Renegade Reborn

by J. C. Fiske

  “I’d rather live as an atheist, think like an agnostic, and . . . die a believer . . .”

  Purah couldn’t help it. He smiled at this, and in turn, Rolce found himself smiling as well.

  “Seems you’ve been holding onto that for quite a while. How did it feel, to finally say it?” Purah asked.

  “Liberating . . . I’m ready now. I’m ready to let go, and die a believer.” Rolce said, tears streaming down his face.

  “Rolce Moordin, it has been an honor. See you on the other side.” Purah said.

  “Together . . .” Rolce said, when suddenly, his focus was interrupted by the sound of a small, faint, beeping. It sounded like the alarm he and Gisbo’s Breeze Harmonic gave off every morning to wake them up. It was a dreadful noise. It was the sound of reality, the sound of broken dreams . . .

  Purah looked down and pulled out a Soarian pocket watch.

  “Seems our time has run out. I have no choice now, Rolce. This, this is not what should have happened,” Purah said, his face solemn, in deep regret. “There is a Sybil ability, Rolce. I’m sure you’ve heard of it. The Five Forlorn Fate. As a precaution, in case things went sour, as they have, I cast it, and used this watch, as, a dam if you will, to hold the ability back, until the alarm sounded, at which time, the ability would be freed. This watch, do you recognize it? It is the same kind a hypnotist uses, and in a way, I hypnotized myself, into believing a mental wall, existed around my mind, a wall, only able to shatter, by the sound, of this old watch’s obnoxious alarm.

  Faith, Rolce, how ironic. It has power. To believe in something, especially when it comes to the laws of thought, makes it real, and it was just powerful enough to hold back my ability, but now, upon hearing my alarm, the ability, like a raging river . . . it’s been freed . . .

  There’s nothing you can do to stop it, but, much like your ability, for such a great power, there is always great cost, and this one, for me, will be dire.” Purah said, as suddenly, there was the sound of a sonic boom, and a flash of something ghostly, flew outward in every available direction.

  “I . . . won’t . . . le . . .t . . . . . . . y . . . o . . . u . . . . . . “ Rolce stammered, suddenly realizing that every syllable seemed to take an eternity to get out, until, he realized, his mouth stopped moving altogether.

  “Too late. Around you, time has slowed hundreds of steps behind a crawl. By the time you finish your sentence, and cast your Pneuma Art, I will be long gone. This battle, Rolce, I never expected it to go this way. I’m honored, proud, that I was able to fight you at 100%, for, from now on, should we ever meet again in battle, it will be more like 60 . . .

  Right now, you and this city, are trapped in a Time Cage, and within this cage, I can control how time flows, but, to conjure such a life altering cage, well, that is why it’s called the Five Forlorn Fate. I need to alter my own life in return . . .

  In total, a Sybil is allowed to summon five cages in a lifetime, but to do it, they need to sacrifice one of their five senses. In this case, to get the job, done, I needed three cages. One around all of you, to stop time, one around me, to maintain time, and one around Lokin Razgul, to speed up time, so he could accomplish his mission.

  As I speak, three of my senses are now gone, and now, all I have, is sight, and hearing, and I will never taste, smell, or physically feel, ever again. It was functionality versus pleasure you see, and for me to continue my mission, pleasure, pleasure had to be the one to go . . .” Purah said, as he walked past Rolce, and began climbing the stairs, but then, stopped, and turned back. “I’m sorry to say, but this fight? It was only a diversion. I needed to give Lokin the time he needed to sneak in, and take the very thing that powers this city, the Sun Spire. Our city, Paradisio, it needs light! And now, the light and power that gives this city the ability to glow and float, is ours. If only, if only you saw things my way, Rolce. Thank you, for the battle of my life . . . in many, if not all ways, you were truly my equal.” Purah said, as he climbed the steps, one at a time, and not one person, was able to stop him.

  Chapter Twenty Two: Vadid’s Story

  “Ugh,” Gisbo said, awakening to a warm, wet doggy tongue lapping across his lips. “All right, girl, I’m up, I’m up!”

  Fao did a spin and wagged her tail so fervently her whole body shook. Gisbo smiled, shaking his head.

  “Even if I’m gone for an hour, you act as if you haven’t seen me for years! Wish I had your joy!” Gisbo said, leaning forward and scratching Fao behind the ears, then burying his face in her chest. “Love you girl.”

  It was then he noticed the quiet. Usually his Grandfather was up before him, and Gisbo would awaken to the sound and smell of something greasy and delicious sizzling on the skillet, but this time, there was only Fao.

  “You see where he went girl?” Gisbo asked. Fao barked. “Ok, then, show the way!”

  Together, Gisbo and Fao climbed down the stairs with Fao in the lead. She led him through the garden, across the bridge, and up the hill where the doorway awaited. Together, they walked through and made their way into the black hallway, and toward the elevator, but before they could reach it, the elevator flashed, then opened, and Vadid the Valiant stepped out to meet them.

  “It’s time,” Vadid said in an odd, no nonsense demeanor. Gisbo was taken aback by the tone.

