by Jade Alters
I wake up on my side. I feel from the warmth leaking through the side of my tent that it’s morning, but I don’t dare open my eyes. What if he’s there? Laying in the grass. Staring at me, when he can’t really stare anymore. He can’t do anything. My eyelids flutter in a daring check. No body. Just the inside of my tent, for the third day in a row. Yet I still can’t shake the feeling that he’ll be there.
We couldn’t even bury him. The Council hardly had enough time to get the rest of us out of the dragonsfire. They couldn’t afford to go back for Hoster. His spirit… his body… I roll back over and clamp my eyes shut. If someone slips food under my tent flap again, maybe I’ll eat it this time, but I’m not leaving. I’m not going out into that camp that expects so much of us, of me, when I couldn’t… I couldn’t even…
“Hey.” My tent flap opens. I jerk upright, lips poised to bark. If it had been anyone else in the doorway, I would have. But my anger is overpowered by my curiosity, when he steps inside. “Come on,” says Darius.
“Come on - where?” I shrink back from his reaching hand. He chews his lip, eyes wandering. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him plan his next words so carefully.
“The Council and the Kyrie are having their big meeting. They’re going to hear whatever’s in those books,” Darius tells me.
“I’m not going,” I tell him. My tone is concrete, absolute. Darius nods, slowly at first. Then, I see in his eyes, that he thinks of something.
“Course you’re not. Who needs to listen to stuck-up assholes and bags of bones?” Darius tries, a bit too hard. I almost laugh as his hand wanders behind his head. “My version will be much more palatable.” He points to his ear to signify what he means. “Plus, the view.”
“Oh yeah?” I say. My attempts at flirting come out weak, but I manage to tease, “Where we going?”
“I mean… the view,” Darius says, unveiling that he does, in fact, mean himself. He does a little body-worm movement that actually pulls a snort out of me.
“What did you do with Darius?” I snort. He answers by lowering his hand closer to mine. I take a deep breath to permit myself the feeling. The support. Even if I couldn’t… I try to shake off the thought. We’ve got an important meeting to eavesdrop on.
Emery,
Foothills, Mount Shasta Wilderness
In one way or another, he wasn’t kidding about the view. Darius carries me on his zooming back, high into the foothills of the Mount Shasta Wilderness. We perch on the top of a natural rock wall that juts above the misty pines. When the wind blows a hole in the fog, we squint at the huge meeting tent and the tiny ants gathered there to discuss the fate of the supernatural world. Darius turns his head from one side to the other. I watch it twitch with the input of sound across the hills.
“Are… you going to tell me what they’re saying?” I ask after a few minutes.
“I told you we came for the view,” Darius winks. I tilt my head down to eye him from the top of my sockets. Finally, he surrenders, so it seems. He cups a hand over his ear to listen. “No use. I can’t hear anything over Reynold’s chewing. He must be eating steak or something-”
“Would you stop it?” I laugh. The sound sets off a familiar chime in my brain. It hardly feels right, yet it’s a sort of relief. I wasn’t sure when I’d ever, or if I’d ever make that sound again. Then Darius’ forehead scrunches a little.
“Your wrinkled future says…” Darius tells me. Ori, I realize with a smirk. “The books describe a ritual. Instructions. With some more time and resources, namely a huge celestial event… they think those descended from the Origas could… holy shit, reunite the Realms in their original form, temporarily.”
“Why would we want to…” I silence myself when Darius holds up a finger.
“That way, we could shepherd the Gray Fiends back where they belong without having to cram them all through a Runic Gate,” he says. He leans in to listen harder. I scoot over beside him. My head lays down on his shoulder to let the vibration of his voice wash over me. To listen to it all like it’s someone else’s story. His voice rattles the inside of my ribs, strong enough that he doesn’t have to tell me, it’s alright. “Until then, the books say the best way to fight the Fiends is… to play their own game.”
“What does that mean?” I ask, as my eyes drift shut. Despite spending three solid days in my tent, I’ve hardly slept.
