by Rowan Rook
"The specimen Lyrum have some kind of inhibitor—I think that's what it's called—inside of them that stops them from using Translation, so it's safe. There's also something inside their throats that keeps them from talking. Not that a Lyrum would have anything worthwhile to say."
Amaranth failed to find a reply. He forced his feet forward and stood in front of a cell—it may as well have been a cage—with shaky legs.
Three Lyrum crowded a space barely big enough for one. He doubted they'd even be able to stand up straight if they tried. Instead, they leaned listlessly against the cement wall, heads drooping against each other's shoulders. Blank, glassy orbs that scarcely passed for eyes stared straight through him, but their trembling limbs and sweaty brows made it clear that the drugs hadn't dulled their agony. A grate waited in the middle of the tilted floor, waiting to catch waste, blood, and whatever else dripped from the inhabitants. Their bare feet were calloused and their legs lined with scabs. They were clothed in uniform white robes with faded pink stains. A chart listed the number, sex, and age of each specimen inside in formulaic precision.
The cell was only one of many. Men. Women. Adolescents. Each cell packed in as many Lyrum as it could hold.
Amaranth reeled as what he was seeing finally sunk in, bile climbing up his throat and the color draining from his face. He held back a scream that seemed to echo through his insides.
"Something wrong?" Shakaya blinked.
A few seconds passed before he managed to speak, "This...this is awful." His lips trembled. "This is sick!"
She tilted her head. "Why? They're just Lyrum. It's not like they're Human."
He spun, wide-eyed. "But they're still people!"
Shakaya giggled.
Amaranth shuddered—he'd never heard her laugh before. The hair raised on the nape of his neck.
"With an attitude like that, you won't last long as a scientist. Or in the Academy at all, for that matter. Soldiers kill them. Scientists use them. It's what the Academy does." Her eyes found his. "They aren't people. They're monsters."
For the first time, he was able to picture the girl as a soldier.
Amaranth shook his head. "Even if the school needs them, there's no reason to treat them like this!" It would have been naive to expect volunteers, but the Academy could've at least made them comfortable... It didn't have to strip all of their dignity away. This...was so needlessly cruel.
Chains tightened around his chest as the sights and smells and sounds of the terrible room slowly sunk in, staining him, strangling a part of himself he wouldn't get back.
...Did most Humans really hate Lyrum this much?
Shakaya shrugged. "If it were up to me, I'd just as soon have them all killed and be done with it. All this research stuff is stupid."
A muffled groan came from nearby. One of the captive men dragged himself closer to the bars and stuck a few fingers through the bottom rung.
As if to emphasize her point, Shakaya slammed her boot down on the Lyrum's fingers. A cry vibrated in his throat, muted unevenly by his inhibitor, cutting in and out like static from a broken machine.
Amaranth lurched back with a gasp of his own.
Shakaya glanced over her shoulder with another giggle. "You're pathetic, you know that? If you're going to succeed, you need to toughen up."
He whirled on his heels and fled, not letting her see his tears.
Ƹ̴Ӂ̴Ʒ
Amaranth crumpled against the study wall, losing the battle with his burning eyes.
That was his future. He'd begged to be a part of it. He'd signed his name along the dotted line.
No. He couldn't back down, not now. The girl was right—he needed to toughen up. He needed to be able to handle it. He needed to get stronger.
He'd come to the Academy to chase his dreams. There was no other way to conduct the research he needed to do, so for the time being, this was just the way it had to be. He was going to be a scientist—an explorer of Translation and of the two species. It would be worth it in the end, for everyone. He could do it.
Maybe Shakaya was right. Maybe Lyrum didn't deserve to be treated the same way Humans were. After all, they'd—
He clutched his brow as if that would keep out the memories—the stink of smoke—scratching at the door of his consciousness.
Maybe they were monsters.
No! He scolded himself for sinking too close to the Academy's black hole and wiped the tears from his eyes. That wasn't true. He'd come to the Academy to help both Lyrum and Humans alike. This was only one more wrong in the world. Someday, he'd fix it.
