by Lucian Bane
Poe didn’t. “Nothing.”
“It’s there,” Sabre said, winking.
Poe looked again, wanting to see what he did. “What did you put?”
Sabre turned and walked away. “It’s just a mark,” he said again.
Poe loathed how much that bothered him. He regarded Contessant to see if she noticed his struggle, and she whispered to him, “He probably can’t draw, so he hid it.”
The unexpected insult brought a laughter in Poe that shot out before he could catch it. Contessant joined him in equal vigor until they had an audience of eyes as they walked. Sabre merely shook his head without looking back at them, and Poe was glad he didn’t rise to the occasion. Poe had no defense for his immaturity. He just knew that he needed those words from his Contessant, on this day, at that very moment.
Several moments later, they entered the outer walls of the Capital and Contessant came to an abrupt halt. “Oh my God!” She looked up, gasping in awe, seeing for the first time what could not be seen from the outer court due to the mist enshrouding the Capital.
The building’s base was an eight sided structure made of every manner of precious gem, fused together to form stones not known to the human realm. But it was the ancient warriors of Octava—The Eight Crystal Knights forming the corners—that held her mouth open, he was sure. Each Knight was pure crystal and measured eight hundred feet high and eight hundred feet wide. And on their shoulder’s they held the Queen’s Castle. To complete the awe inspiring view, the massive arms of the Knights were locked together in the unbreakable guardian’s unity.
The Crystal Knights and the Queen were the most powerful on Octava, as the energy from the eight bogs ran beneath the capital and entered the feet of the mighty warriors, infusing them with all the power in the realm. And this power, in turn, suffused every aspect of the Queen’s Palace above it, as well as the crown of the Queen herself.
The trip to the Queen’s Castle would be Poe’s first as well. They entered an eight sided shaft the size of a large room. Human sized replicas of The Crystal Knights stood at the eight corners of the structure. Poe held Contessant tightly before him, not knowing what to expect, really. They both looked up and even Poe couldn’t withhold his breath of awe at the height. He couldn’t see its end.
A shimmering film that resembled water, suddenly formed walls and a ceiling. And without warning, they shot upward. The speed was incalculable, but the pressurized interior kept them from feeling it. Except for the blurring of particles beyond the translucent walls, you wouldn’t know that you travelled at such rapidity.
Poe noted that both Sabre and Valentine seemed oddly accustomed to it all. He remembered they were a lot older than he was. They’d been around. But to show such serenity in the face of Octava’s most noble protuberant? Borderline arrogance, to Poe.
When they finally came to the receiving room where the Queen would see them, Contessant came to a sudden halt, her eyes huge. “I can’t do this,” she whispered.
They all turned to her, puzzled.
She shook her head. “I… I’m not. I’ve scribbled things I’m not proud of.”
“The Queen knows,” Sabre said. “There is no story, written with pen or blood, whether published or not, that she does not know about.”
Contessant’s horror seemed to increase with that. She swallowed and the sound of it echoed in the enormous hall whose ceiling, too, was without sight. She shook her head, putting both hands over her face. “I can’t, I’m ashamed,” she hissed.
Poe didn’t know what to say and it seemed that Sabre and Valentine didn’t either.
“I… I wrote things, vile things.” She looked at her hands as though seeing filth on them. “I wish now I could undo it.”
“Scribbler,” Poe said. “Let yesterday be a map that guides your steps today, and tomorrow.”
“The Rider speaks wisely.”
The tinkling voice came with the sudden appearance of the Queen behind them, followed by Sabre and Valentine’s surprising bow of deference. Poe quickly followed suit as did Contessant.
Chapter Fourteen
“Come,” the Queen held out a hand to them. “We have many important things to discuss.” Her luminous face broke into a gentle smile before she turned and entered a quark shaped doorway. Her royal gown was of the sheerest materials that glistened like spun lavender, if that were possible. It flowed several feet behind her, dainty straps of lavender gems on her small shoulders.
