by Daryl Banner
He leans against the edge of the pool, propping up his elbows behind him. The surface of the cool water tickles his nipples and armpits as it ripples gently. “What’s wrong with your mother?”
“She changed. She withdrew from friends. She let the gold of the Lifted City spoil her. Really, it isn’t the Lifted City itself that’s bad, nor the Lifted way of life. It’s the people who are blinded by the gold. They start to see everything in shades of gold. My mother used to be so giving, even for a Hightower. Sixth ward. You know they have a bad reputation, sixth warders, so-called Hightowers because of their tall towers and buildings. Similar to Lifted City citizens.”
“Ah. You’re from the sixth?”
“Yes.” Erana’s eyes drift over to Rone’s. He’s never appreciated how personal her gaze looks when it falls upon him. It’s like they’ve known each other for years. “You’ll find your sister Cintha.”
Rone lifts an eyebrow, caught off-guard by the shift in topic.
“I won’t find mine because she’s dead,” Erana goes on, “but so’s the Peacemaker. And King Greymyn. Sanctum has unraveled. It’d be a surprise to me if the sanctuary in which your sister’s kept has not already broken open, its occupants freed.”
He didn’t realize she had a sister. “Sanctuary?”
“Cintha was deemed valuable. That much we do know. Janlord would not have bothered with putting her on a list otherwise. And if there is anything you can know with certainty, it’s that Sanctum will protect any and all things it deems valuable. That includes a girl from the slums whose Legacy can sway the hearts of men.”
The cocks of men, more like. But he keeps the thought to himself and nods, reassured. “Thank you, Erana. I hope you’re right.”
“I’m pretty sure I know how this ends, too.”
Rone lifts both his eyebrows now. “Do you?”
“Yes. History repeats. Over and over. Nothing that’s happening hasn’t happened already before, really.” Her words pour out of her without a trace of emotion, like a Lifted computer reciting the facts and terms that it was programmed to know. “I think Impis’s reign will be ended by the hand of a single person who turns upon him. All it takes is one person, really. Then the city, in its desperate search for a new leader, will break apart. The slums will divide, even more so than they are now. Did you know in the beginning of our histories, there were no wards? It’s probably already happening, in fact. And when Atlas settles and the people, maybe years from now, at last find a Queen or King to rule them, we will know a long-lasting peace. Like all peace, it will be temporary. But it will be long-lasting. And whether or not I’m alive in the end, that’s yet to be known, of course. We’re all just pawns. But I know I’ll be alone.”
Rone feels hollowed by her last words. He parts his lips. “Erana. Why do you think you’ll be alone?”
“I don’t make friends. My mother has replaced me and my dead dad with the gold I’ve earned her. I don’t have lovers, either.”
She certainly has a way of being blunt. “Sanctum’s unraveling may have changed your mother. Maybe she is worried about you right now, desperately worried, in agony with each passing day.”
“Maybe.” Her eyes lift up to meet Rone’s for a moment, and then they look away again, troubled, pensive. “Ruena is bold. Brave. I can’t help but admire her. Sometimes I … feel deep stirrings within me when I see her. She’s the woman I could be if I was free from my own mind. I know every word Ruena’s ever given to the people on a broadcast. I can recite the speeches by rote … right here. I …” She swallows and stares off, as if picturing one of them. “I admire her.”
Rone smiles. “She is … a very unique woman.”
“She’s powerful. She’s beautiful … in a strange sort of way. She makes my heart fill up when I see her on the screen addressing the people. I wanted her to be our Queen so dearly. I wanted to … be …”
To be her? Rone moves through the water, pulling himself close to Erana. The drips of water from the back of his head and neck echo around them. “You won’t be alone. You have Ruena and I.” Erana doesn’t respond to that, looking off at the doorway. “Erana?”
Rone swallows, studying the side of her face. She’s really quite pretty. Maybe more so than Ruena, who rather has an otherworldly, exotic beauty. If she wasn’t boxed into that academy up here in the Lifted City, she would have boys all over her.
“It’s true,” comes another voice.
