by R. T. Donlon
“It was necessary,” her father spoke, “to get you here…to this moment. Taking Reana, too. It was all a part of a grander plan.”
“Who are you?” Kyrah asked. She hesitated to correct herself. “What are you?”
“Kyrah,” the monster continued. “I have known you since the moment you were born. Of all the questions you could ask of me, I do not think my name serves a purpose in the answers you truly seek.”
Time stilled even more, almost folding backwards against itself.
“Why are you doing this to me?” asked Kyrah.
The tiniest quiver entered the timbre of her voice.
“We can certainly dance around the real issue for as long as you would like…or we can get straight to the point—your choice, that is.”
Kyrah kept herself focused, ignoring the strangeness of her surroundings. Nothing moved. No one shifted. Only silence.
The blue of her father’s eyes flickered even brighter now into a steady crystalline illumination.
“I have seen things, Kyrah. I have seen things most could never fathom. What you have seen me do to you is…necessary…and I am sorry for that. I am in the business of manipulation—yes—but it’s much more than that. I have guided you through tragedy so that you would be strong, so that you could stand tall as you are now, about to accept the position of Warrior Elite that you have worked so hard to attain.”
“Please,” begged Kyrah. She could feel the warmth of hot tears beginning to flood to the corners of her eyes. “Please do not hurt my father.”
“Your father,” it said, “will never know what we discuss here. He will know nothing of your choice until you make it known to all of your people. In fact, our entire conversation will be held within a single second of your existence.”
It was too much. The heaviness of Kyrah’s breathing took hold, constricting her lungs.
“Choice?” Kyrah asked. “You speak of choice as if I have already been given it.”
“It will be offered soon,” spoke Jae, “but be patient. There is much to say first.”
Jae stepped forward from the front-line of statued people, angling his neck to keep eye contact.
“You are a very special girl,” her father continued. “You possess certain qualities that others of your kind do not. I chose you because there is god-strength within you. Somewhere inside, the beginnings of a burning ember have somehow been lit.”
Kyrah stood frail against buckling knees.
God-strength? she thought. As in the power of the gods?
“Perhaps it happened when the Shadow attacked you as a child. Perhaps it was the loss of your mother. But my bet is that the god-strength draws its strength from the amulet around your neck.”
Kyrah blinked and her father appeared next to her at the edge of the stage, now only inches away.
“How did you—” but she was not able to finish the question.
“The truth is, Kyrah, the god-strength resides in all of us—both Light and Shadow alike. The gods tapped into this energy some time ago, found a way to make it useful for them, but since those days, none have tapped into it…until you.”
The last of what the voice spoke set the hair of her neck on edge. She had not felt such an eeriness in a voice since Velc had said his last words on the plateau.
“What you are feeling,” continued her father, pointing at his chest, “is the beginning of something no one has experienced in over eight thousand years. Yet, you have been granted an opportunity. The question is—why?”
She reached for the amulet dangling at her chest.
“The amulet is only holding you back, Kyrah. You will need to learn how to—”
“Control the Darkness within,” she interrupted. “Yeah. I’ve been told that before.”
“But it is more than that,” the voice continued. “It is more than just controlling the energy. You must live with the battling forces. You must learn to work with them, aid in their growth.”
“How?” Kyrah asked. “Velc taught me many things. To coexist was not one of them.”
“When you accept the fact that both sides of you cannot live without the other, that is when you will find peace within the god-strength. Only then.”
The amulet glowed faintly now between her fingers, catching Kyrah by surprise. She released it to dangle against the center of her chest.
“It senses my presence,” her father whispered.
A faint smile crossed his lips.
“Why are you here?” she asked. “Why now?”
Her father lowered his eyes, dropped his head slightly into a faux bow.
“I have come to offer you a choice,” he said. “A choice that, if you accept, will change the scope of your life—and the Portizu Tribes—forever.”