Poe and Contessant entered the chamber cautiously, both taken aback with the room’s interior, the floor in particular. There was no discernable one. It was like walking into a private galaxy hidden in Heaven’s realm. Poe noted the missing surfaces for the walls and ceiling as well.
“Wow!” Contessant gasped while Poe gazed around at the glittery particles of lavender light floating at the edges of the eight sided room.
The door whispered shut behind them and the particles beneath their feet seemed to solidify and form a hard, sparkly surface. Utterly breathtaking. Poe realized the particles were still in the process of condensing along the walls. They stopped about waist high, forming tops with thick decorative scrolls. Furniture came into view that wasn’t visible before, while the remaining walls and ceiling stayed open to the galactic view.
“I shall give you a moment to acclimate to your surroundings.” The Queen’s voice flowed and felt like melodious honey. “Valentine, I must say, you do look quite lovely in my décor.”
“Thank you, my Queen.”
Poe didn’t miss the warmth in the exchange with the Blood Warrior as he pulled Contessant to sit with him on one of the white pieces of furniture. Dazzling white.
“Sabre, I should like to thank you for your ever-loyal service to Octava.”
“An honor, my Queen,” he said.
Poe and Contessant sat carefully, not sure what the furniture was made of. At encountering a material that could have been clouds covered in leather, they eyed each other with the barest of smiles. Poe winked at her, hoping to soothe her obvious nerves.
“I am so very in awe,” the Queen said.
They both turned their gazes to the Queen and found her lavender gemmed eyes fixed on them. Poe noticed the tear drop—also lavender—in the center of Octava’s eight sided symbol set in the crown upon her brilliant white hair. “I had to see it with my own eyes,” she said. “The Scribbler and the Creation. Entirely One.”
Poe was almost relieved at her words. They seemed positive, but he still held Contessant’s hand tightly in his. He wanted her to feel his strength, feel his intentions to protect her with all his might.
Sadness slowly entered the Queen’s happy expression. “The Minister of Sound has received message from Earth’s Sound Scribbler. The news is not good.”
They waited for her to continue.
“I am very sorry that your visit to Octava is such an untimely one. I do wish things were different. But the times are more perilous than any inhabitants know. I have protected them as long as I can.” The Queen stood. “I have received word that there are plans to take control of Octava’s Capital.”
Sabre stood. “Tell us what to do.”
“This war will be far reaching. How we fare here will determine how we will fare on Earth.”
“Earth?” Contessant whispered sounding worried.
The Queen looked at her. “Earth is the realm they have always sought to take. Octava and all its inhabitants are the progenies of Earth’s domain. But the human realm is a confluence. Though it holds much power, its vulnerabilities are prone to Evil’s desires. Both the Traditional and Independent Provinces on Octava echo the darkness in that balance.”
“And they’ve gotten to Earth through this… Copy Cat individual?” Poe said.
The Queen regarded him. “You have answers I seek, Rider.”
“I do,” Poe said, feeling the need to stand and deliver the important information. “The Sound Scribbler—”
“The Sound Scribbler,” she whispered, her voice sof
tening greatly. “You saw him?”
“I did,” Poe said, remembering quite well the words he’d divulged, especially the ones concerning the Queen.
“How is he?”
“He’s…” Poe wasn’t sure what he should say. He lowered his head and thought of Contessant. If he’d been in a similar situation, separated from her, would he want her to know? He met her eager gaze. ”He… mourns, my Queen.”
Her face filled with immediate concern. “What… does he mourn?” she whispered.
Now Poe was hard pressed to know whether he should speak of such intimate matters openly.
As though sensing his distress, she said, “You may speak freely, Rider.”
He allowed his gaze to dart to Sabre and Valentine, still feeling the need to choose his words. He wanted them to be the right ones, the best ones for the Queen and for the Sound Scribbler. If it hadn’t been for him, Contessant wouldn’t be here. “He mourns a love he will never live but very much longs to.”
The Queen quickly turned to face the heavens beyond. Poe waited, unsure if he should elaborate. Did she know already?