“Hold on, they’re getting distracted. Talking about the other types of Fiends now... Red Fiends, which were like Dragons… Dark Fiends like Demons, and Silver Fiends… old-timey Astrals, I guess? Gross. Looks like the Origas split the original Realm because all of these Fiends used sapiens to reproduce. The Gray Fiends bite, the others lay eggs in them, possess them, or… assimilate into their bodies? Alright, that’s a lot to take in. Wait - they’re back on how to fight them.” I hear Darius’ voice as if through a pillow, muffled and far away. “The Origas used to shapeshift into Fiends themselves. Only thing that can really keep up with them is them, I guess.”
“Makes sense…” I yawn. I’m just about to let go, to drift off, when Darius’ hypnotic voice fades away. The lack of it stirs me just a bit. “What is it? What are they saying now?” I ask.
“They’re… talking about the Lotus. They’re in the books,” Darius says. My head lifts from his shoulder, whether or not I will it to. Darius takes my hand in his, gripping tight to anchor me to the present. He alone keeps me from slipping back to the second my chest hit the grass. The second I saw that X hit Hoster’s chest.
“What are they saying?” I ask. Darius eyes me, silent. “Come on,” I tell him, gulping, “I… I want to hear it.”
Rock,
Truce Camp, Mount Shasta Wilderness
Just when I think it can’t get any worse. When I think I can’t get any angrier at those robed pricks. I mean, sure, Hoster and I weren’t best friends but… I can’t get it out of my head. He was there. He was always there, in one way or another. Right next to me, whether or not he had any business being there. Three days ago, someone kneeled him down literally right next to me. I felt him leave. A little pulse of force, right before his spirit jumped out of him. Then he was gone.
“The man you called Heren and his colleagues,” says Sasoen. “They’re human.”
“That can’t be right!” I scream. After everything, this I can’t stand. The Council, the Kyrie, this senile trio - none of them saw what happened! They didn’t see how easily Heren and his cohorts took us out. How readily they organized to put us down… how they succeeded with one of us.
“We understand your rage, Stonebreak,” Ori’s voice carries out over the round table. “But we are telling you only what we’ve found in the knowledge you worked so hard to attain.” The sound of my given name staunches the fire inside me, at least enough to contain another outburst. For now.
“According to the tomes, the Lotus was an organization founded by the Origas and the original sapiens. Together. This group was imparted dangerous knowledge. Intricate details of all the Origas’ capabilities and weaknesses. Both before and after their power was split into three separate bloodlines. They were gifted this knowledge with the charge of a single duty. Protect the balance between the supernatural and the other sapiens, though we now call them Normal Humans, or Normans. It seems that, with the advent of new technology… the Lotus has used its arcane knowledge to augment its arsenal against us.” Dorian raises a hand to speak, which Sasoen grants with a nod.
“So… this group is combining magical knowledge and current technology for combat - specifically against us?” The word us is charged with a hundred different emotions. He means all of us. The Academy. The Kyrie. The supernatural.
“Based on the ASTF’s reports and what we’ve read… yes,” says Ori. “That… concludes what we’ve learned.” A rest precedes the eruption of more noise than any of us know how to sort through. Every member of the Council and Kyrie leaders posits what we should do next.
“We have to deal with the Fiends
first,” Lucidous announces.
“The Lotus will seize the opportunity to strike!” Sorceress Lily counters. “We need to perform the ritual.”
“This knowledge has given us nothing.” Horace throws up his hands in frustration. It’s too much. The chaos, the worry. It’s all about the future. Like one or our own wasn’t just slaughtered in a field half a mile away. I slide my chair out to leave.
“Stonebreak,” calls out Sasoen. The low frequency of his voice quiets a few others, which catches the attention of others still. Debates fizzle out all around me while my face reddens. “Have you something to say?”
“No,” I tell him honestly. “Something to do.”
“What, son? In this time of strife?” asks Father. His voice doubles the weight of everyone else’s glare. But, I suck down a deep breath and remember Sasoen’s words, back in the village. We’re all scared.
