by Marc Mulero
Drino smiled. “You two are playing with napalm. That specter earned his name and I was there for it. He was sent where Hiezer generals weren’t, thrown into missions with little chance of success. Against the odds, he returned every time with the heads of our enemies. But after each assignment, he snapped for one reason or another, resulting in his imprisonment yet again. Consider yourselves forewarned.”
Melissa and Biljin exchanged a look. “Not joining us, commander?” she asked.
“I’m not chasing Chest Candy. My eyes are on the prize. I’ll work on advancing. Direct the turncoat to me,” Drino ordered.
They then exited the room and made their way down the nearest staircase. Two Dactuars amongst lowly Sins. Their flashy attire called attention because it was off, for these parts anyway. Gaudy and foreign like the mansion walls. They were mere decorations more than leaders. But Biljin didn’t care… he wasn’t Blague, nor was he one for subtlety.
He cleared his throat while gently resting his hand between two amethyst stone buttons on his abdomen. His posture was that of a king’s – straight and commanding – with his royal guard beside him.
They trekked on, passed the wagons and in between hustling Sins working to carry out their daily duties. Biljin had to step over two electricians toiling to reinforce power lines, and shove away builders obliviously studying Ordinate structuring behind comically massive blueprint plans covering their bodies. Melissa was even so bold as to grab an apple from a transporter inspecting perishables.
“Blague’s vision,” Biljin chuckled haughtily. “Our modern day Robin Hood.”
“This is a life worth fighting for, Biljin,” Melissa brandished the fruit. “Even if you won’t admit it.”
Soon the two were out of the central fortress and into fresh air, the sun beaming on their glistening skin. Progress was all around them despite the last Quake. It was just a setback.
“This was a different place when I began my journey with Blague,” Biljin explained. “Back then, it was just a mess of crude huts and flimsy shelters, and the central mansion of course. Blague, Lesh, Drino, Lito… they were all in the shadows making it work, while they sent me to find you. But that’s all history, isn’t it? Like the swallowed huts – just dust in the wind.
“Now look, the lone Hiezer fortress that once hid behind a wall of debris is now the center of a small Sin city, littered with people from all walks of life. A living nightmare for the Hiezer researchers that once populated it. Contamination of the worst degree.” He chortled.
“And life of the highest for the new inhabitants,” Melissa gestured. “The exiled flocked to this proverbial banner like nothing I’ve ever seen. A people so detestable… so petty. Gangs, looting, what have you. Don’t give me that look. I know… I’ve sentenced them! The point is, that’s not what they are. Not anymore.”
“Not anymore,” Biljin echoed her words.
Their moment of reflection was over, though, as they approached the looming new construction, the very one that was supposed to be a turning point for the rebellion. The Aura’s home. Ever so daunting now, like a haunted house, it seemed to make the sun itself shine shades darker. Such betrayal was concocted within these doors. So much death.
“There is pain in here…” Melissa whispered.
“Oh, what gave you that idea?” Biljin asked sarcastically. “C’mon.”
Boots clacked on the marble entrance way, as the two were enveloped into the curvy modern design that cascaded down the walls, covering them like a stone umbrella. This building was desolate, all but for the subfloor quarters within its darkest corner, where the Mentis Shade was confined and the families he scarred piled in. That’s where they were headed.
On they went, across the grand barren halls where only the echoes of their footsteps could be heard, down the cramped flight of stairs not meant for visitors, and toward the door.
The Champion entered first. There he was, infamous and daunting. It didn’t matter how many people were bickering around them, it was the murderer who drew eyes first.
“You’re early,” Milos said, looking up at them with his arms folded. “Nothing has changed.”
“Perhaps we can be of some persuasive assistance,” Biljin said, walking past Melissa and extending a hand to guide the kid out of his way. He turned with his back to Dendrid and eyed the civilians, waiting for them to quiet down.