“Perhaps… he shall have his chance, Rider. To live this love. Just as you have?”
“I hope with all my being that he does,” Poe said.
“As do I, Rider,” she said. “The Sound Scribbler… deserves that chance.” Silence reigned a while before she asked lightly, “Do you know of the one he loves? Perhaps I can help ensure his happiness.”
Poe paused, amazed that she didn’t know it was her that he loved. “I do, my Queen.”
“She is a very blessed woman, whoever she is,” she said quietly.
Poe smiled a little. “You… are that woman, my Queen.”
Her gasp was audible, but she kept her back to them. Poe stole a glance at Sabre and Valentine who wore pleasant smiles at seeing what this meant to her.
“Well then,” she said, still not facing them. “I shall do all in my power… to ensure his beautiful heart… is healed.” She turned to them, her face stern. “Of course, we always do all that we can from here, to protect all inhabitants on Earth.” She made her way to one of the white seats and sat with practiced grace. “Sit Rider.”
Poe did as told and the Queen eyed Contessant now. “When they began reversing the 8 fold way, they used fictional characters to influence humans.” Her brow furrowed with regret and concern. “After careful consideration, we decided the best course of action was to counter with the same measures. Therefore we mused upon the same targeted humans, we sent our own voices. The voice reflecting the ancient codes of Octava. It was our intention to give them a chance to fight the evil attacking their minds, prevent the evil from taking them over.” She lowered her gaze. “We did manage to stop them for quite a long time, but… the humans that were targeted ended up suffering psychological breaks they called Schizophrenia.” She gave a light gasp and stood, putting her back to them again. “It was not the best protection.”
Sabre said quietly, “Evil doesn’t often provide a choice for painless or easy solutions.”
The Queen nodded, remaining turned. “What else, Rider.”
Poe thought a moment. “There is a Tabard placed over Earth. So that… the humans don’t remember Octava.” Poe waited for a response but the Queen made no comment. “They… seem to have succeeded at organizing humans there. They are working to bring to fruition whatever it is they intend.”
“As I feared,” the Queen murmured.
“As you feared?” Contessant wondered. “I’m sorry, I’m… I’m so very lost on the page.”
The Queen’s voice echoed with a millennial sadness. “The moment Darkness stepped into the Light… the moment Evil mixed with Goodness…” The Queen turned. “The war of Good and Evil began. And has now come to an end.”
She moved her gaze over all of them. “I will tell you three things about Evil that it fights very hard to keep secret. The first is that Evil was never, ever, designed to co-exist with Goodness. The forces are opposing and by nature, are meant to tear at one another until one or the other is annihilated.
“The second secret about Evil is that it is addictive and imprinting. Once it enters—whether by force or deception—the human begins to undergo subtle physiological changes. The mind and body will soon crave it. Seek it. Find it. Devour it. And then spread it through any means it can.
“And the third secret about Evil… is its end game. It is, and always has been, to enter humanity, take gradual control of them, and lead them to eternal death. All… by their own free will. All… without them ever… knowing it. These are Evil’s most prized secrets. And these are the secrets Octava has strived for centuries to tell humankind. In every way we possibly can—through the written word, through music, through dance, through all the visual arts, and through every science.”
The Queen walked to the right side of the room and touched the wall, opening it. “That telling has come to an end. And the final war is here. We are no longer inhabitants of Octava,” she said, entering the room and then returning only moments later, girded with lavender plates of armor. “We are now soldiers of the Realms.”
Poe didn’t miss the weapons infused on her right arm as she made her way back to them. They were like nothing he’d ever seen before. “Our first objective is to launch a search party. We will find the Paranormal Guardian. He is to be detained for questioning.” She eyed Sabre and Valentine. “Though I know he is guilty, Octava’s protocol requires due process.”
“The Paranormal Guardian tried to get the information I just gave you,” Poe said, hoping to offer more to help bypass the time consuming protocols.
“Yes,” Contessant said, nodding, seeming to be of the same thoughts with him. “We escaped. It-it was trying to take it from Poe. By force. I demanded to see the Queen.”