Amaranth shook his head, forcing himself to his feet with tight, sweaty fists.
He knew one thing, though. There was something wrong with that girl. He was going to have to talk to Rickard about her. If he didn't...
If he didn't, she'd kill him one day, some instinct screamed.
He held in a bitter laugh.
Ƹ̴Ӂ̴Ʒ
Amaranth woke with a gasp.
A tense glance around revealed that he was still inside the Hazza inn, lying in the bed next to Shakaya's. Everyone else was asleep; it had to be the middle of the night.
He managed a disgruntled sigh, allowing his heart time to calm before lying back down and rolling over in her direction. The soldier slumbered deeply, her features obscured by messy tan hair. Her unconscious fingers clenched the sheets. She looked...uneasy, somehow.
He closed his eyes. Unfortunately, the images hadn't just been nightmares. The day the Academy had accepted him was also one of his worst. It wasn't a memory he chose to dwell on often.
Equally unfortunate, yesterday wasn't merely a nightmare, either. The brooch glistening on his bedside table proved otherwise. Suddenly realizing that he shouldn't have just left the thing sitting out, he quickly reached over and tucked it inside the drawer. He'd been so shaken up before bed he hadn't considered it.
Where had that boy, the one who'd recoiled in fear and disgust at the sight of the specimen room, gone? When had he lost that sense of horror?
His gaze drifted back to Shakaya. Her closed eyes and the docile rise and fall of her chest belied a simple fact.
They were the monsters.
What that meant, he hadn't quite decided yet.
Chapter Ten: Monsters, part II
Shakaya lingered behind the inn, resting her sore back against the wall. Deep indigo tinted the sky, fighting off the black of nightfall but not yet achieving the glow of dawn. The only real illumination came from the electronic lantern hanging above her head. Insects batted up against it in futility, their buzzy wings accompanied by the hymns of rising birds. Her tired sigh carved mist in the air.
Had her thoughts stopped rushing from place to place, it would have been peaceful. Dread tied her nerves in knots and refused to let her return to bed. She swallowed, one clammy hand grasping the opposite wrist.
A few minutes slunk by before a new sound faded in—footsteps.
Shakaya knew who they belonged to before she looked up. She hadn't known anyone was coming, but all the same, she'd expected so. After what it seemed had happened last night, it was only a matter of time until someone showed up.
Sure enough, she lifted her eyes to see a man approaching in a silver-pinned Butterfly uniform. His black hair bobbed in the breeze and his bright brown eyes shimmered in the morning twilight. Jeriko Fiddle, the Vice Overseer of the Butterfly's Human division. What she hadn't expected was the second figure with him—a younger female she wasn't familiar with. She bristled when she saw the gold pin glistening from the girl's chest.
Shakaya's disdain must've found its way to her face; Jeriko frowned when the Lyrum hesitated beside him.
"Now now, don't be like that," he scolded, wrapping an arm around the Lyrum's shoulders. "Her name's Tayla. She patched up that friend of yours after he found himself with a few cracked ribs yesterday. His wounds would've taken too long to heal without Translation."
Shakaya scoffed, "I don't need such witchery."
<
br /> "You do, actually," Jeriko insisted. "We're on a bit of a tight schedule, as I'm sure you've surmised. We don't have time to wait for Human treatments to get you back up to speed. After all, the plan's been put into motion."
Her heart skipped a beat. So...it was true, then.
She had suspected so as soon as Rickard had convinced her and Verox to allow Amaranth to accompany her during the search for the colony, should he ask to. Her dread had grown when that Lyrum woman had approached him after the crash, and the brooch he'd returned with last night almost certainly confirmed her fears. But all the same... All the same, she'd tried to block out the possibility from her mind.
She wanted to close her eyes.
Everything had finally begun. It had been so many years now that a part of her had started to believe it never would.
The silence was brief, churning the angst in her stomach into anger. "Why didn't anyone tell me?"
"You mean you really hadn't figured it out yet?" Jeriko arched an eyebrow. "That surprises me, but I'm afraid it was too risky to speak to you before now. Quite frankly, it wouldn't have been worth it. Everything was under control last night."