Reason has overcome emotion in half of the people fighting before me. That means the other half is resiliently stubborn. To have already persuaded half, though, that this predator is worth freeing… that boy has proved to be useful.
Biljin swiveled his head to the prisoner.
He must have shown good faith. Or, someone has already convinced them of his intentions.
He then stared down at Milos.
No matter. My presence as a commander will appeal another to vote in the right direction. All I must do is introduce the slightest rhetoric, that their stalling is costing Sin lives, which is the truth.
One by one the angry and distraught faces turned to him, until the handful of voters gifted Biljin their attention.
“You have suffered loss,” Biljin began factually. “I see it in your eyes, plain as day, in every one of you. Hold onto that as I speak, for it will make you understand the gravity of my words.”
He gestured to Dendrid. “Herein lies a cause of death. A serial murderer. A psycho. A man who clearly is devoid of empathy as he stomped out the hope within you. Such detestable acts demand your every right to seek justice. It does.” He nodded along with them. “However,” he stepped closer to the crowd, “what if I revealed to you that far away, across the globe, there are other causes of death occurring for your Sin brothers and sisters, right now? Famine, turbulent weather, aftershocks, all of them claiming more lives with each passing moment.” He took another step closer to the silent crowd, analyzing their reactions. “Do you hear their screams? Or, is it possible that they’re drowned out by your protests, by our own unrest?
“What is the point, you might ask. I’ll tell you - this killer has offered us his hand to pay for his crimes, which we could use to claim a home for the dying exiled in Old Naples. An impossible task for anyone but him.” Biljin found a woman who was shaking from her internal struggle. “These Sins, they’re all afflicted with the causes of death I just outlined, miss. Think of the person you lost. Wouldn’t you want to prevent that for another, if you could?”
The woman clasped her hands in desperation, surely thinking of the horror she faced when her son’s body was carried into the light. “You would be setting him loose where he could run free.”
Biljin took his last step forward. “But he won’t. He came by choice. Now, every hour you wait, more Sin families are torn apart. Every second you falter, another dies. You see, by keeping this man caged, you enable a cause far worse. If I sit idle at my desk, I too, become an enabler. We do nothing while the world burns. We flourish while good people rot. Can you bear that weight after all that you’ve lost?”
She’s caving. I can feel the voice of reason fight through her emotion.
The trembling woman’s husband draped two comforting arms around her waist as tears held onto her lashes. “Free him,” she whispered, staring at the floor.
The Champion’s eyes narrowed as she thought back to how he used the same skill to fool her a world ago. The confidence this physicist packed behind his words made even the sincerest speakers pale in comparison. She recognized that both then and now, he was using his rationalization for the right cause, regardless of how difficult it was to believe. This was Biljin, after all.
Biljin turned back to Dendrid, who was slowly arching his neck from side to side, in sync with music only he could hear.
“You walked peacefully into this cage, I suspect you have the inclination to walk peacefully out of it as well.”
“This man killed the people you love! Men like him killed my father. Nothing can make that just go away! Nothing is more important tha
n that…” Kentin pleaded, his eyes glossy from the stir of sorrow and fury boiling in his heart.
Biljin ignored the boy and the others that protested once the bars slid open. He watched Dendrid take his time getting up, cracking his knuckles while exchanging looks with the two that were setting him free.
In every image of the Mentis Shade, he held the same expression - half closed eyes and a chiseled, drawn face. Biljin was pleased to see that up close, he looked even more menacing. He would need to be if he were to carry out this task successfully.
“You will brief with Melissa Brink before you depart for the Dome, and you will serve your sentence by giving back to the community from which you took.”
Blague crept into a modern chamber of science that rested within old stone walls. He was careful not to disturb the strange scientists hard at work. It was time to just observe. A fly upon the wall.
It was his father’s blood they were testing after all.
