The Works of Julius St. Clair - 2017 Edition (Includes 3 full novels and more)

by Julius St. Clair

  This man…he could be the one responsible.

  Aidan took a step forward and felt his body freeze in place. To his utter disgust, it felt as if hundreds of invisible hands had suddenly wrapped their fingers around every inch of his body, keeping him at bay, urging him to abandon his intent. But he continued to fight against his mysterious restraints. He grit his teeth and his eyes went wide in rage but it wasn’t until he saw the hooded man lift his head that he stopped. The invisible hands relaxed their grip upon him, knowing full well that he wouldn’t make a sudden move. Not now. The atmosphere had gotten thicker, and a strange sensation permeated the room, making it feel like he was at the bottom of a quicksand well. Without any foreknowledge, he suddenly knew. He just knew - the man was about to speak.

  “What do you wish?” the man asked, his head turned away, preventing his face from being visible. His voice was deep and haunting, and the way it echoed off the walls, it felt like he was everywhere at once. Aidan glared at the man and chose his words carefully.

  “Were you the one that destroyed my village?” he asked. The man bowed his head once more.

  “And what if I did?” he replied. Not cold. But no emotion either.

  “Then I kill you,” Aidan promised.

  “You cannot kill me. Your power is lacking,” the man said - with such confidence and assurance that Aidan believed him. Who was this man?

  “But did you do it? Did you destroy my village?” Aidan asked as calmly as he could.

  “I did,” the man said, to which Aidan responded with a lunge, but the invisible hands had resumed their grip. The man sighed heavily as he maintained his gaze upon the floor. “I need you to understand something, Aidan. I hope you will remember these words forever.”

  “There’s nothing –” Aidan was cut short as a hand sheathed his words.

  “The brandings on your arms are wishes,” the man continued, seemingly unaware of the young boy’s outburst. “You have used one to save yourself from the fire. The other two – are there to be used whenever you like. Only two more. Once you use them, they will be gone, and you will only have whatever power you’ve gained from them at your disposal. That will be the only power you will have to rectify the massacre I’ve just unleashed on your people.”

  Every muscle of Aidan’s body fought against his restraints.

  “This conversation will be our only real exchange. After I let you go, and you return to the world, our meetings will be different. I, and I alone have given you this power of making your dreams a reality. All I ask in return is privacy. When you make a wish, either audibly or internally, you will be transported here, between the veil of space and time, and you will make your request. I will grant it, and then you will go back from whence you came, as if nothing had happened at all. You will ask me no questions about who I am, and what I do. Non-compliance will result in the loss of one of your wishes until there are none left. Do you understand?”

  Aidan’s breathing slowed as he tried to nod. The hooded man received the message.

  “There is no use in figuring out who I am anyways,” the man said. “You will just waste your wishes and your life searching for answers that have no real significance. Enjoy your life. Enjoy your wishes, and somehow, forget about what I’ve done to your loved ones. For what it’s worth…I am truly, truly sorry.”

  The invisible hands let go of Aidan and he immediately sprinted forward.

  “YOU WILL BE SORRY!” he screamed, but only ash and soot engaged him, coating his tongue mercilessly. As he gagged and coughed at the thick, vile mixture, he squinted his eyes and noticed that, once again, he was back at the spot where Quinn had once stood. He clawed at his tongue, trying to remove the taste from his mouth, spitting and coughing more as he thought of what he had just witnessed.

  The hooded man. He was the culprit, and he hadn’t even denied it. This strange, powerful man that could transport him to different locations at will. Who was he? A god? A supernatural being from the myths of old? If so, why would he reveal himself now? Why did Quinn have to be destroyed and what were these…wishes.

  Aidan inspected his arm and rubbed a hand across it once more. Two wishes out of three he still had. Using one of them had saved him from the firestorm. Somehow, he had been shielded from its path, and when it had decimated his people and brought the mountain crumbling down, he…no, it was not the firestorm that had destroyed the mountain.

