by Daryl Banner
Ames stares up at the kitchen door, a mixture of horror and hurt in his wetted eyes, which are fast filling with tears. “KID!” he shouts, desperate. “KIIID!” The boy is beginning to sob uncontrollably under the Guardian’s weight as a set of cold metal cuffs are applied to his wrists. “HELP ME! KIIID! HELP!! DON’T DO THIS!! PLEASE!!” He screams until spit hangs from his chin. His eyes desperately seek her.
The Guardian both pull him to his feet, then one of them starts to pat down Ames’ body as he cries loudly and shivers with fear. He screams her name a hundred times.
And then he’s out of screams. The anger comes next, his eyes furrowing as he looks around the room, determination burning in his pupils and anger wrinkling his nose.
“Both of you,” he growls, murder in his voice. “Both of you were in on this. You and Link. You wanted me gone. It was both of you. I will kill you. I will kill you. I will kill you.” Then the Guardian are dragging him away through the front doors and Ames’ face changes once more to desperation and agony. “KIIIID! PLEASE!! KIIIIID!”
The door shuts after them, the sounds of Ames’ screaming cut off at once. Kid stands there in the kitchen, the swinging door still slowly flapping back and forth, back and forth, like the pendulum of a great clock—tick, tock, tick, tock.
0198 Link
Link stares at the wall, speechless.
Faery holds his hand, leaning against the doorframe by his side. The house is so quiet, they hear the afternoon’s lazy wintry breeze drifting over the yard outside, drawing out the secret whispers of grass blades and swaying trees and tossing loose leaves.
Kid is hugging her knees near him, scrunched up on the top step of the stairs. She hasn’t said a word since she told them the news, that Ames was careless and let go of Kid’s hand, that he got himself foolishly caught by a pair of Guardian, that he was taken away.
After what seems to be countless hours, the silence is broken. “A ripple in time,” murmurs Link. “This is all wrong.”
Faery and Kid look up from their respective daydreaming.
“No one should know we exist. We aren’t supposed to disturb time. Now Ames will be taken to the Lifted City and tried before the King. They’ll probably try to execute him, if they can. Thieves are judged as harshly as murderers. Ames has no chance, even being as young as he is …” Link swallows hard, thinking of his own father. It was Ames who broke that news to him long ago, even when Link was too sore to believe it.
“I’m s-s-sorry,” whispers Kid, her eyes detached.
“It’s not your fault,” Link assures her without looking at her, his thoughts too scattered, his heart heavy with fear. “Ames was the … the zealous one. This was bound to happen at some point, Kid.”
She looks up, brightened. “Really?”
Link takes a deep breath. He’s not sure he believes the words, but he offers them anyway. “Yeah … really. If he hadn’t let your hand go at the bakery, he would have done it some other time. He would have overstepped during the next visit to the eighth. He’s hungry to make changes … to affect things … to break history.”
Kid hugs her knees tighter, shivering.
Link doesn’t want to blame Kid for what happened, but he feels like she could have been cleverer or more diligent. How did he let go and she not be able to just grab onto any part of him, rendering him invisible again? It didn’t quite make sense, the way she describes it. The only explanation would be that Ames meant to break away from her, that he let go of her hand and ran, that he actually wanted this to happen. Maybe it’s the only way he thought he could get to the Lifted City. Maybe this is his way of meeting the Banshee King and saving the world from Impis Lockfyre, who isn’t even the Marshal of Legacy yet.
Kid rises suddenly and rushes down the stairs. Link makes a move to follow her, but Faery puts a hand on his arm and gives a soft shake of her head. “She’s hurt,” says Faery. “She needs time to hurt. Let the child be.”
Link sighs and leans back, dropping to the floor. “I don’t know what to do. Fae, we’ve got ten years of waiting to endure before we can stop worrying about disturbing the flow of history. And Ames is out there now and … and he could be ruining everything.” Link feels his jaw tighten. “We need to make a plan. It’s as simple as that. We will keep our heads low. We must stick together, all three of us, and remain unseen by all. We will get through these ten years together and … and then at the end of it, we will be able to live our lives.”