The smoke spewed from the man’s veins like tiny sprung gas leaks. But that wasn’t all – the laboratory was filled with people clamoring to make progress – an unlikely scene in the otherwise tranquil Citadel. Perhaps it was the forbidden nature of the substance that riled them. Something new, like they’d been granted access to study the devil itself.
There, amongst three Neraphis closely huddled over a table ridden with vials, was Felicity, the Citadel’s Keeper, standing tall as the overseer of progress.
What were they doing?
Arms waved over the table to clear it, to make room. She inched closer, her slicked back hair touching her neck as her chin rose to see over the huddle. Blague, too, was on his tiptoes to catch a glimpse.
“For the Neraphis to excite like this… there must be something more to the smoke. Something we don’t yet understand,” Elaina’s hesitant voice sounded in his mind.
Blague was silent, agreeing with his partner’s unease, quickly convincing himself that sitting idle was a terrible idea given how much was at stake here. He couldn’t sit mindlessly. It was against everything he stood for. He inched closer like a bystander hoping to get the inside scoop of an accident.
Felicity noticed, acknowledging the Sin Leader in brevity, and offered a quick glance to recognize his presence. But her form was stiff, dismissive.
Blague scoffed and took the hint.
The hunched bodies moved carefully, succinctly, hushed, as if they were moving something extremely delicate, that even a sound could hinder their progress.
Until finally, one of the scientists rose up with a large enclosed vial in hand, scrutinizing the substance that hurried to change its form. Gaseous mineral, liquid plasma, solid rock - none of its transformations would free it from its cage.
Now what?
Blague was taken aback, his head tilted inquisitively. “Any ideas?” he asked Elaina.
They both watched the Neraphis with a needle in hand, prepared to inject some kind of dark matter into the contained chaos.
“Not-a-one,” she replied.
That’s when the Neraphis inserted the point into the vial carefully. Blague could hear the air caught in their chests as the needle plunger was pushed down to drain the black liquid from its barrel and mix the elements within the vial.
“YREEAAAAAAHHHHH!”
Everyone reeled back.
The crimson smolder screeched… on its own? It lurched to one side so abruptly, like it was cowering in fear, scaring everyone in tandem.
A collective gasp filled the room.
They all then shifted attention to a scientist on the opposite end of the room holding an identical sealed vial. The reaction was mimicked. Connection was made between the smoke.
Quiet chatter resumed amongst the Neraphis and a crowd began to form around them.
“More certainties were just uncovered here,” Felicity’s silvery voice spoke. “The smoke is coupled without form to guide it. The molecules react to one another, regardless of physical barriers. This is quantum mechanics working on a grander scale. Our communication orbs work similarly, transporting information without limits, but that is not what amazes me. It’s the magnitude in which the smoke, or Rol’shatha as we have deemed it, demonstrates intelligence.”
She eyed the substance curiously, as she steered the Neraphis around her to move away.
“What was the liquid that made it recoil?” Blague probed.
“Tell me, what would make you react like that?” she answered with another question, judging his expression. “Why death, of course. Well, dying cells from a fallen enemy to be more precise. You see, Blague, Rol is not so unlike us. It too runs from its maker.”
“What are you saying Felicity, that the Aura has some metaphysical ally whispering in their ear? That my brother rules the physical world… but the Aura rule somewhere else, in some actual hive-mind? Are you trying to put me in an early grave?”
“Early, hmph,” Felicity teased his age. “Come. Look.” She beckoned for him to inch around the table, to get a better look, a keener eye on the substance. “Here. Stop. Hm… yes, now this way.”
He took steps toward her as directed, until her suspicions were apparently validated.
And when Blague took a moment to realize what was going on, his eyes widened. Rol was following him, jerking the vial-holding Neraphis’ hands toward him like a magnet chasing metal.
Blague’s brow tensed in confusion, now seeing what everyone else was. He changed his direction to make sure he wasn’t just imagining things. Again, Rol moved with him.
“What differentiates you, I wonder? What makes Rol so sure that survival is in your hands?” She smiled.
