by T. A. White
Tate felt the tight knot at her center loosen slightly. He was responding. There was still hope.
"What was your sister's favorite color?"
Ryu's eyes thawed as he reached up and touched Tate's cheekbone. "Moss green, like your eyes."
Tate blinked at the tender expression growing on his face.
He reached up to cover her hand on his face. "I'm alright now."
She was slow to let him go, not trusting his quick emotional about-face and half-expecting him to take off as soon as she released him.
A tired smile flashed as if he knew her suspicions and thought them amusing.
"Thank you." He let her see past the iron mask he normally regarded the world from. In its place was the true Ryu. Damaged but not broken. Never broken. He was a survivor. Like Tate.
Perhaps that was why they were drawn to each other. Two polar opposites who managed to survive everything life tried to throw at them, overcoming obstacles most would have found insurmountable. Their survival might not be some pretty tale, but it was theirs. Sometimes it'd be easier to give up, but that wasn't who they were. Both stubborn and hardheaded, with a core of diamond hard strength a mile wide.
"Yes, you are fine," she said in realization. She could see the truth of that staring back at her. Her hands slipped from around his neck to where she patted his chest.
"Let's get out of here," he said.
Relief echoed in Tate's smile as she nodded.
A scream split the air and Tate jumped. Ryu shoved in front of her, his eyes fierce as his presence seemed to swell.
"Wait," Tate shouted, grabbing his arm. "It's Christopher."
He'd fallen to his knees and now pounded his hands against the glass. The skin split, his knuckles bloody as he stared at something in in its depths.
Peter murmured to him, the words indistinct but the cadence calming as he crouched at Christopher's side.
Tate caught a glimpse of a faded Christopher, younger, his expression bright and carefree, and lacking the madness that characterized so many of her interactions with him.
"You fool, turn back," Christopher shouted.
He dug at the glass with his fingernails, trying to break through to the scene below.
The young Christopher followed another man, this one older and with the look of a hawk, his features sharp and slightly cruel. Both men wore the distinctive robes of the guardian.
"You don't need to know everything," Christopher pleaded. "So curious, always so curious. Well, we found out where that led, didn't we? Madness and death and a broken world that we can't un-see no matter how we try."
"Do you recognize the other man?" Tate asked Ryu quietly.
His head tilted in thought. He shook it. "He's not familiar to me."
"Round and round the laughing tree, where it stops no one knows. The monsters have all gotten up again. Through the veil, puncture it good, and back to the land they crawl," Christopher sang, rocking back and forth.
He'd given up clawing the vision out of the glass, partly because Peter now cradled his hands in his.
The vision still played. Christopher walked in unfamiliar tunnels, his gaze fascinated and curious. The scene shifted and Christopher was locked against a wall as a creature, tall and skeletal, and wearing a robe similar to the guardians, pressed a small stone to Christopher's forehead. His eyes rolled back and his body shook as shadows poured from the stone to him, lightning sparking in their depths.
A high-pitched scream—the sound of Christopher's pain—made her cringe.
Tate couldn't take any more of this. She grabbed Christopher's arms and hauled him to his feet.
"Enough!" she shouted. "Snap out of it."
Christopher's eyes were still wide and unseeing as she shook him. It sent unease coursing down Tate's back. There was nothing there. It was like the base personality that formed Christopher had been wiped clean.
"This is not you," she told him in a fierce voice. "That thing didn't take Christopher away. Where is the cocky asshole I hate? Are you really going to let a vision do this to you? I thought you were stronger than that."
The screams of the vision Christopher broke off as if someone had abruptly silenced them, leaving an eerie quiet echoing around them.
The man in her hands blinked and suddenly it was Christopher's mad gaze looking back at her as he cocked his head.
"How interesting, I didn't know you cared so much," he said teasingly.
Tate blinked dumbly at Christopher, letting him smooth his clothes down and step out of her hold.