“Ten years …” murmurs Faery.
“I know. It sounds like such a long time. But we have to be careful, don’t we? I mean, there’s a young Baron out there too, who might be looking for you as much as his brother is. And his brother Baal is a time-walker. What if we run into Baal again? What if we run into a version of him who hasn’t met us yet? There is too much that could happen. Far … Far too much that …” Far too much that has already happened. Link feels a stab of doubt. Am I a fool to believe we haven’t already disrupted time? Is it pointless to try and keep being unseen? “Tiptoe,” he murmurs, thinking of Baal. “Tiptoe …”
Faery lies down beside him, which silences him. She lays an arm over his chest and cuddles his side. Link stares up at the plain white ceiling, hurt from the idea of Ames being all alone and suffering a fate that all of them were trying so carefully to avoid. Why was he so stupid and reckless? Why couldn’t he just cooperate? He was so worried about wasting the next ten years. Now, he’ll be forced to waste them. Link feels so gutted by the fact. He feels so much sympathy for Ames right now, sympathy he didn’t know he had.
“We do foolish things sometimes,” Link ponders out loud, his voice vibrating through Faery’s arm. “We make choices based on … feelings. Feelings change. I wish I’d never joined the Brotherhood. I gave up my life. I gave up … I gave …” He closes his eyes suddenly, thinking of the wooden trinket he used to wear around his neck. Where had he gotten it from? Didn’t his father give it to him? I made it pink. I made everything pink. I wish …
“Why did you give it back?”
Link frowns, confused. He turns his head. “Give what back?”
Suddenly, the plain white room floods with color. Link sits up at once, afraid at first until he realizes what’s happening. All of the wood in the room—the walls, the floors, the ceiling—has turned vivid tones of cyan, violet, emerald, ochre, ruby, peach, deep blue, rich brown, shimmering black, silvery grey, pale green, pearl white … and, of course, pink.
Link is on his feet in the next second, turning himself in circles, swallowing in the vibrant colors. He can’t close his mouth, in a reverent stupor to the visual candy his eyes are drinking in. When he completes his second circle, his eyes fall on the girl, who has sat up with an innocent glint in her eye, as if she’s done nothing at all but blink the colors into existence.
“H-How did you do that?” Link blurts. “I … I thought you could manipulate water. Isn’t that your Legacy? Elementalist? W-Water?”
Faery moves her eyes along the walls, admiring her work. Then her eyes flick back to Link’s. “You gave back your gift. Why?”
Link swallows. “It was taken from me. You know that.”
“But you could have kept it.” She runs her hand along the floor. Where her hand wipes, the color turns gold. She looks up at Link again, speaking in her peculiar, faraway voice. “Couldn’t you?”
Link can’t stop blinking at her. He feels his breath drawing short in his chest. “W-Who are you??”
“Faery,” she answers.
He glances around the room yet again, still unable to believe what his eyes are seeing. Link is dazzled by all the effervescent colors painting every inch of the room. He can’t help but smile, emotionally stirred by the visuals that surround him. He finds a giggle caught in his throat, feeling giddy suddenly. “This … This is amazing, Fae. I … I could never do something like this with my Legacy.”
“Yes, you could.”
He brings his eyes to her. The smile and the giggle die at o
nce. He’s had the thought in his mind ever since he saw her in the dark tunnel with that lantern swinging by her face, humming that tune from his childhood—that tune he heard his mother hum just a few days ago. It’s a thought he has never bothered to give life to. It’s a thought that has slept on his tongue.
Until now. “You’re not … really a Goddess, are you, Fae? Like … because they’re not really real, right?”
Her eyes scrunch up. It is both adorable and confusing because Link doesn’t know what to make of it.
“What’s … What’s your Legacy?” he asks slowly, bewildered.
Fae blinks. “All of them.”