Looming in a far corner, Aslock watched all of this play out.
Felicity asked the stunned scientists to carry on with their work, before swiftly exiting the chamber. She beckoned Blague to walk with her. “They’re cultivating too much power on their lonely island. They’ve chosen to be concealed from the world in an attempt to grow their connection with Rol’shatha. Like all other superpowers in history, they seek dominance through collective strength. If the Aura sustains their position as partners with this smoke, rest assured, the world will have a new reign.”
Blague broke eye contact to contemplate these findings. The tipping scale of threat teetering in the Sin Leader’s mind began to level, with the Aura rising in weight against the Hiezers.
“There is a silver lining,” Aslock’s voice sounded from down the hallway.
The two waited for the Elder to join alongside them.
“Rol chases the inner strength of organisms, but it does not adhere only to chaos. Although it has bound itself to Jason Brink and Asura, it also bound to Orin,” the Elder began to hypothesize. “Perhaps there are more sides to this substance. Perhaps it is just staking its claim on survival, in whatever direction that may go.”
Blague lifted his head. “Survival is desperation. The smoke appears more ambitious than that. It seeks to evolve with its hosts and it works to encumber our world. Look at Asura, her connection with the smoke runs deep. She can command an army just by thinking it. Jason, he conquered death itself.”
“So have we,” Felicity said. “We all live against death’s will, with the souls of our cherished at our sides. Do not speak of Rol’shatha as an unconquerable force. We will best it, once we fully understand it.”
“This isn’t like your discovery of Ayelan,” Blague retorted. “You were ages ahead of the public in that venture. Your dismissal of Auront, however, left others to seize it. Time is against us.”
“Pressure does not work well with the Neraphis,” Aslock spoke coolly. “Step back and think. If not for Rol conjoining with Orin and him seeking our study, I would wager that you would have charged this enemy head on in retaliation, and surely lost. Now look, in the short time that has past, we have gained options in the name of Neraphis. There is a conceivable notion that we can align ourselves with this smoke and remove its connection from the Aura. We have a theory in which Orin agrees, that he
can become guardian of the smoke once we defeat them. Keeper of this terrible force. Would not that be worth waiting for?”
“It would be, Elder, if the world weren’t coming undone. Nature opposes us, my brother holds the greatest technology and most lethal soldiers, and the Aura have… Rol. What’s to stop Jason from taking over any of us next? Or worse, what if other members of the Aura begin committing suicide and let their consciousness travel within the smoke to take over the Sins and the Neraphis?” Blague questioned.
Felicity and Aslock exchanged a look.
“It appears that there is no convincing you to adopt the virtue of patience, and withholding news would be against our alliance,” said Aslock. “We have just received word from a daring scout that the Highest Lord has landed on the broken isles of Vicissitude. Your instincts do not betray you.”
A surge of angst ran through Blague’s body, as if he’d heard that a loved one was murdered. It was the same type of fear. He drew back to gather his thoughts. The idea of patience was completely lost.
“Rol is bound to both of my parents’ will within my father’s body. Their blood flows through me and the smoke runs to me. Perhaps it’s my purpose, my will. What if Elaina and I could become the keepers of the smoke?”
Aslock leaned forward, his gray eyes searching for Blague’s. “You have only just acknowledged these worlds as separate and distinct. What makes you think a novice would be able to navigate and conquer such a reality that he himself has just uncovered?”
“You are a leader of a noble force, Blague. You cannot abandon your people now, when they need you most,” Felicity reminded.
Blague gazed at his open palms. “My commanders are capable of driving the Sins to victory against the Hiezers.” Cryos began to seep down his arms. “But they are not yet capable of understanding the depth of these chemicals that bind us.”
The Elder extended a hand, pushing a force that dissolved the Cryos cycling through Blague’s arms. “You are not ready, adept. Your father is the most experienced with Rol. Request aid from him.”
