by J J Marshall
“Hanna, you’re special.”
“I’m aware,” she said curtly. “I’ve known that I was special for a while now. I just…don’t know how to explain it to others. I’m a freak.”
“I can assure you, you’re not a freak. Are you familiar with lore or legends?” he asked. Hanna thought for a moment, feeling her face scrunch while she sifted through her mind and finally shook her head.
“Errm, no. I don’t believe so.” Orian shifted his attention, looking off into the distance as a large white screen descended from the ceiling in front of the two of them.
“Greetings to you both,” Kyrina rang from the screen interrupting the conversation.
“Hanna, I believe my son was about to disclose some very confidential information to you.” Hanna nodded but remained silent, biting at the inside of her cheek in anticipation. Copper flooded her tongue as blood poured into her mouth, but she paid it no mind, staring at the screen. “Great. So, Hanna, picking up where my son left off, you are very special, very special indeed. You’re something we keepers call a “Forsaken” also known as Nephilim, meaning that you are part human and part angel. You may have noticed you’re different. No?” Kyrina asked. Diverting her eyes over to Orian, who seized her greedy hands from her plate and squeezed between both of his. Hanna looked back at the screen.
“I get visions of things that are about to happen. I saw the plague coming, all the blood and hate and smoke. I also dreamt about Orian—” Orian held his hand up, cutting Hanna off.
“It wasn’t a dream Hanna, you jumped between realms, spiritual and physical. You’re a realm walker.”
“Ahh so indeed she is,” Kyrina continued. “You may have also noticed that Mark on your arm growing, is it painful anymore?” Hanna shook her head.
“Not anymore. I do feel better, stronger even.” Kyrina’s laughter erupted from the screen, causing both Hanna and Orian to jump. Her heart beat like a drum against her ribcage as she focused on steadying her nerves.
“Hanna, I believe you are the key to saving your race. To restoring it. You alone can save this world.”
What the—
How the—
“How the hell am I, one person, supposed to save an entire race?” Hanna stammered out.
“You are not alone. You have me and I will be by your side each step of the way. But we can’t fix the plague without you. We can’t win the war I told you about, without you. You are the key Hanna. So please, will you help us save the human race?” he asked.
“Okay, but first I want you to tell me about my brother. You said that he was safe. Where is he?”
“Adrian is fine. Get yourself ready my dear and we will meet in less than an hour to discuss more details,” Kyrina chirped before the screen went black and ascended back into the ceiling. Hanna groaned as she plopped back into the soft pillow top of the bed, covering her face with a pillow. A familiar plop motioned next to her and for a moment, everything was calm.
******
Twenty-Nine
Karsten
Karsten had made a deal with the Fallen, becoming something much darker than he ever dreamed of, and yet nothing could fill the void Henry’s death had left. Karsten poured his hatred of his father and brother into it, trying to feel full, but nothing would satisfy his hunger other than their deaths. Orian had been issued a death warrant by King Irisi himself, perfectly playing into Karsten’s deck of cards. No, his father would not be killing Orian, that death would come from his own hand. But first, he had to find the fucker.
Find Mikasa. She had always been close with his younger brother, having a heart on for him, perhaps she would know where he was. Karsten perked from his sitting chair, scratching his scalp in thought with one hand while the other thrummed fingers against the plush red-crushed velvet of his arm chair. The fire before him, sizzled and cracked as he finished another glass of amber liquid, grimacing as is burned its way down his throat. He threw the glass, shattering it against the mantle and with hooded eyes as the shards glittered on the floor before him. He donned a deep red robe to protect him from the night’s chilled air, as he strolled the halls towards the castle library.
Mikasa sat in the dimly lit library sprawled over a book. She jumped at the sound of Karsten’s heavy footsteps and lowered her glasses onto the dark stained table, before standing.
“Prince Vanderwall,” she chirped, bowing her head low. “How may I be of some assistance?” Karsten stepped forward, closing space between them as his hot breath hit her face, only inches away.