Link shakes his head quickly. This isn’t happening. “G-Goddess,” he repeats. “As in … Three Sister. As in … the three Sisters that all the temples and churches are built to worship …”
She takes a short breath, straightens her back, and says, “I didn’t want to say this before because it scared me. What that bad Baal man said about the end of the world and the Goddess … it all scared me. The truth is, I don’t know where I’m from. But I don’t want to go back. I’m so much happier here. And …” She lifts her chin to Link. “I have sisters.” She swallows. “I have … two sisters.”
Link might have to soon face the very real possibility that he’s still buried beneath that collapsed ceiling in the canals, drowned again, and living in this very imaginative, long-lasting hallucination that he’s built in his head ever since. This conversation may, in fact, be all in his lonesome little brain. There is simply no way that he is truly in the presence of one of the Goddesses. They don’t exist in the flesh, he reminds himself, finding his arms crossed defensively as he stares unblinkingly at the strange, beautiful girl, as if he’s never met her before, as if they haven’t smiled at one another a hundred times … and kissed a hundred times …
They are just idols, he tells himself. They are a set of principles. They are our manmade symbols of hope and Legacy and responsibility.
“Sisters,” echoes Link weakly.
“Two of them,” she confirms delicately. “Just as you have four brothers. I think I recognized them, too.”
Recognized them? Link lets loose the giggle that was caught in his chest earlier. He can’t stop smiling maniacally. I’m losing my mind. He spins once more, observing all the wild colors. After news of Ames and all the time-walking, I’ve gone as crazy as Impis himself.
Suddenly, the girl is right next to him. He stops laughing at once and grows still as the colorful walls by which they’re surrounded. Fae lifts a curious hand to his cheek, touching him. Her skin is cool and soft and refreshing, like a drink of water on a scorching summer day. This close, he feels like he can fall right into her eyes and never climb back out again.
“Why do you laugh?” she asks, genuinely curious.
He stares into her eyes. “I … can’t really believe that … that this is happening. I feel like I’m in a dream. I feel like I could wake up at any second, but of course that’s silly because no one sleeps, except—”
“My sister does too,” the girl interjects. “She’s a dreamer. I dream awake while she dreams asleep … all day and all night long.”
Link enjoys the smooth touch of her palm on his cheek. He is about to speak when she kisses him suddenly, shutting him and all his unspoken words up. He closes his eyes softly, frozen in place with Fae’s silky, supple lips upon his own. For a blissful moment, he sees only stars behind his eyelids.
The kiss ends. He opens his eyes. Fae is naked.
He stares at the naked girl before him. “You are beautiful on the inside and the outside,” he says, speaking to her breasts. “I can never be worthy of you. Even your colors are more brilliant than mine.”
“I have the colors no longer.” She places a hand on his chest. “They’re in you now.”
Her words echo in Link’s ears twenty times before he hears them. In me? He looks down at his bare feet. Then Link reaches out a toe and taps the floor experimentally.
A wave of rich blue color spreads across the floorboards from the touch.
Link gasps. “No way …”
“No one should be without a gift.” She smiles. “But if you want to give it back again, I understand.” Fae clasps her hands behind her back and sashays around the room, her legs dancing. Link watches her naked form—her breasts bouncing lightly with her every hop, skip, and step.
“I won’t give it back this time,” Link promises her. “I’ll cherish it. I’ll … I’ll love it. It’s a beautiful gift. They all are.”
Faery stops near the window, turning to look at Link. She offers him an appreciative smile. “Your family was especially fun. Legacies. I dreamt a lot and my sister dreamt a lot … but when it came to one of your brothers, we simply weren’t sure what to do with him.”
“Anwick?” murmurs Link at once, suspecting it.
Faery shrugs. “So we gave him a mirror instead.”
Link’s face wrinkles, not understanding.
“I’m sorry about making the ceiling fall on you back in the dark canals,” she says almost playfully, coming around the room again and stopping in front of Link. “I … was scared.”
“I understand scared,” Link says at once. “Truly.”