Shakaya looked at the sky, not wanting to see his face. She was well aware of what he wasn't saying. He and the others had worried about how she might react, so they'd kept her ignorant until it was too late for her to waver. Like always, they hadn't offered her a choice. "What's going to happen to the Editor?"
Jeriko's voice sunk, "Johanne, I..."
"Tell me what's going to happen!" Her blue eyes burned into the Butterfly.
"I've told you before. I don't know," he answered, calm.
"Don't give me that!" she spat. "You're the Vice Overseer. How can you not know?"
Jeriko shook his head. "Only the main Overseers are privileged to the whole story. They offer the rest of us only what we need to know to fulfill our roles. I'm not the one you should be asking."
Shakaya's fingers dug into the hem of her white coat. "I've asked her I don't know how many times, but I don't think she's ever actually told me. Half of everything she says is a lie."
Jeriko's boot tapped at the grass. "Well, I can't argue that."
Another hush came between them, broken only by stirring songbirds as the horizon slowly brightened. She wiped at her eyes, hoping he didn't notice.
"I'm sorry, Johanne," Jeriko's eyes mirrored his words. "I would tell you if I knew. I really would."
Shakaya stared blankly at the soil. "I know." If nothing else, Jeriko was one of the few Butterflies with an honest heart. If he insisted he didn't know, then chances were he didn't.
She noticed a tingling at her back and jerked around. The Lyrum blinked up at her with startled eyes. One of its hands was pressed on top of her wound. The thing must have sneaked closer during her distraction.
Shakaya raised a fist—the thought of a Lyrum touching her outside of combat sent repulsion rippling through her—but Jeriko caught her arm.
The Lyrum flinched, nervously pulling away its fingers.
Jeriko offered it a reassuring smile, "Go on, finish up."
Shakaya shot Jeriko a defiant glare that he didn't so much as acknowledge. In the end, she didn't fight him, letting the thing make use of its healing Translation. Her pain drifted away at an accelerated pace, fading until there was nothing left of it.
The soldier straightened and crossed her arms, silent.
Jeriko sighed. "She says 'thank you,'" he told the Lyrum, before whispering something that made it nod and hurry off in the direction they'd come. He looked back to Shakaya, "You know what to do, right?"
Shakaya didn't meet his eyes. "What if I refuse? What if I said I don't want to be a part of this anymore?"
Jeriko actually looked a bit worried, but then his face shifted to one of regret. "It might be more difficult, but we'd move forward without you. We can't let all those years of preparation go to waste. And realistically, we've only got one shot at this." He paused, wetting his lips before continuing, "If you refused to cooperate, certain people would be quite angry."
Shakaya glowered at him. Was that a threat? It was true, though. "What if I told the Editor everything?"
Steel flickered through the Butterfly's eyes. "It would threaten not only our plans, but our safety. It would bring risks we couldn't take. You know what we would have to do. Don't make us."
Jeriko's face left no potential for doubt. Once again, he meant what he said. Shakaya held back a shudder.
"Don't forget," the Butterfly's stare never faltered, "this is what you wanted, too."
Shakaya said nothing.
"You will go through with it, won't you?" Jeriko chirped after a few beats of silence, his voice softening.
She simply nodded.
Ƹ̴Ӂ̴Ʒ
Amaranth picked at his bread and jam, not quite able to summon the appetite to eat. Thoughts of yesterday wouldn't stop swirling in his stomach. He didn't look up until footsteps neared his table. Shakaya took the chair across from his.
It was still early—not yet daylight—but the soldiers were already stirring. He and Shakaya had been two of the first to wake. He'd never reclaimed slumber after his memories had disturbed him. Sleep itself was little but a dream.
The two of them had talked a bit that morning, but it was about nothing of any importance. He'd asked her how her back was. She'd said fine, despite an obvious limp as she'd pushed herself from bed. They'd speculated about how much longer they needed to wait before reinforcements arrived. Hell, they'd even chatted about the weather.