  He remembered now.

  It had been him. The hooded man.

  He was responsible for destroying the platform on which Quinn had once stood. Aidan examined the palms of his hands in silence, searching each crease for a sign. And as he stared, he began to see it. It coursed through his veins like blood, but blood it was not. His eyes, somehow, could see through his skin like an x-ray and identify the substance as if he had studied it since birth. It was a chemical. No, not a chemical, because chemicals needed a catalyst or some other substance to perform a feat. This…this was like liquid fire. It was like an oil, a burning sun and a spark all in one. It was rage manifest.

  And it had become a part of him.

  Aidan stared at his hands in awe, watching the fluid course through him, giving his body fuel and energy, taking over the jobs his blood once had. He didn’t understand how it was possible, but he realized its potential. Taking a deep breath, he raised his head upwards, and stretched a palm towards the sky. He imagined the liquid fire surging like adrenaline through his veins, to his wrist, into his hands and beyond his fingers – erupting from his pores like a geyser.

  To his shock, a surge of fire burst from his palm, streaking toward the sky with a shrieking sound that made him wince and grit his teeth. There was no pain or pressure. Just the flames. They reached higher and higher, rocketing towards the sky without end. Then, with nothing more than a thought, it ceased, and his hand looked no different than it had before. It had not been burned or singed.

  He no longer saw through his skin, but he felt it pumping through him, building in intensity until the next release.

  A curt smile formed on Aidan’s lips as he thought of what he had just acquired. Two more wishes, huh, he thought as he examined the seals on his arm. Two should be more than enough.

  ***

  “You missed our appointment,” Isaac replied as Aidan approached the Field of Visions. Aidan shrugged his shoulders.

  “Tell that to the boss lady. She wanted to have a chat.”

  “Oh, I see. Then everything’s cool. Hey, do you think this looks good on me?”

  Isaac spread his arms out wide, giving Aidan the chance to examine him. He was wearing a black leather shirt and pants with a great deal of belts, chains and bracelets strung around his body, looping around his limbs and midsection so tight, it was as if they were infused into his skin. The jacket over his shoulders reached down to his ankles and looked like a battle robe he had stolen from a museum. The contrast of black to his blonde hair was strange, but Aidan cared little for fashion. How would he know if it was a proper ensemble or not?

  “Looks good,” Aidan said flatly. Isaac gave him a skeptical look.

  “You’re just saying that!” he retorted, trying to stretch his legs. “It doesn’t look too tight or anything?”

  “Can you breathe?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then it’s not too tight,” Aidan said, trying to keep a straight face. Isaac smirked and tried to reach the dagger that was hanging from his hip underneath the jacket, but he was restricted in movement, and it ended up looking like he was making failed attempts at stretching exercises. Aidan couldn’t bear it any longer. He burst out laughing, covering his face as his whole body shook. Isaac grunted in annoyance and flexed his muscles, shredding and ripping the costume. The fabric floated down to the grass as Isaac brushed off the village garb he had worn underneath. Yellow shirt and blue pants.

  “It may not look appealing, but it gives me the movement I require.”

  “Oh, like it makes a difference in how this will all
end,” Aidan scoffed, wiping away his tears. He hadn’t laughed that hard in a long time.

  “You won’t be laughing when I rip that special robe of yours to shreds.”

  “You can’t,” Aidan declared. “It’s very unique. Had someone on the outside infuse it with regenerative properties. Even if you somehow destroy it like you just did your costume there, it will always come back together, like it has a mind of its own.”

  “I could have used that…” Isaac said, glancing down at the shredded pieces. “It sucks creating a new one each time.”

  “Or you can, you know, not rip it to pieces.”

  “Oh, it’s impossible to get out of it once you’re inside.”

  “Why would you –” Aidan stopped and slapped a palm onto his forehead. “How are you able to get me roped into these ridiculous conversations?”