“I know. I can feel your feelings.” She says this to his forehead, looking him over. “I can feel every feeling you’ve ever felt. Why have you enjoyed anger so much, Link? You’ve felt so much of it.”
The question catches him by surprise. This Fae standing before him, she’s a totally different person. Was she holding back all this capability the whole time? Was she silent about his brother Anwick intentionally, even after they saw him, and Kid revealed what she’d seen? Was Faery still figuring out if she could trust him? “I … don’t really know,” he finally says.
“Maybe I can help you feel some more happiness. I also feel a lot of longing inside you. You’ve longed for so much.”
“Hasn’t everyone?”
She smiles. “I like you, Link. Now that I’ve let myself inside you, I see the fear in you. It’s so beautiful.”
Link feels so exposed suddenly, as if Faery can just look at him and know everything. “F-Fear isn’t beautiful.”
“Yes, it is. It’s what separates the good people from the bad. When you have fear in your heart, you have compassion and hope, too. Compassion—your willingness to forgive and to ease the thing you fear. Hope—that the thing you fear won’t bring harm or death to you. Fear also gives us courage, courage to fight and overcome what it is we fear. People who fear know that others fear, so it gives us empathy, understanding, and a sense to connect with others. Fear makes us lonesome, which is the reason we love.” The girl tugs on Link’s shirt. Somehow, it seems to just slip right off of his body. He hardly notices when his pants are gone, too. “Fear also brings us joy when we realize that the thing we fear … isn’t a thing we ought to have feared at all. Doesn’t that make you laugh? … when the scary thing isn’t so scary in the end?”
Faery takes his hand and places it on her breast so quickly, Link thinks he reached up to touch it himself. His mouth parts. I have a heart, he decides, and it’s beating. Has she given it back to me, too?
“Touch me,” she murmurs.
He brings his other hand up to touch her. Faery closes her eyes and reels back her head.
“L-L-Like this?” he asks, feeling like he might make a mess in his pants—if he were still wearing any.
“I’ve never been touched. Not truly,” says his Fae, who grips his hands and guides him as he massages her body, feeling every inch of her, exploring her with wonder and curiosity and something else that stirs below his waist. “Show me, Link.”
“Sh-Show?”
“How it feels.” Her breath is turning short. “I want to feel that.”
“Fae.”
Their naked bodies press together. Everything’s slippery.
Her eyes open suddenly. Link finds his own locked upon hers, hypnotized. She is so beautiful
. She knows me deeper than anyone has ever known me. She understands me. She …
“I want you inside me, Link.”
The room bursts into colors again. Link doesn’t know which of them is responsible. “Fae, I … I …”
The two of them drop to the floor, body over body, mouth to mouth. And in the kaleidoscope of wonder that’s become their room, two lonesome youths unite their bodies, becoming one.
0199 Sedge
Sedge stares at his reflection as he pokes his face. Every time he pokes, the world he thinks he knows changes. The world is beautiful. Poke. The world is madness. Poke. The world is a dress of silk and wind. Poke. The world is a sweaty naked boy atop Cloud Tower. Poke. The world is a ringing, shrieking laughter. Poke. The world—
“No use for you anymore?” barks the huge, annoying, red block of muscle called Baigan.
The reflection Sedge stares at is the window of a candy parlor, and it shows Baigan—idiot number one—directing that question at the bald telekinetic with the bright piercing eyes named Yoli, who is sitting silently on a bench, his face callous and unkind.
“Now that I’ve caught the King’s prize—Ruena—what the fuck use are you?” belts out Baigan, his red muscles flexed so taut that Sedge wonders if all his veins might burst. “No more dangling a fool a day over the brim of the Lord’s fallen Garden! Maybe you ought to invest in some balls so that your mind can juggle them in the air, keep you occupied like a second ward entertainer.”
Idiot number two, Splinters, is leaning on a column nearby as he rewraps his bandages from a wound Ruena gave him—a severe burn on the tips of the fingers of one of his hands. He laughs, finding his red friend’s joke amusing.