The two of them turn. Ruena stands at the doorway by the pool. She is naked from the waist up, her exposed breasts framed by her long white hair that cascades down her body in curtains, more so on the side without the hair-free thick scar that runs from the top of her head, around the back of her ear, and down to her jaw.
“You aren’t alone,” says Ruena. “You have us. And you’ll always have us. We’re together in this. I trust the two of you more than …” Her eyes flicker with joy, a strange, uncharacteristic smile spreading across her face. “More than nearly anyone who’s stood by my side and claimed to wish the best for me. It is a painful thought, to realize how many people only loved me for what I could give them, for who I was, for the cold and ungainly throne I was meant to sit upon. My closest friends betrayed me or died. Janlord. Sedge. My aunt, who I trusted and loved, vanished overnight, fell to the slums, dead. I’m lost without either of you. Truly.”
Rone and Erana listen to her with mouths parted. Rone can’t seem to pry his eyes from Ruena’s breasts, as if each time he sees them is the first time.
His cock rises below the water to full, unapologetic attention.
“Do you …” mutters Rone, his voice slightly cracking in the effort. “Um … Do you want to, ah …” He swallows, quickly glancing at Erana, who is still staring at Ruena with curiosity in her eyes. “Do you want to join us?” he finally gets out.
Ruena shakes her head softly. “I … I’m not sure I trust myself in a pool with other people. My Legacy can be … quite unpredictable at times.”
“I trust you,” says Rone too quickly.
“Really. I … I don’t want to put your lives in any danger,” Ruena insists gently.
It is Erana who moves through the water toward the steps of the pool. She ascends, water running down her body, and offers a dripping hand to Ruena.
Ruena looks at the hand as if alarmed by it. Then, slowly, her eyes soften, as if she remembers that life is full of possibilities and any minute of the day could pull her into yet another new, unusual, exciting experience. Ruena unties the silk at her waist, letting it drop to the stone floor, then lightly accepts Erana’s hand. Together, they enter the pool.
Rone watches every moment unblinking.
“Just relax,” murmurs Erana. “You are in control of your power. You always were.”
“Of course.” The look of trepidation on Ruena’s face is evident, but the longer she’s in the water, the more it seems to ease. “Yes. Of course. I will not harm you. Storms and rain are one thing, when lightning dances erratically in the sky, yes, but … but a pool is …”
“Innocent.” Erana doesn’t let go of her hand, even as they are submerged to their waists in the water. “Safe.” Then to their breasts. “Like home.”
Their breasts seem to float on the water. Rone’s cock is so hard beneath the surface, he feels like any push or pull of the water on it in the wrong (or is it right?) way could make him blow. His breath has stopped in his tightened chest. He can’t close his mouth.
“Thank you,” murmurs Ruena, to which Erana only smiles, shy and wordless. “Your hair is so beautiful. I’ve always wondered what I would look like with hair your color. Black as night.”
“Opposite of yours,” replies Erana simply. “White as pearls.”
Ruena smiles. “I could have been born with fire in my hair from my father’s side, but I took after my mother and her sister, all who come from a line of … pearl-colored hair, as you put it.”
“I thought your whole bloodline had that color.” Erana tilts
her head, her eyes bright and wide. She always looks that way when she learns something new. “I had to have been assuming all this time, otherwise I would have already known.”
“And your Legacy.” Ruena sighs with amazement, running her fingers through Erana’s hair with curiosity. “I can’t imagine having such a gift. The gift of permanent knowledge.”
“Permanent knowledge? I … never saw it that way.”
Quite suddenly, Ruena has all of Erana’s hair arranged, and she begins to braid it. Erana adjusts accordingly, her face reflecting some bewilderment as Ruena works. “Most knowledge is just temporary. We are only human. We forget things. We forget to appreciate the precious gifts we have before they’re taken from—” Her eyes wander off somewhere, then return as quickly, discarding the thought she was about to express that might sour the mood. “But to know every little thing you learn … permanently? It’s a gift.”