“Take me to Earth. Help me find my brother,” he spat. He smiled, watching the young librarian flinch. “Help me track that traitorous bastard and bring him back here, king’s orders.” His words surprised the girl as she slowly nodded, letting out a sigh.
“As you wish,” she said, turning away from the prince. “Follow me. We must start the ritual to lower the veil.”
*
Earth was in chaos. The streets soaked in blood and riddled with bodies. The stench of sulfur saturated the air and something within Karsten leapt with joy. Virus X was a success, eliminating the humans while he tended to other matters. Standing back in Mikasa’s shop, Karsten watched as the Afflicted roamed the streets, tearing each other limb from bloody limb. He beamed from ear to ear. Perfection. Staring out the shop window with his arms behind his back, Karsten imagined dismembering his brother, wondering how sadistically satisfying it would be, when a tap from Mikasa jolted him away from such joyous thoughts.
“Have you located my brother?” he growled.
“I have general. He’s in the Renegade Mansion. We will have to plan to break in, kill as many Renegades as possible and get the traitor with the Forsaken. She will be the key to securing our victory. She will ensure our survival and the human demise.” Karsten nodded as he continued to look out the window, watching as dusk quietly approached.
“Good, then let’s get started.”
*
Crimson and scarlet, two colors he wanted to watch seep through his fingers as he slit the throats of as many Renegades, he could get his hands on. Karsten had to admit that Mikasa had come in handy, and for that he would let her live. He was excited at the thought of all the blood; he felt as if a thick black covering filtered his vision. His eyes had changed from their murky form into pure darkness. Would this be his life now? Would he have to kill to get off?
He knew where the traitorous bastard was now and he would strike. Soon. You will die Orian. The most gruesome death and I will watch until you choke out your last breath.
Karsten’s cheeks perked as he trudged towards the Throne Room. He would need an army if he was ever going to seize Orian from the Renegades. He quickened his pace, throwing open the double doors, watching as his father’s steely eyes snapped to him. Irisi gathered to his feet, sweeping his cape behind him and descended the steps towards Karsten.
“Father,” Karsten bowed, dipping his head low in respect. I’ll slit your throat, too, Old Man. “I have located Orian and the Forsaken brat.”
“Then why are you in my Throne Room and not out capturing your brother?” Irisi asked nonchalantly, as he inspected his fingernails. Karsten clenched his fist, digging his nails into his palm. He would kill his father this second if he didn’t need his army. But that would cost him his life and his throne, two things he would not throw away. He sucked in a breath, trying to control his rage, trying to fight the urge to rip his father’s windpipe from his throat as the pain in his palm increased, breaking the skin. Scarlet drops oozed from his palm, dripping onto the flooring below. His father’s eyes glimpsed his hand, smiling as he met Karsten’s own enraged gaze.
“I need an army,” Karsten gritted out between clenched teeth.
“You have my army on your side. Do whatever you must to bring my son back, alive.”
Karsten nodded, though his father would be lucky if Orian came back in one piece, let alone alive. He dipped his head again, reverting his eyes down towards the floor and acted
like the contrite son he was far from being.
“Thank you, Father,” he said as he turned on his heel and walking briskly towards the training center. Mikasa would be close by, and then, together, they would lower the veil once more and storm earth with an army in their wake.
******
Thirty
Hanna
Hanna sat on the edge of her bed, rocking back and forth as the seconds ticked slowly into minutes. She whistled a tune hoping to distract her mind from its incessant racing, to no avail. Pushing from her bed, she landed on her feet with a small thump. Her footsteps matched her thoughts into a brisk pace as she continually digested the information Chancellor Vanderwall had given her. She was part angel…but how? How was it she was something that didn’t exist? If she was something extinct, then how did she become the last of the Forsaken? She stopped, skidding on her heels as another thought nearly crippled her. She hadn’t had a vision since meeting Orian. No thrumming pain in her temples, no cloudy vision, no urge to vomit the contents of her stomach onto the floor. It was as if his presence was a signal blocker to the visions. Or was it that there was no longer a future to see? No, she thought. That can’t be it.