  “It’s because we’re best friends,” Isaac said, retrieving his dagger and throwing it from one hand to the other. “And the bitterest of rivals.”

  “Says you,” Aidan muttered, looking around him. “We only hang out because Bailey requires us to. If it was up to me, I would spend my time on more important matters.”

  “Like Leah?” Isaac flashed him a cheesy grin. As he smiled, he extended the dagger in his hand out towards Aidan and it began to grow. Slowly, the surface of the blade expanded until it was the size of a man’s torso in length. The hilt stretched out until it was nearly a foot long, and in seconds, the dagger had transformed into a massive sword. Aidan wasn’t impressed.

  “Could you stop bringing her up?” he asked politely. “It’s annoying.”

  “Why? Because she makes your heart ache? She gives you those butterflies?”

  “Butterflies?” Aidan sighed, putting a palm on his forehead again.

  “You know, that fluttering feeling you get in your stomach when you’re in love?”

  “That’s not it –”

  “But you do loooooooove her,” Isaac laughed, expanding his sword even further, until it was larger than his entire body. Still, he kept it outstretched as if it possessed the same weight of a dagger.

  “Now that I think of it,” Aidan said through squinting eyes. “Bailey did say there were rumors about us being together. I wonder where she heard such things.”

  “You’re not insinuating it was me, are you?” Isaac said with an appalled look on his face. “I mean, why would I spy on you? It’s not like you’re this hot-headed risk that needs to be babysat because one wrong move and everything we’ve worked for is unraveled.”

  “No,” Aidan smiled. “Of course not. I’m as harmless as a newborn kitten.”

  “I know,” Isaac smiled back. “That’s why this sparring session will end with your butt planted firmly on the ground.”

  “You’ve never won a match between us.”

  “Because I’ve held back.”

  “You always say that,” Aidan said, letting a chuckle escape. He noticed that the other villagers in the field, young and old, had begun to back away, taking their manifestations and play to a safer distance. The last thing they wanted was the equivalent of having their sand castle kicked over.

  “Does that mean you can’t beat me?” Isaac said, crouching low. He kept his sword close to his body now, forcing Aidan to stare back at himself in the blade’s reflective surface. “I’m ready for whatever you have to dish out.”

  “If you’ve been holding back,” Aidan warned. “That means you won’t mind if I take this a little more seriously.”

  “Of course not,” Isaac’s voice quavered. Aidan opened the palm of his right hand and the liquid fire began to leave the pores of his skin, seeping out in a concentrated mold until it had formed into a sword made of magma, about four feet in length. He cut off the flow abruptly, and the magma hardened, creating a black and red blade that was crude in design, but still sharp enough to heavily damage flesh. He glanced over at Isaac for his reaction.

  “You’re really going to come at me with a sword?” Isaac laughed. “After what you know about me?”

  “Just because you wished to become a master swordsman with a blade you could manipulate by your imagination, that doesn’t mean I can’t overcome you. You’re still a product of Lowsunn’s teachings.”

  “You keep saying stuff like that as if it makes me weak. Perhaps survival training here isn’t as extensive as being out in the field, but I was taught tactics. Strategy. You had to go off your emotions, and that means you only know the situations you’ve actually experienced. You don’t know how to deal with a variety. Situations outside your personal life.”

  “I’ve noticed that you’ve suddenly become serious,” Aidan observed, allowing more liquid fire to enter into his sword, refashioning it like a mystical blacksmith. He let the fire expand the sword’s surface outwards until it resembled a handheld folding fan in design, losing its previous shape entirely. Isaac’s eyes smiled as Aidan continued.

  “Did I hit a soft spot? Insulting the village you love so much?”

  “Perhaps I want to prove its worth,” Isaac replied. “That our experience and training here matter too.”