He looked around with clear eyes and a faintly interested expression. "Not as bad as I feared. I was expecting much worse."
Tate's lips parted. She glared as he threaded his arm with Peter's and gave her an expectant look. "Are we waiting for more monsters to attack or can we get moving?"
She sucked in a harsh breath, anger making her slightly dizzy. This bastard. Was it all an act?
He whistled a jaunty tune as he and Peter sauntered away. It was the same three notes over and over again, similar to the glass statues.
"I cannot tell how much of him is real and how much a facade," Ryu said quietly at her side.
Tate shook her head. She couldn’t either. "I think it's safe to assume it’s a little of both. It’s best to treat everything he says as a potential lie."
Ryu made a sound of agreement. "We shouldn't let them get too far ahead."
Tate was about to respond when a flutter of movement drew her attention. A man watched them, his hands clasped behind his back.
"Jax," she whispered.
The man turned and strode away.
"Wait! Jax!" Tate shouted. She tore away from Ryu and sprinted after the figure, desperate to catch him before he disappeared. Again.
CHAPTER TWELVE
"Grab her. It'll be dangerous if we separate," Peter cried.
A faint curse sounded before the clatter of footsteps as Ryu chased after her.
Strong arms wrapped around Tate's torso, hauling her back.
"Wait. No. I need to follow him." She twisted and strained against Ryu. Every cell of her body yearning to find Jax. He had answers. She just knew it.
"It's a trap." Ryu pulled her tighter to him as she struggled. "Hush, it's not real, ahveena."
Tate's body went slack. Jax was gone. Grief and loss sunk its claws deep as she let Ryu rock her back and forth.
Another missed opportunity. She wondered how many of them she would get before any hope of recapturing her past was gone forever.
The clatter of Peter and Christopher's passage announced their presence long before they came into view.
"What is the purpose of this place?" Tate asked tiredly. She felt drained and it was hard not to curl up on the glass and go to sleep. She didn't know how much of the exhaustion was due to the emotional turmoil of these visions or the very real dehydration all of them were suffering from.
"A mirror, meant to magnify our flaws. Only the strong can survive the monsters built from the darkest parts of themselves," Peter said.
Tate grunted. That was one way to see it.
There was a low chime, the even tone rolling over the glass. A ripple spread out from them in an ever-widening arc, as if a pebble had been dropped into its unfathomable depths.
Christopher sucked in a harsh breath and watched her with horror. "What did you do?"
"I have no idea."
Christopher cursed, some of the fear of earlier on his face.
This time when the vision came it wasn't figures caught in the glass reflection beneath their feet. It was tangible, real, as gray, utilitarian walls formed around them.
Ryu knocked his hand against one, his expression thoughtful.
"What is this place?" Peter asked.
They moved down the long, narrow hallway. Tate touched the walls. Metal.
"I don't know. I've never seen anywhere like it," Ryu said, his voice distracted as he took in their new surroundings.
Christopher was
quiet, his expression pensive as he looked around. "Whose memory is this?"
"Mine." Tate ignored the looks the other two shot her. Her eyes met Ryu's, noting the startlement there.
"Are you sure?" he asked.
Her nod was slow in coming. "It's familiar."
More familiar than it should have been considering her memories were mostly absent.
Christopher rubbed his hands together, avarice in his eyes as he looked around with thinly veiled glee. "Oh, goody. We're about to learn a few secrets."
Tate's lip curled. Briefly she debated the merits of knocking Christopher unconscious. She didn't like the idea of giving him access to the deepest parts of her mind. The very thought made her skin crawl.
The only thing that kept her from acting was the knowledge she'd probably end up having to drag his body through whatever form the test took.
She gave Peter an assessing look. He looked strong. Maybe he could do the brunt of the carrying.
"Why are you all looking at me like that?" Christopher asked.
She and Ryu shared a glance.
"You could always kill him," Ryu told her unhelpfully.
