gaze with pleading eyes. “I know I can trust you with discretion. This is vitally important.”

  Garrett could only nod in compliance.

  “Good! Better not keep your instructor waiting.” He ushered Garrett back to the judgmental glare of Prism. “Until next time, friend!”

  And with that, the curious man dashed off.

  “I think…” Garrett began, his senses numbing from all the excitement. “I have learned enough for one day, Prism. Would you be so kind as to drop me off back home?”

  ##3.5##

  Garrett quietly made his way through the lab, evading the suspicious glances of the duo working. The weight of the transmitter tugged at his pocket, the thoughts of Bellanar’s cryptic message looming over him. He had only spoken with the man briefly back on Arcadia. What was so important that he trusted him with his whereabouts? And why did he have to hide from Nara?

  “Look at that the color of that one’s face.” Syf clicked their tongue, eyeing Garrett with feigned concern. “You’d swear they had seen a war, that shell-shocked dimness in their eyes.”

  Ki’nit uttered a pacifying grunt, disinterested in their companion’s observations.

  Garrett stopped in his tracks as Syf’s scrutiny warmed his shoulder. He turned and pointed at his chest. “Are… are you talking to me?”

  Syf smiled and slithered uncomfortably close, pensively rubbing their chin as they analyzed Garrett’s expression.

  “Syf,” Ki’nit warned from across the room, not looking up from their research notes. “Leave the human alone.”

  “I was going to offer assistance.”

  “They didn’t ask for any.” Ki’nit rubbed their eyes irritably, the errors on the screen giving them grief. “And for the last time this century, tie your hair back. I am tired of throwing out samples because of contamination.”

  “Yes, dear.” Syf tsked, snapping an elastic off their wrist.

  “Do you need something, human?” Ki’nit looked up from their work.

  “No, I… no.” He shook his head firmly. “My name is Garrett, by the way.”

  “I know.”

  Fariem suddenly stormed into the lab, carrying a tray of dirt with a curious specimen of flora. A thick stalky vine coiled out of the soil, coated in a scaled armored carapace. The tip of the plant was decorated with a spiral of leaf shards. From the center of the bud grew a large thick-skinned purple fruit. A sheen of gold highlighted the curvature of the orb in the light. The shiny membrane was embossed with tiny green bumps, each tipped with a single black dot.

  “You two! Quit fraternizing with the human and come help me with this,” Fariem ordered as they placed the tray on the table. “It’s about ripe and needs defusing.”

  Ki’nit produced a pair of metal trays and held them a short distance away from the fruit as Fariem wrapped their arms around, covering it on three sides. They nodded to Syf, who slipped on protective eyewear and gathered a set of needle-like tools from storage.

  Garrett utilized the distraction to slip away to the apartment.

  Syf then took a tool and slipped underneath Fariem’s hand, placing the point at the end of the berry. With a slow twist, they pierced through the flesh of the fruit. As they pushed deeper, the black dots on the skin began to extrude, squelching out into the open to reveal saw-edged black spines dripping with vibrant fuchsia pulp. Syf held their breath as they continued drilling through the fruit, the spines threatening their hands with their menacing barbs.

  “Too much pressure on the left. Try going—”

  SPLORT. Tink-tink-tink-tink. The plant exploded in a squish of juice, the barbs launching from their fruity enclosure, leaving a delightful sweetly sour aroma in their wake.

  Fariem irritably picked spines out of their coat. “Well, can’t save them all, I suppose. There should still be enough inside the thorns to—”

  A deflating whine from behind them abruptly stopped their words. They turned to see Garrett frozen in place, staring at the pulsating projectile invading his shoulder.

  He took a step back as a scorching pain began to lash through his body, an acid wash flicking across his searing skin. The sensation began to engulf his chest, impeding his breath. He reached at the jagged spine, his arm twitching as it fought with his commands.

  “You’ve hit the human.” Fariem dashed to his side, slapping his hand away. “Don’t touch it. Just lie down. Ki’nit, take him…”

  The room began to melt away, green flooding his vision. He couldn’t hear the voices shouting orders in his direction. Hands pressed against his back, and he began to float through the air, a trail of lights dissolving across his view.

  Chapter 4

  ##4.0##

  It took effort to pry his eyes open, but when he finally managed, regret pummeled his senses. Lines of the ceiling tiles twisted around his vision, sending his brain through a nonconsensual coaster ride around the room. He tried to focus on a single point, only to spee
d up the devious force of gravity pulling his organs around.

  Nausea seeped across his guts, and he scrunched his eyes shut to gain relief from the journey. A gentle, meditative slosh of liquid disrupted his focus, and he braved a glance at the source.

  Nara was slumped in a seat next to him, her elbows propped on her knees as she gently rocked a carton in her hands. The clasps around her collar were undone, the flaps of fabric fluttering in time to her listless motion. Crinkled strands of hair jutted out of her braid, emphasizing her preoccupied expression as she scrutinized the ground. She looked like hell.

  “Hey.” He wanted to muster a more appropriate response, but his voice scratched between the sticking walls of his throat.

  Her eyes snapped up to him and the carton froze in her hand. “How do you feel?”

  He rotated his stiff neck from side to side. An audible pop relieved some of the pressure and bestowed him a sense of equilibrium. “All right. Still not sure what happened.”

  “You got hit with a Minefruit thorn. Fariem got the antivenom in you, so you might be a bit dizzy.” Her tone crackled as she explained.

  “Makes sense,” he lied.

  Fariem glided into the room, feigning ignorance to the conversation as they edged toward the monitoring machines next to the bed. They fidgeted with controls and settings, taking notes on a tablet as they nonchalantly shifted their glance to Nara. Their eyes softened slightly as they regarded her, a miniscule glimmer of contrition.

  Nara didn’t react to their admission of guilt and stood up, distractedly brushing out the creases in her uniform. “I’ve got to leave. Listen to Fariem.”

  “Sure.” Garrett watched her shambling gait as she left the room. While it was nice to know she cared enough about his well-being, guilt inevitably seeped through, chastising him for distracting her from the enigmatic turmoil that pointed swords at her.