She eyed Contessant now. “You were the one that sent the call?”
“The call?” Poe said.
“Yes,” the Queen said. “Only… it was the Sound Scribbler that heard it on Earth. And contacted the Sound Minister who then notified me. By the time I looked into it, the signal location was gone.”
“The Paranormal Guardian released us immediately,” Poe said.
“I imagine he did.” The Queen’s anger was only barely tempered. She went to the center of the room and a panel rose from the floor. “You shall go into the weapons room behind me and take as many as you need.” Sabre and Valentine wasted not a second, heading straight to it as the Queen’s fingers flew over the glass surface. “I have just mobilized all of Octava’s forces and summoned the Province Guardians. We will convene and vote immediately. You will be escorted to Octava’s Tactical Chambers within the hour. You are all to attend.” She eyed each of them. “Please tend to all personal matters. I fear we will be acting immediately.”
Chapter Fifteen
Poe paced in the small bathroom inside a holding room near the Tactical Chamber. He had no need for it other than a moment of privacy, away from the eyes of Contessant. He gripped the lavatory with both hands, the power in his body surging wildly. He stared into the mirror, studying the bright silver eyes before him, looking for signs of the change taking him. He tried to recall if one of those Wolf-Vamps had bitten him. He angled his head, looking at his scars, waiting for something to explain the power surging in him, the hunger.
He clenched his eyes shut. They were going to war. Worst case scenario, that meant they were going to die. He wanted Contessant far, far, away from anything like this. But there she was, in the next room, ready and eager to be right among it all as if it were some fictional story adventure.
And then there was this power and its sheer hunger. For her! To have Contessant in that second. The need was unlike any hunger he’d ever felt. He didn’t understand it, recognize it. Not even his human had craved her like this. The only thing remotely close to it that it resembled was the disease the Wolf-Vamps had. But his was a bonding need, he needed to bond with her on Octava, and something more than just d
esire demanded it.
“Poe?” A soft knock echoed in the small room and Poe’s body reacted like a trigger, making him jump. He very clearly saw himself yank open the door, jerk her inside, and tear her clothes off to…. Divinities. He was not well. Mark her. Mark her.
He paced in the five foot space some more. Three steps, turn, three steps, turn.
Another knock, harder and faster. “Poe!” Contessant hissed.
Poe stood still, muscles locked in turmoil, unable to answer.
She jerked the door open. “Oh, my God,” she whispered in sudden concern, hurrying into the room. Poe’s brain sparked with power as she shut the door and locked it.
His breaths were shallow. This was it. He would do it, he could feel it in his blood now. The hunger was not going to stop until it devoured her the way it wanted. And he had to answer it. He craved to answer it. He didn’t even care how.
“What’s wrong?” she whispered, looking up at him. “You look… feverish! Have you been drinking?” She hurried up to him and touched his forehead.
“Scribbler,” he barely said, his body heaving with his intentions. He wanted to explain what he was about to do. Prepare her somehow. “I’m… I need…”
“What do you need? Tell me,” she hurried, hands on his chest.
He fought to dislodge a single answer from his throat, but all he managed were many breaths of burning hot air.
“Poe!” she cried, latching on him in a tight embrace only to pull back and look down at his groin. “Oh!” she said in a light gasp, pulling further away and looking at him. The fire erupting in her eyes as she backed up into the wall, the message in her gaze, in her heaving breasts, was utterly clear to him.
Here I am. I’m all yours to take. Please. Yes. Take it.
Poe launched on her, tearing at the hindrance of her clothes, the feeding frenzy at full throttle and unstoppable. He’d never felt, seen, or known this hunger on Octava. On Earth, he remembered it, but on Octava, it was infinitely magnified.
At having all her silky softness exposed, he buried every aspect of himself in that divinity, and he was very sure, should anyone happen upon that bathroom, they would fear for the occupant’s life. The hellish racket he made, suffused with her delicious, desperate responses, replicated a brutal murder in progress. But it wasn’t murder. It was his salvation.