Neither of them had said a word about the night before. Nothing about the Councilor. Nothing about what he'd done. And certainly nothing about the...err, incident, last night. It was as if it'd never happened. Amaranth wasn't quite sure whether he was relieved or disappointed.
That shallow normality, however, was why the seriousness in Shakaya's face took him aback. Her fingers formed fists, her eyes red around the edges.
He tensed. "What's wrong?"
Before breakfast, she'd said she needed some air and limped out of the inn's backdoor. Now that he thought about it, she'd been outside for quite a long time.
Shakaya didn't answer right away. "I've been thinking for a while..." She watched him with an intensity that belied her flat voice. "Ama, why did you kill that Lyrum? Why did they force you to do it?" Suspicion narrowed her stare. "They must have given you a reason."
Amaranth froze, and after a few seconds of silence, heaved a sigh. He couldn't avoid this forever, could he? Now that he'd taken action, he supposed Shakaya deserved the details. He doubted he'd be rid of the Butterflies anytime soon—not when he'd showed them that he could, and potentially would, give them what they wanted.
He answered in a hush, "I was foolish... I never should have spared any of it a second thought, but my curiosity got the better of me." His desperation, too, but he kept that to himself.
Struggling not to think about how ridiculous it all sounded, he explained everything. About the masked Lyrum who'd first approached him after the crash. About the Inkwells, the way to obtain them, and the power they were supposed to grant. About encountering the woman again in the mines. About the meeting he'd overheard. About Morak Mayver. About the bullet. Everything.
Well...everything except the letter's intent and his old name.
He stared at the table as he spoke, afraid to see Shakaya's expression. He halfway expected an incredulous laugh, but his companion didn't utter a sound. He looked up when he finished.
She stared intently, no bewilderment on her face. "Did this Lyrum tell you where to find the rest of the Council?"
He blinked. That was even less the response he'd anticipated. He scratched the back of his neck. Had the masked woman said anything? She'd shouted after him as he'd fled the mines, but he hadn't stopped to listen. All he'd wanted was to get out of there. "I think she might've said something about Riksharre..." he recalled, unsure.
Confusion clouded Shakaya's gaze. "Riksharre?"<
br />
Amaranth stiffened. "That's what she called it! Lusanthine's Lyrum colony, I mean."
"I see." She closed her eyes. "Then we should get going."
"What?" he stammered.
"We're going to finish what you started, aren't we?" Shakaya straightened in her seat. "Isn't that what you've always wanted?"
Amaranth's eyes widened. "You'll help me?" Shakaya knew of his goals—his pipe dreams, his perfect world—but he'd never thought she truly understood, or even agreed with, his ideals. Why the sudden change of heart?
She nodded. "If that's what you want."
"Shakaya..."
Was this what he wanted? The gunshot reverberated in the back of his skull. If he went through with this madness, it would mean...
She stood, her palms still on the table. "You should do it. If you have even a chance to reach for your dreams, you can't let it go. Not everyone gets one."
He was quiet for a while. "Yes, but..."
Shakaya's stoic lips managed something like a smirk. "Besides, I have no qualms about hunting down the Council and the colony. It's a soldier's own dream."
Amaranth met her eyes. "You do understand how mad this is, don't you?" His dreams weren't exactly standard fare. Neither was this new method of chasing them. "We won't just be hunting down Lyrum. At some point..." At some point, they'd be forced into regicide. That was an almost certain suicide mission if ever there was one.
She nodded. "Like it or not, we won't entirely be on our own. The Butterfly is powerful. Powerful enough to stand against the Council and the Monarchy."
His throat bobbed. Did the Butterfly really have that kind of power?
"We can win," Shakaya promised, her voice as even as ever.
This was weird, wasn't it? Why did it suddenly seem as if she were more eager than he was? Why was she, of all people, suddenly talking about dreams? Of tolerating an organization half-filled with Lyrum and betraying the Monarchy she'd sworn her soldier's oath to protect? Had the night before, the dysphoria filling his brain with fog, simply ruined his ability to remember what 'normal' was? Or...