Silently, she wished, no begged, for Orian to come see her. She was interested in the mysterious boy, wanted to know more about him …and herself. She gulped as a lump grew in her throat, threatening to suffocate the air from her, as she struggled to swallow.
“Orian,” she whispered, hoping that somehow, he would materialize in front of her.
“Yes?”
Hanna turned, eyes wide looking about the room, laughing when she realized he was in the doorway. He leaned lazily against the oak door frame with his hands plunged into the pockets of his sagging, torn blue jeans. His chest was bare, etched in dark knotted tattoos like the one that had formed on her forearm. Droplets of water clung to his sandy blond locks as he pushed them out of his sapphire eyes. Blood rushed into Hanna’s cheeks, making them hot to the touch. He was so…beautiful.
“Take a picture. It will last longer,” he smirked. Hanna shook her head, tearing her eyes away from his form.
“What?”
“You like what you see?” he asked smugly. She turned, refusing to give Orian and answer. She did like what she saw. But it wouldn’t be wise to keep down this path, at least not until she knew and understood what she could do, or rather, what she was.
“Listen, just because you saved my life doesn’t mean that I suddenly trust you. And just because you’re attractive doesn’t mean I’m—”
The wall behind Hanna opened up, exposing a large projector-like screen with Chancellor Vanderwall staring at the both of them. Hanna jumped, flushing once more.
“Interrupting?” the Chancellor asked.
“A bit,” Orian replied, the slight sound of irritation laced his voice.
“Well that’s a shame. Anyways, Hanna, I have a theory about your blood. Of course, I won’t know anything unless you allow me to study it. But I believe that your blood could save mankind, if not, give us answers as to how a forsaken came to be thousands of years after extinction.”
“So, what, you want me to willingly hand over my blood because you have some hunch about my species? How do I know you won’t try to create more of me? How do I know you won’t lock me away and continue to run tests on me? You’re asking me to give up my free will. I don’t know you. How can I trust that you won’t misuse and abuse me?”
“She has a point,” Orian stated. “We don’t know you or the Renegades. All that we know of you and this organization is what you have fed us. How do we know you won’t be like my father? Afterall, you have already kidnapped and drugged us against our will.” Hurt crossed the chancellor’s impeccable features before she turned back into her stony self.
“You don’t know. But I am asking for your trust. Right now, the entire human race will perish if we sit back and do nothing. They already are. You’ve seen what it’s like out there. Let us do something. Help us and restore the earth back to normal. Surely, you have family out there, Hanna. They will die if we do nothing. The whole lot of them. Help us. Join our cause so we can help you.” Hanna hadn’t thought about her mother. She remembered Adrian, how adamant he had been to let her go. He’d insisted upon it, and now he could be dead. They could both already be dead and there wasn’t a damn thing she could do about it, unless she joined the cause. Kyrina was right. They had to do something. Silently, reluctantly, Hanna nodded.
“Okay, you may have my blood. I will join your cause. Now where is my brother like you promised me?” The woman grew silent and something within Hanna feared for the worse. Was Adrian dead? Where was he?
“We are still looking for him, Hanna. But in the meantime, we will start studies for a cure. Stay inside the mansion. We have full amenities, but you are our first priority.” The screen in front of them cut to black as Hanna turned. Her ears rang and once more she was alone with Orian, half naked in her room.
******
Thirty-One
Karsten
Karsten was giddy, his pulse thrummed with excitement as his army crossed the lowered veil. He was so close. Orian would die today and the thought pleased him. His father had granted full access to the army, and with that, Karsten had taken half. The Consortium ranks flanked his sides with him as General. Henry would be avenged. As the last of the soldiers crossed the veil, Karsten stopped, hollering at his ranks to follow suit as he dug his talon-like nail across his arm, dripping bits of his tainted blood into the veil. Mikasa began to chant and the familiar whoosh of air rushed from his lungs, suffocating him as he watched the veil shimmer back into place. He summoned his light, now glimmering a dark purple, watching as it engulfed his hands and forearms. There was no more pain for Henry. Only desire of revenge. Death. He turned to face Mikasa, watching as fear struck her figure and she began to tremble in his presence.