  “Experience,” Aidan repeated calmly, looking down at the magma fan in his hand. “Training…Isaac, all your training means nothing against an enemy who’s been in the thick of battle. Sometimes, logic doesn’t give you the power you need to get the job done. Sometimes the feeling, the instinct of having faced impossible odds, is all that it will take for you to reach the next morning. On the outside, in the real world - we don’t look at it as victory when we defeat an enemy or kill another humin – we look at it as survival. We break down and weep and march forward on shaking, wobbling legs, just grateful – that we made it through another day. It’s not a game like it is here. It’s our reality.”

  “But I’m not your enemy,” Isaac replied. “Not one bit.”

  “And that’s why I’ve won every round, even those in which you stopped playing around and tried a crippling blow or two. You still don’t get it. Every blow has to be a killing one, or there’s no point to this. If you die here in this field, then you were never ready for the real thing. You’re actually better off. At least here, you won’t be tortured. You won’t be subjected to the dark imaginations of others. You won’t have to witness firsthand what sick minds can truly do with the Yen they possess.”

  “If that’s true, then why am I not dead? Why haven’t you killed me yet?”

  “Because I never considered this real sparring. I’ve thought of you as a child…coming at me with a painfully dull wooden sword. If I had engaged you as I should have, we wouldn’t be having this conversation.”

  Isaac dropped his head and meditated on Aidan’s words. Finally, he lifted his eyes and stared at him with a smile of victory on his face. Aidan shook his head. Why was he amused? There was nothing funny.

  “I’m glad you’ve opened up to me for the first time,” Isaac said to Aidan’s surprise. “I was wondering when you would. All the small talk, all those little snide remarks you made on our walks from class – they weren’t you. That was an Aidan on his best behavior, appeasing my banter and dealing with my presence for Bailey’s sake. I see the way the two of you interact. You don’t mince words with her, so I knew you weren’t taking me seriously…I can’t tell you how happy I am right now.”

  “I just insulted you,” Aidan stated.

  “You just showed me how much you cared. You could have let this ruse continue until the day I died, probably on a scouting mission…but instead, you’ve finally given me the knowledge I needed to improve. I can prepare now. Deep down, you don’t want to see me killed.”

  “Perhaps you’re right,” Aidan said thoughtfully. “Though I have no clue why.”

  “It’s because we’re growing on you. No matter what you’ve seen on the outside and what you’ve endured, even you realize that you don’t have be so hardened while you’re here. You have the freedom to turn into the man you would have become under different circumstances.”


  “And what if that man is even worse than what you see now?” Aidan asked. “What if all that hardship merely kept my true nature at bay? What if I’m a villain whose nature is being shackled down? What about that?”

  “You’re not evil,” Isaac said quickly. “Bailey wouldn’t have brought you here otherwise.”

  “Or maybe she’s brought home exactly what she needed. A weapon. Just waiting to be used.”

  “Well, then I’m telling you, from my perspective, it’s not true. Are you lacking in tact? Yes. Violent? Yes. Angry? Of course. But you haven’t been here long enough, even though it’s already been years. You’re still grappling with the pain of the outside world. Once you understand that you have friends now, you can start to relax. You’ll realize that we’re on your side – that we’re not the enemy…and if that doesn’t persuade you, all I have to think about is the way you look at Leah. Then I know that deep down, you’re just a big old softy with a hardened shell.”

  Aidan scowled and closed his eyes.

  “Alright, Isaac. Time to prepare yourself.”

  “You’re not going to try to kill me just because I called you a softy, are you?”

  “Just get ready.”

  “You make fun of me all the time. It’s only fair I get to do it to you too.”

  “You brought up Leah again.”

  “Only because I know it gets you all gooey on the inside,” Isaac grinned. “You melt like chocolate.”

  “Go ahead. Keep it up. See what happens.”

  “I’m not the one getting butterflies whenever someone mentions her name.”

  “I don’t get butterflies!” Aidan screamed. Isaac just laughed at him.