“I think my power keeps me from truly seeing people. Or from truly being seen by people.” Erana peers down, bringing her hand up out of the water and watching as the droplets rain down and cast little ripples across the surface. “You can claim I’m not really alone, but I still feel—”
“You’re not alone,” Ruena insists again.
“But I am. I see … you two. I know you two are … are …”
She doesn’t finish the thought. She’s not even able to look at Rone from across the pool, appearing too reluctant. Not that it would make much of a difference; his eyes are still drinking in the sight of two naked, wet women only a few arms’ reach from him.
Ruena lets go of the braid she’s working on and cradles Erana’s face in her pale, wet hands, causing Erana’s glasses to lift. She turns her around to face her. “You are beautiful, smart, and worthwhile.” Her eyes are wet with inspiration as her hands slip around Erana, bringing her in for a tight embrace, water slapping between them.
Rone’s breath turns jagged. His hands brace against the edge of the pool, clawing. He can’t blink. His cock throbs under the water.
When their embrace loosens, Ruena puts a soft kiss on Erana’s cheek. “You’re as strong as your rich, dark hair,” she states. “Look in the mirror and see your own strength, Erana.”
“Strength …” Erana’s reflective eyes find Ruena’s.
Ruena cradles her face again and pulls her in gently. This time, their lips touch, soft and velvety. Ruena’s long white hair swims and Erana’s long black hair, half-braided, floats. Their kiss remains light, like a delicate balance of two fragile pieces of art perched upon the tip of a great, golden needle—one’s grace dependent utterly upon the poise of the other. A single breath could topple them.
Rone watches. He can’t believe his eyes. A hundred times this very image flooded his mind when he brought a hand to his own cock to make a mess in private. And now it’s before him in flesh and water and long, flowing hair … black and white.
The girls separate as gently as they came together. Ruena brings some of Erana’s hair into her palm again, then looks into her lensed eyes and says, “Strong hair for a strong young woman.”
“I’m older than you,” murmurs Erana.
The two girls find that funny, and laughter rings through the room, echoing off the walls and the glass and the tile.
Then Ruena’s silvery eyes drift to Rone’s, and the unmistakable magnetism between them pulls at his cock even worse. He’s never been this hard his whole life. He swallows forcefully, his eyes flitting between the two beautiful, naked women in front of him.
Ruena parts her lips. “Doesn’t she look beautiful, Rone?”
“I …” Rone sucks in air, realizing he’s been holding his breath for too long. He swallows a word, then sputters, “Sh … She does.”
A knowing smile crosses Ruena’s lips. “Erana …”
Erana is studying her face curiously. “Yes?”
“Rone looks so lonely over there, doesn’t he?”
Finally Erana turns her head, observing him mutely. It is only now that Rone sees the desperate longing in her infinite, knowing eyes. It is there now, and it’s been there before, regardless of whether she ever chose to show it or Rone ever chose to see it.
Ruena takes Erana’s hand and slowly crosses the pool with her. The two women seem to float like ethereal beings of the sea, like mermaids of children’s fairytales, like whispers of dreams that Rone never thought he’d have.
Erana’s face draws near his, reluctant and questioning. Rone gives Ruena a glance, finding her eyes to be encouraging and full of inspiration. Consider me inspired too. Rone lifts a hand to the back of Erana’s neck, his fingers tangling into her dark hair, and he gently brings her to his mouth. She tastes like apples and spice. Her breath dances across his cheek when he grips her a bit tighter, their kiss igniting with more passion. Her glasses press into his face coolly.
Rone feels the water stir, then notices as Ruena maneuvers to put herself behind Erana’s back, massaging her. Then she pulls dark strands of hair behind Erana’s ear and bends in to apply a gentle kiss, then another, then another. Erana’s breath quickens as Rone deepens their own kiss.
Sandwiched between Rone and Ruena, Erana is consumed with kisses, showered on every inch of her skin that shows—until soon that isn’t enough. Rone’s hands slip down Erana’s body, cupping her breasts in them as his kisses grow with mounting force and need. She gasps with pain—or perhaps pleasure—when Rone gives one of her nipples a playful pinch.