It wasn’t what her father had said that sent shivers down her spine. It was how he had said it—cold, definitive, rough.
“You mean,” she began, “an ultimatum.”
The blue-flecked eyes of her father brightened yet again, shimmering against the glowing sunlight.
“Unfortunately, yes,” he confirmed, “but it is your choice nonetheless.”
The light of day suddenly vanished, flittering behind dark clouds that charged the sky. The collected expression on her father’s face had angered as quickly as the clouds had moved. A gloomy sincerity spread across the bridge of his nose, outlining the wrinkles creasing the outer rim of his lips.
“I can give you what you have always wanted,” he said. “I can return to you your greatest loss.”
The Ruganon took hold of her father even tighter, raising his hand with two outstretched fingers. It reached for her forehead. Kyrah recoiled, stepping backward.
“Trust me,” the monster whispered. “Let me show you what I can provide.”
And so she did.
The waves of stilled, Portizu people beyond the stage vanished from her sight, dispersing like fog from a clear day. In the quietest of instances, a dark and dimly-lit expanse stretched outward for miles. The silhouettes of warped, aching trees cleared into focus. A deep gray hovered here—a color that seemed it could never fade. Only a gentle wind caressed her back to awareness.
“Allow your eyes to adjust,” her father’s voice continued. The words seemed to bounce from one side of her to the other. “The absence of light here plays tricks with the minds of your people.”
“Where are we?” she asked.
“You are now in a place that no one ever sees—a place so hidden that even the gods dared not to tempt what lies within.”
A strong bout of vertigo suddenly hit her hard enough to quiver her legs. She closed her eyes and breathed heavily.
“This,” her father continued, “is the Anestra.”
The sound of the word perplexed her more than she thought it could.
“The Anestra is place of myth,” Kyrah continued. “Nothing more.”
The Ruganon simply crossed her father’s arms and allowed Kyrah to sift through the confusion.
“It exists, Kyrah. It is more than myth,” he continued, “and it holds something that you should see.”
There was a curiosity in the way she cocked her chin back. The Ruganon relished in it.
“I am a being of many things, but there is one thing in particular you will be quite pleased that I can do. I vow that, if you promise to fulfill your role in my plan, I will grant you this one wish.”
Kyrah reached for the amulet and wrapped it against her fingers. Suddenly, it burned hot between the skin of her fingers, breaking into beams of clear, unwavering red light. The entirety of the Anestral scene quickly became vividly clear around her—the pale ground caked with a dirty, oozing mucous-like coating, the withering trees croaking in the distance, flakes of ash raining from the sky like snow. It was a scene unimaginable to someone who had lived their entire life deep within the Portizu jungles. She gaped, unable to speak.
“Kyrah?”
The voice that broke the Anestral silence carried quietly acr
oss the stagnant air. It was a voice she had heard before, an unmistakable thing to remember.
“Kyrah? Is that you?”
And in that moment, as if nothing had ever changed, as if the world had stopped for just an instant, Kyrah stood face-to-face with her mother.
“Mother?”
Kyrah’s voice cracked as she spoke the word. It felt so unnatural to do such a thing.
“I can’t believe it! I can’t believe it’s you!” her mother cried.
They embraced and it became real. Her father watched, staring harshly through cold, blue eyes.
“Jae?” Taris cried. “How did you find me?”
“It’s not him,” Kyrah whispered. “It’s something else—a monster.”
It was then that Taris noticed the blue flecks in her husband’s eyes.
“Taris Laeth,” he spoke. “You are here because I have summoned you from Xan. He will be expecting you back in short order. Your daughter must make a choice. Her fate will dictate yours.”
Kyrah dropped her eyes, forcing back the tears that suddenly erupted from the corners of them.
“I can save your mother with nothing more than a fleeting thought,” the monster continued, “but you must do as I wish. I need you, Kyrah. I need your god-strength.”
“God-strength?” The look in Taris’ eyes bled confusion. “In you?”