“I’m going to go train to do what it says in these books. The books… my friend died to get here. I’m going to become a Fiend,” I tell him and the whole gathering. My eyes sweep the crowd, until finally they rest on Helena. I remember the way the Core Lines stood up around her, at last. The way she was who she really was, long before anyone rallied to it. How that turned out to be her greatest strength. That guides my eyes towards another from my tribe. One I once feared to speak to at all, in front of others. “River… I need your help.”
“M-me?” the girl stammers.
“Last year, you shapeshifted into a Dragon. No one’s been able to do that before,” I tell her, this time with all the praise it deserves. “During the Origas trials… I struggled to shift outside the traditional forms we teach in the village. If I’m… if any of us are going to break the mold and become something else, we’ll need you.” River sits plastered to the chair for a few more seconds. But, when at last her heart tells her brain what she’s heard is true, she rises on shaky legs. She follows me to the edge of the tent.
“No matter who comes for us first… it would be a valuable defense to have at our disposal,” Bart figures aloud. Several other voices rumble around in agreement.
“Son,” Chief Botan of the Ahwahneechee Tribe calls out to me just before River and I can leave. I freeze to look back at him over my shoulder. I expect disappointment in his eyes to say the least. What I find is anything but. “Take a few more of our best with you.”
“Yes, sir,” I nod. River and I leave the meeting.
Dawn
Rock,
Truce Camp, Mount Shasta Wilderness
I can’t believe this turnout. River and I started with five students, the best, at Father’s behest. That was three weeks ago. Now, every morning at dawn, row after row of Ahwahneechee Shifters line up to learn the art of betraying centuries of tradition. They study River’s and my movements and techniques, as we break the mold of traditional form. We start with the advanced basics, for those new to the gatherings.
“Human shield?” River asks me, subtly. I nod to confirm.
“We’ll start with inanimate objects. In the absence of weapons and tools, we can become whatever is needed,” I call out over the crowd. Familiar faces from the village, old and young, look up at me with eager, shining eyes. The only way to process it is to go on with my speech, and take regular glimpses to Helena, perched on a crate in the back. One morning after the next, she’s there to smile and wave me on when I’m not sure what to say next, or how to approach a lesson. She did, after all, inspire both of my form-breaking shifts. “These items are familiar to us, so it’s a good start to shifting outside the box.”
“Try a sword, or shield, first,” River follows up in perfect synchronicity. “They’re easy to imagine. Keep it simple at first. It’s going to feel weird. We’re used to forming body structures. Organs. Things similar to us. Now we need to shed those constraints to become something very different. Those of you who are new will see what we mean when we move to the more advanced class.” I move to the front of the group, arms crossed to thunder my best Chief’s voice across the grasslands outside the Truce Camp.
“Whether it’s the Lotus or the Fiends that get here first… we need this power. Power that we’ve had all along, but were too afraid to use.” Then, my voice drops low. So low that those in the back shuffle closer just to hear it. “See yourself for what you are. Formless matter. In control. You can be anything.”
With this, I pass the reins over to River. She’s better at explaining the basics. I’ll come back in for the later class, when the sun is fully over the mountain ridge, to work with those who have been with us from the beginning on their Gray Fiend transformations. For now, I head over to the crate in the back.
“You’re getting better at this, Chief,” Helena smiles.
I notice Helena as if for the first time, though she’s been there all along. She was there at countless Ahwahneechee diplomacy dinners. She was there at the Heritage Ball. She stood right there beside me in the Totem Tower, and she’s here now. I had my eyes fixed so steadily on the mystery of a woman that is Emery Dalshak, I overlooked a sparkling pearl right beside her. The orange-red dawn bounces off of her glossy lips and eyes like such precious gems. If I wasn’t in leader mode, I might let it take my every last breath away.
“Better? I wasn’t good at it before?” I tease her. Helena chews on her lip, as if thinking it over.
“More like… it seemed like a pain in your ass before. Something you had to do. You’re growing into it. Making it your own,” Helena tells me. The words come softly through her smirk, so painfully genuine, the only thing I can think to do is deflect.