Her look could have flayed flesh from bone. The faintest twitch of his lips let her know she'd amused him again. It's what she lived for. Really.
Before she could respond, a man appeared at the end of the corridor. He was clad in strange clothes and moving at a fast clip toward them.
Tate didn't move, his features coming into focus as he neared.
"Jaxon Kuno," Peter said with hushed reverence.
"There you are. I've been looking everywhere," Jaxon said, a carefree smile on his mouth as he smiled at Tate.
She blinked in surprise. "You can see me?"
His expression didn't shift, his face still in that relaxed smile, his eyes bright and warm. He looked startlingly young, his face untouched by age and lacking the self-possession and hardness he was normally depicted as having. This wasn't the wise and stern teacher he was normally portrayed as. He was softer, untested by time or war.
"Where else would I be?" another voice asked, one that sounded like Tate’s, but harsher. And grumpier.
"Don't be like that. Just because you're not first on the ground doesn't mean you won't get your turn," he said, his gaze still aimed in Tate's direction.
There was a sigh and then a disturbingly solid Tate stepped forward.
"I should be first. I have the experience and I've read through all the data on the planet," ghost Tate said, a sullen frown on her face.
She was dressed similarly to Jax. It was a uniform of some kind, one Tate sensed was more casual than what they normally wore; loose pants and long thin shirts. The colors were somber and dour, but the cut crisp and clean. They looked efficient, like soldiers during training.
There were sweat stains on ghost Tate's shirt to support that claim.
"All that is true, as is the fact you told the admiral to go fuck himself when he tried to order the squad into Harding's Corridor with no backup scheduled," Jax pointed out in a mild voice. "Anyone else would have been court martialed."
Ghost Tate's mouth tilted up in a wicked grin as she gave him a sly look. "Worth every second of the corrective training."
Jax snorted, giving her an answering look. "Hells yeah, it was."
Ghost Tate and he took off at a slow jog. "You think this place is going to be the answer to their prayers?"
Jaxon lifted one shoulder. "The scientists certainly seem excited enough. They said they've never seen anything like it."
"I can't believe we've been rerouted from the war effort for a couple of stray blips on a screen," ghost Tate muttered.
"Admit it. You're interested as well," Jaxon teased. "The implications if the data is right, could change everything we thought we knew. They're calling it the magic particle. If we can harness it, the potential is limitless."
"And to do that we're going to set off a bunch of bombs in the hopes of ripping the hole in space and time wider. Seems like a brilliant idea to me," ghost Tate said, rolling her eyes.
"Pessimist."
"Baseless optimist," ghost Tate threw back.
Before he could say anything more, she sprinted forward, leaving him several steps behind.
"Cheater," he called, sprinting after her.
"Perception is everything," she returned.
A light flashed, bathing the corridor in red as Tate and Jaxon slowed and looked up. A disembodied voice echoed throughout the corridor. "Unknown forces spotted. Report to your post immediately."
The two shared a grim look, sprinting through the scene as if it was no more substantial than tissue paper.
This time they stood in a forest, trees all around them and stars peeking through their branches. Several figures moved quietly through the forest, clad in strange garb with odd helmets on their heads.
"I remember this," Tate said, almost to herself. Her head pounded, her mind spinning as new knowledge settled into place as if it had never been missing. "This is when everything changed."
Peter stepped closer to one of the figures and bent to look up at the helmets covering their faces—the upper half of which was covered by some type of black, opaque glass. "How do they see?"
They carried strange weapons, their bodies alert as they moved silently, careful not to make a sound.
"No sign of the enemy," someone said softly.
"Could have been one of the rookies getting a little paranoid. Might have seen something and panicked," another said.
"Quiet." Ghost Tate's voice cut through the chatter. "We're on potentially hostile ground. Enough chitchat."
A chorus of “yes, sirs” answered her.