A single tear rolled down Kyrah’s cheek, dripping before it met the crease in her jaw.
“A lot has happened since you’ve been gone, Mother. Things I can’t really explain without proper time.”
“And, unfortunately, your time is expiring, Kyrah. You must make your decision now—save your mother and join me…or don’t.”
Kyrah turned to Taris in a fit of anxiety. A knotted ball of stress pinched at her chest, making it hard to breathe against the impending tears.
“I…I don’t know what to do,” she cried. “It’s been so long. I have already lost you once…”
Taris only smiled behind a calming wave of energy. She placed a hand on her daughter’s shoulder.
“Trust what your heart tells you,” she began. “Listen to it. Feel it. Your father and I have raised you to be the strongest of us. You were made for this, Kyrah. You were.”
And, in that moment, Kyrah found a glimmer of clarity. It may have been the touch of her mother’s hand against her shoulder. It could have been the ruminating stress pooling in her thoughts, but most likely of all, it was as simple as the calming of her breath—slow, calculating inhalations followed by even slower exhales. She understood her mother’s words of consolation. She absorbed her mother’s collected thoughts.
“What will it be, Kyrah?” the monster asked. “Save your mother or save yourself?”
She lifted her eyes.
“I know what I have to do,” she said. A faint smile plastered to the side of Taris Laeth’s mouth. “I will join your cause, but I do so reluctantly. I counter by asking one thing of you. My parents will be kept safe. You will make sure of that.”
Her father stared at her intently.
“That is all?” he asked.
Kyrah nodded.
“Deal,” he said.
Taris pulled Kyrah close. No words passed from her mouth.
“I have never been prouder” Taris whispered.
Kyrah pulled her eyes upward, filled with a dam of tears ready to break.
“I will find you. One day, I promise. I will find you.”
“I know you will,” whispered Taris, “and whatever you are meant to do, you will do it gracefully. You will make the Portizu proud. You will make Turisic proud.”
Kyrah wiped the tears from her eyelids and composed herself, straightening against the weight of her sudden grief. Taris bowed into minjori.
“Goodbye, my daughter.”
Kyrah reached for one, final touch, but the separation had already taken her from her mother. The Anestra filled with a dense fog as it disappeared from view.
“Goodbye, Mother.”
There was a brilliant flash of light—one that forced Kyrah to turn away—but when she opened them, the waves of the Portizu people returned. She stood at the stage, overlooking the thousands of frozen people in the crowds. Her father stood below.
“When I restart time, our deal will be binding. Your mother will be freed from Xan. In exchange, you will reject the Warrior Elite position that will be offered to you. You must make your way to the Northern Forests as soon as possible and meet the Prophet there. He will be waiting for you. Only he knows what you must do next. Do you understand?”
“Yes,” said Kyrah. “I know what I must do.”
The moment shifted. Time pushed forward into movement and, suddenly, she felt the roar of the crowd rise up over her and the firm grasp of Chief Ultara’s fingers pressed tightly against her hand.
“The votes are in. Northern Lands representative, please offer your vote!”
Jeras Laeth stepped forward with proud shoulders and fists raised high into the air.
“We choose Kyrah Laeth of our Northern Lands!”
The mob of Portizu broke into a violent cheer. White noise filtered through the air like hives of bees. Kyrah stood silent with her eyes focused outward.
“The Jungles!”
“We nominate Kyrah Laeth of the Northern Territories!”
Another grand cheer filled the air.
“The Plains!”
“Curala Shuth of the Highlands!”
“Highlands!”
“Curala Shuth of our Highlands!”
This was it. The votes had been settled two-to-two. The Mountain Territories would decide her fate.
“Mountains! Who do you wish to nominate the next Warrior Elite of our Portizu Tribes?”
Nothing but hushed tension now.
“Kyrah Laeth of the Northern Territories!”