Good. She extended one shaking finger as she sputtered for words to say.
“Y-your eyes, General. Fallen Ranks? Don’t show your full potential to the Keepers. They may bow to you in fear, but they will never respect you.” What did he care if they respected him? He was general, for fucks sake and they would either listen to him or die a slow and painful death.
“Worry about finding my brother and less about me,” Karsten snapped. Stupid girl. Slowly, Mikasa nodded, breathing slowly to calm her quaking body. She fumbled with a small gadget around her wrist as Karsten watched. It blinked a bright red as Mikasa yelped, causing Karsten to flinch.
“Don’t fucking do that!” he hissed, embarrassed to show weakness in front of his ranks.
“Sorry, General!” Mikasa chirped. “The tracker I placed on the forsaken is ready! It works! I didn’t think it would, but it does! Amazing! Brilliant!” she continued to shout animatedly. “Where ever the Forsaken is, your brother will be right behind!”
“Fantastic. Good work. Ranks!” Karsten shouted, watching as each member of the Consortium straightened their backs, hands to the side like good little soldiers. “Together, we will destroy this planet. Make the humans perish and Renegades bend the knee. Kill anyone that crosses your path. Man, woman or child. I do not want any Renegade scum making it out of that mansion alive. I will handle my brother.”
“Yes, General,” the ranks shouted.
“Onward March!”
*
The sun dipped low in the sky, spewing shards of crimson and gold across the clouds as the Consortium stopped in front of a large red brick mansion with white pillars. Bodies lay strewn across the yards as Karsten pulled his hand back from a male, thirty in age, grasping his heart in his hands. Blood poured down his arm, staining his gray general’s uniform as black consumed his eyes. So much bloodshed, so many dead humans. He smiled. His brother was behind those doors. So close. He turned his gaze down to the warm, still heart in his hand and raised it to his lips. His tongue licked the crimson blood from the heart before tearing into it with his teeth. He chewed it, paying no mind
to the foul taste and swallowed before throwing it into the dirt. He raised his leg, smashing his foot down onto the heart as he turned to look at his ranks. Blood trickled from his lips and chin as he smiled at them.
“Kill them all.”
******
Thirty-Two
Orian
Screams rang in the halls of the mansion as Orian stood before Hanna. His body tensed as he focused on listening to the sounds outside the room. He held a hand up, halting Hanna as the sound of glass shattering, sounded outside her room. He moved, scooping Hanna into his arms, and raced into the bathroom, closing the door behind him. Darkness descended onto them as he placed Hanna into the tub. He pulled his hand over top Hanna’s mouth, moving his mouth close to her ear.
“Stay quiet and listen to me. There are bad people after me, and you. Stay hidden. If they get me, don’t come for me. Neither of us will get out of here alive, otherwise. You understand, that don’t you?” Hanna nodded, her eyes wide with fear as footsteps sounded outside the bathroom door. “There was never a chance for me,” Orian continued, “There never will be. But you have a choice, Hanna. No matter what you hear, don’t come out. Fight to save mankind and yourself. You are my light in the dark. Everything I have ever done has been to protect you. Stay low and be quiet.”
The door groaned and cracked as dust sprayed the air, splaying light through the entryway. Three figures entered bathed in lightning. Orian froze and his eyes widened in shock. A familiar face pushed through the three, smiling as he approached Orian.
Karsten.
“Hello, brother,” Karsten spat, “Any last words?” he asked, his voice hollow and colder than ice. Orian opened his mouth.
“Yes. Tell Father I will find him. I will kill him, and I will take the throne.” Karsten laughed a hollow laugh and raised his hands, summoning purple sparks into his palms. Thrusting forward, he pushed as blazing purple lightning streamed directly into Orian’s chest. His eyes widened from shock as pain engulfed his entire body. He looked at his brother’s cold dead eyes as everything faded into black.