"Look at that, a Tate who inspires obedience," Ryu murmured. "It's too bad that trait didn't survive. Maybe your two friends would get into less trouble."
"Somehow I doubt anyone could instill caution in those two," Tate said.
Their surroundings flew by and suddenly they were standing on the edge of a cliff looking out over an ocean as ghost Tate and her soldiers stepped out of the tree line.
"Was there supposed to be a cliff here?" a voice asked.
"No, there wasn't," ghost Tate said in a grim voice.
"It could be interference messing with our instruments," Jax said, taking something from his side and holding it up.
"Or maybe someone up there doesn't know how to do their job," another person muttered.
One of the figures reached up and removed their helmet. Ghost Tate's fierce gaze took in the ocean. Her hair was pulled back into a neat braid and her outfit was made of a material that shifted and shimmered, changing color depending on her surroundings.
"Perfect camouflage," Christopher said, circling them.
Ghost Tate opened her mouth, but was interrupted by a high-pitched buzz. "Take cover."
The soldiers shifted, leaping into motion as they ducked the objects darting out of the woods. They looked like oversized bees, but about one hundred times too large.
"What are those?" someone shouted.
"I don't know, but if they came from the enemy, they're unlikely to be friendly," another person returned.
"Take them down!" ghost Tate shouted.
"Thought you'd never ask," someone said. A figure found their feet, drawing their arm back as if they were throwing a ball. On the forward throw, a long, thin piece of silver metal flashed out, snaking through the air and piercing half of the bees in an instant. It shifted through the air as if it was sentient, searching out and destroying the enemy.
"Jax, get on the line to overwatch. Tell them we need an extraction," ghost Tate shouted.
She leapt out of her hiding spot, a long object held to her shoulder. She fired it three times, missing the bees every single time. The projectiles from the weapon embedded in different trees.
"Take cover," she screamed.
As one, everyone hit the ground as the world screeched. The bees exploded as the device ghost Tate had fired ramped up the
noise further, then a dark red light spread from it in a sheet.
As the bees rained down in pieces, ghost Tate and her team pushed themselves to their feet.
"Jax, how is that extraction coming?" ghost Tate asked.
He lifted his head and shook it. "No one's answering."
"Could the signal be blocked?" a woman asked.
Jax hesitated before saying, "It's not that. My systems show the signal is connecting but there's nothing coming through on their end."
"Keep trying. Either way, we can't stay here. We're trapped with these cliffs at our back," ghost Tate ordered.
Time shifted and the scene collapsed in on itself.
Jax looked up, horror on his face. "Tate, the Aurelia's coming down."
"What?" Confusion chased across ghost Tate's face.
"She's falling," he said.
"That's impossible," Suz said. Tate remembered her face and name from her nightmares.
A loud thunderclap echoed. Above them, the sky turned orange and black, thousands of burning meteors falling toward the ground.
Ghost Tate's team found their feet.
"Saint's preserve us," one whispered.
A bigger meteor, its mammoth body eclipsing the rest as it hurtled downward, broke through the clouds.
"We're right in the blast radius," Jax said, busy with a wide screen on his lap.
"Head back to the cave," ghost Tate ordered.
The rest didn't hesitate, racing along the ground and away from the cliffs.
Jax caught her arm. "It won't matter. It'll hit the ground with enough force to vaporize everything in a hundred-mile radius."
"We survive until the very last moment," ghost Tate told him, one hand coming up to cup his cheek. "It’s always darkest before the dawn."
They didn't hear his response, the scene fading as a new one took its place.
"Are these really your memories?" Peter asked, looking around the new scene they'd fallen into with trepidation.
Tate didn't answer, too busy examining this new setting. This place was familiar. She'd seen it many times in her nightmares.
"The tunnels," Ryu said, crouching next to an overturned table as lights flickered on and off overhead.
"How can you be sure?" Peter asked. "They don't look like any of the ones I've seen."