Her heart raked against her chest. The dream she had craved her entire life now felt more like a nightmare. By refusing such a coveted Portizu role as the Warrior Elite, she would be sentencing herself to death by execution.
“By a vote of three to two, the new Warrior Elite of our Portizu Tribes is Kyrah Laeth of the Northern—”
“No,” Kyrah interrupted. “I can’t.”
Ultara turned to her, only shock in his excited jowls.
“You will accept,” the Chief whispered. “You have no other choice.”
“I wish I could explain, but I have no time. Trust me, my Chief, and one day you will know what I know.”
Another contorted change in the Chief’s expression filled Kyrah with a sense of disappointment. Of all people, she thought he possessed the ability to understand her.
“You understand what I must do now? You cannot be serious?”
Kyrah nodded without hesitation. This was what she had to do. This was her fate. She rushed to the edge of the stage in full stride.
“Kyrah Laeth of the Northern Lands has refused her new position as Warrior Elite. Such an offense is punishable by death! Stop her! She must be apprehended!”
A spear cut the air just above her ear. Someone had thrown it from behind her.
Perhaps Curala? The Chief? she thought.
She kept her eyes forward, analyzing the fastest way to disappear. The sting of a sharpened rock broke open a clean slash across the edge of her hairline. This spear had hit her! It clattered against the dirt in front of her, kicking up a bit of dust as it fell.
A chorus of stop her! and traitor! and what is she doing? filled the air. Angry, disillusioned faces of the mob sent a series of traveling chills down her spine.
“I have killed for you!” she screamed. “Fed you in the name of Turisic! Shed tears! Shed blood! Let me go!”
“Traitor!” someone screamed.
“Filthy bitch!”
The calls had quickened the pace of her strides. Muscles stretched. Teeth bit down against other teeth, grinding in heated anger. Enough was enough. It was time to do what she had to do. If her people would not allow he
r to leave, she would force them to. She charged forward, careening shoulder-first into the crowd with a strange, violent power.
The first lines of the Portizu broke easily against impact. She pushed over several men, who toppled against their own balance and took out a few more behind them. A Jungle Territories male clasped her wrist in his fingers and ripped at her arm. She caught it in time and ripped back, dislocating the man’s shoulder with a savage whip of her own. The harnessed god-strength within her had amplified now, heightening everything to a state of transcendent awareness of the people surrounding her.
The crowd thickened, however, until her agility slowed, her strength gave way, and surrendered to the weight of Portizu numbers. If there was a time to end this, it was now.
“ENOUGH!” she yelled.
A distinct cord within her snapped. The amulet around her neck rose from the crease at the pit in her throat. Streams of violent red suddenly vibrated uncontrollably with a newfound sense of pulsing energy. It bore into the skin of her chest, drilling its way into her sternum. She grimaced as the amulet became a part of her.
“It is time you all know who I am,” she whispered. “Turisic, guide me…”
She thrust her arms out to her sides and, with them, a blast of red translucent energy rippled the air. The mob of bodies flailed wildly nearly twenty feet backward . The energy dissipated, leaving a crater in its wake, deep into the dirt at her feet.
“Monster!” someone yelled from the crowd. “She holds the Darkness!”
“The Darkness! It’s here!”
“It’s in her! The Darkness!”
“It’s too late…”
No one dared to break the stillness. All fell silent as Ultara and Curala Shuth pressed forward into the people. Opposite her, the people she had vowed loyalty to now seemed minuscule, filled with fear.
“I told you long before now,” Curala began, “but no one would listen. We can no longer remain oblivious to the likes of what we have just seen. Kyrah Laeth is an abomination! Her bloodline is poisoned!”
Thousands of Portizu watched in horror, agreeing.
“There is nowhere to run, Kyrah,” Ultara spoke. “There is nowhere you can go.”
Only Kyrah stood in the center of the crater. Curala and Chief Ultara watched her from the edge of it.