“Nice save,” I smile. We both chuckle, even though we both know she’s right. “It’s not like I have a choice. Plus, River does most of the work. I mean the way she shifts…” But, the further I get from accepting her words, the more her smile fades. The further Helena’s eyes drop towards the ground. I stop it by seizing her hand. She straightens up at the shock of my touch. “Hey. Thank you.”
“Fo-for what?” Helena blurts out.
“If I’ve gotten any better at anything… it’s because of you. You tried to save me in the Totem Tower, and I only became a shield because… I wanted to do the same for you. And then the Forgotten City, that was you again. I wanted to save you. Even if you can save yourself nine times out of ten,” I add, when I remember the ferocity of Helena’s dual-natured spells.
“Mm, look at my track record. Used as a battery, twice. But… everyone has that tenth time, eventually,” Helena smiles. She turns her head out to the dawn, creeping over the Mount Shasta Wilderness. I feel her hand loosen inside of mine. The softest fingers I’ve ever felt lace between my own. “I’m glad you were there when it happened.” She turns her face towards mine. The slightest pull on my hand is all it takes for her to reel me in. I lean in, eyelids open just enough to find her lips.
“They’re here!” If I hadn’t heard it screech across the plains, I wouldn’t have believed two words could pull us apart so quickly. The space between our lips multiplies by the amount of steps I stammer backwards.
“Which?” I ask, but the messenger has already moved on to spread the message wider. “Damnit, come on,” I nod to River, then reach out to Helena again. She grabs onto me even faster.
Emery,
Truce Camp, Mount Shasta Wilderness
The tip of my illusory blade trembles inches away from Heren’s throat. He has his hood up again, but I hardly need to see more than those flat, thin lips to recognize him. I could never forget any part of that hideously perfect face. The killer I somehow hate all the more for his handsomeness. He stands, unsettlingly comfortable at the edge of my long, glassy shard, outside the main thoroughfare of the Truce Camp. So far, he seems alone. Darius stands poised to launch any second from my side. From the chaos around us, I imagine others have noticed him. The Council and the Kyrie will be here in seconds. I only need to stall him that long. I only need to hold onto my blade like I’m not scared out of my wits.
“Why the ho
od? Afraid to let your hair down?” It takes all I have not to sound like a terrified child. Every other word is accompanied by a sharp, short jab of my blade.
“You can put that down,” Heren invites with an infuriating calm. He lifts the gloved back of his hand to the outside of my trick sword. My eyes bulge at the spot of contact. He nudges my blade away from him, and I let him. For about an inch. Then my senses re-coil around my warm core of rage. I put the blade forward to slice the back of his glove. A single ruby droplet plunks in the grass. Heren doesn’t flinch. He just pulls his hand back. “Fine. I’ve only come to deliver something.”
“Why would we want a fucking thing from you?” Darius lashes out the very thoughts that whisper across the back of my mind. I might be able to get them out, if I didn’t see Hoster’s pale face in the grass every time I look at Heren.
“You… you don’t even know what we’re trying to do! There are bigger problems here than the Kyrie or the Academy… and you’re here picking off innocent people, who just learned about all of this three years ago…” I see him, clueless, in Cooperative Casting, behind the darkness of a long blink. “You can take whatever you’ve come to deliver and shove it all the way up your ass.”
“The specifics of your plan are irrelevant,” Heren shakes his head. His hand lifts to dig into a pocket above the waist of his robe. I jab my blade out at it. It acts as an instant trigger. Heren jerks sideways and pulls up his disabling orb as a warning. In his other hand, he pulls up a vial of deep ruby - almost black - liquid. I know from the immediate tightening of Darius’ muscles what it is. “The Realms cannot be allowed to merge again. The chaos… the violence… and the power some would command… it is the Legacy of the Lotus not to allow it.” Heren’s thumb pops the cork on the vial.
“Augh,” Darius turns his head from Heren to bury his face in his bicep. His nose tightens up to show his fangs bulging down against his will. His pupils dilate to fill the entirety of his iris. “What the hell is that?”