His cock throbs, dancing under the water between her slippery, supple thighs. It’s begging to slip right inside, so close to its home, so close to that place it only briefly got to know. It begs, begs, begs …
Throbs, throbs, throbs …
The tip of his cock finds her entrance. Rone clenches his eyes.
The woman is warm inside, and not-so-little Rone fits perfectly. Erana bites his lip when he enters her, inspiring him to push his cock in even farther, which in turn causes her to bite even deeper.
Rone holds her in place as he pumps her deeply, giving her the fuck they never finished. When their lips let go of one another, Erana lets out an exasperated moan of pleasure at once, as if she’s been desperate to let it out.
Ruena, busy rubbing Erana’s back from behind and putting tiny kisses along her ears and neck, lifts her gaze to meet Rone’s. The To-Be-Queen smiles invitingly, her eyes yearning and bright and full of life. One of her hands slips around Erana’s body and brushes along Rone’s hip underwater, gripping his firm ass and pulling him in time with his thrusts. Her fingers tickle and excite him in the best possible way, and her steely, mystical gaze seems to embolden him, to whisper words of passion in his ears, saying, Enjoy it, take her hard and take her deep as you took me … spill yourself inside her, Rone … spill yourself inside us …
He breathes harder.
Spill for us, Rone Tinpassage, with two Lifted girls hungry for your slum boy cock …
His eyes are drunk with lust. This high he’s experiencing, he can’t imagine any amount of chemical can match it. He moves his face past Erana’s shoulder, and brings his greedy lips to Ruena’s.
We want you so bad. We’re hungry for you.
He’s on the edge, working Ruena’s soft, cool lips. Once when they separate, she breathes a word on his lips before they connect again. What was that word she just said? Fuck? Kiss? Yes …?
Spill for us, he hears. Yes, yes, yes, he answers, and the release he feels when he erupts several times inside of Erana is the closest to a dream he will ever know. When the waters settle between the three of them, out of breath, clutching each other in the pool, Rone realizes he’s found a deep, warm place in his heart for both of these women.
And apparently a warm place below his waist, too.
0164 Link
Twice he hears the Banshee screaming in the sky. Twice it sends a nauseating web of fear through his guts. This can’t be real.
A tunnel leading under a building gives them short reprieve from the busy, crowded stre
ets of the tenth. “You must have many questions, this I know,” whispers the time-walker. “I’ll answer in due time. For now, I need to know everything you saw.”
“No,” Link retorts. “You will answer my questions. And all of them.”
“Of course. My name is Baal. We have moved exactly ten years back in our histories, to the day. Time is my Legacy. Somewhere in this city—in this very ward, in fact—one of the Three Goddesses has escaped from her other two Sisters. We must find her if we hope to save Atlas. Does that answer your questions?”
“Is this real?” Link persists. “Or is this some sort of … illusion of our histories?”
“No. It is the very history from which we came. A little Shye, ten years younger, is in this city. So is a ten-years-younger me, and a ten-years-younger version of your sweet friend here.” Baal turns his face towards Ames, who appears scared to the point of tears. “You will play a very important role, too. It was imperative that I bring you two—and only you two—along for this dire mission.”
Link swallows, hearing the man’s words. At his side, there still clutches an invisible girl by the nickname of Kid. Link hopes she heard his words just as well and plans to keep her presence perfectly unknown. Not to mention that Ames could spill the secret, too.
Thankfully, neither of them move or speak. “My name’s Link.”
“If that is what you prefer.” The man smiles. “Now, I believe you may better understand the importance of that vision you had. My brother wanted to exploit that vision and bring down the Goddesses, and the whole of Atlas with them. He’s devoted his life to it and even misused his unique Legacy in the process. See, the only way to hear the Goddesses is to be so close to death that death itself is imminent. Do you see how that may be tricky for a normal person to receive the vision of the Goddesses … without also dying? That is why my brother played his own role in getting one of the boys of his so-called Brotherhood to see the vision. For whatever reason—if there exists a reason at all—that boy is you.”