  “Time for what?” Gisbo asked.

  “Follow me,” Vadid said, and together, all three mammals stepped into the elevator, and the door closed behind them.

  “Master Control Room,” Vadid said. Unlike before, the elevator, instead of lurching right or left, instead, shot straight up. Gisbo looked at his Grandfather’s, normally cheery face, and for the first time, maybe it was the way the lights were hitting his face, he saw not the just over mid-life crisis age, but, an ancient, old man, and, just like that, it was gone as the elevator dinged.

  Without a word, Vadid walked out of the elevator and down the black hallway toward a single white door, thrust it open, and they all shuffled inside.

  “Whoa,” Gisbo muttered to break the eerily silence.

  Before them, was an all-black room, save for one light source, a single, giant monitor screen, the same type that he had seen within Narsissa’s underground slave ring, only this one was easily the size of cabin wall. Wherever you stood, it was as if you were seeing it straight on, and before the monitor was a large, leather easy chair, along with buttons upon buttons popping up from a long lit, pad that hovered in the air, beneath the monitor. Vadid was now sitting in the chair, and pounding away at the buttons in a fury of clicks and clacks, that had an oddly, soothing sound to it. With every button struck, images began to appear, and flash across the screen in a series of graphs, numbers, and colors. Gisbo walked up and stood behind the chair.

  “What is this thing?” Gisbo asked, standing behind Vadid.

  “It’s yours now,” Vadid said, not turning around as he continued his typing.

  “Mine?” Gisbo asked.

  “Yes. It’s time you learn how to use, and pilot it,” Vadid said, still clacking away.

  “Wait, did you say . . . pilot?” Gisbo asked as a series of numbers and colors that meant nothing to him danced before his eyes.

  “That I did,” Vadid said, and with a final clack, he spun the big leather chair around to face him. He then leaned forward, put his elbows on the armrests, and formed his hands into a church steeple. “What did you think this place was? Just a simple tower?”

  “Well, obviously it’s not based on your tone. What is it?” Gisbo asked. To this, Vadid smiled.

  “It’s a ship,” Vadid said.

  “A ship? Like, a boat?” Gisbo asked.

  “Yes, but one for the air.” Vadid said. “Remember how Vice explained to you that I traveled all over? That the Man-Phoenix became powerful by learning from others’ lives, rather than by taking them like Drakearon? And how I could find, doorways, in Time and Space across Thera? Doorways, that are there one moment, then in another place entirely? Well, this i
s how I found such doorways.” Vadid said, cocking his head back toward the monitor.

  “This . . . thing?” Gisbo asked.

  “It’s not a thing, Gisbo. It’s alive, attached to and powered by the life energy of the Phoenix, and it is just as much a part of me, as it is to you.” Vadid said.

  “Like, so, this is . . .” Gisbo said.

  “All new. To you at least, and new, new is exciting, Gisbo. I will teach you the basics of how to run this, but I’m afraid, that’s all I can afford to do in our time constraint, and our time together, is, running . . .” Vadid said, as he suddenly coughed, and a blood soaked loogie shot from the back of his throat and splatted on the floor between them. The two of them stared at it for a long moment, until finally, Vadid, with a shaky hand, wiped the crimson line of spittle from his chin.

  “Well, seems I don’t even have time for that. Rolce will figure it out. I’m sure of it. He’ll have to teach you.” Vadid said.

  “Why do I get the feeling you’re not telling me something?” Gisbo asked, his voice weak, and dry. Vadid put a hand on his shoulder, and smiled.

  “When’s the last time you took a good look at yourself in the mirror?” Vadid asked, changing the subject.

  “Grandpa . . .” Gisbo said.

  “Just answer the question.” Vadid said, realizing that this was the first time Gisbo had called him that. Goosebumps, the good kind, washed down his arms and legs.

  “It’s been a while, I guess,” Gisbo said. Vadid raised a finger, then spun around in his chair, hit a series of keys, and, suddenly, Gisbo’s face appeared on the screen.

  “It’s been five years, Gisbo.” Vadid said. “What’d ya expect? That you’d stay a spikey headed, baby faced punk forever?”

  Gisbo felt along his chin line, a chin that was still a little swollen from a shot Vadid had given him yesterday, but it was a man’s chin, sturdy and solid, but that wasn’t the only change. His stubble, had turned into a thick, dark beard, and his face was covered with bruises, welts, and cuts, experience, or, lessons, as Vadid had called them. To Gisbo, looking at himself now, it didn’t look like he had aged five years, but ten.

  “Then, if time goes faster here, and time is relative, then, then that means, that everyone else back home is . . .” Gisbo started.

  “Still the green age of twenty one, while you, you are,” Vadid started.

  “Twenty Six,” Gisbo finished.

  “Happy Birthday,” Vadid said.

  Gisbo didn’t say anything. He was still entranced with the man in the mirror staring back at him, the bearded man with hair grown down past his shoulders.

  “It had to be done, you understand. You weren’t ready. You still aren’t, but I reckon you can at least put up a decent enough fight to get by, and do what needs doin’,” Vadid said. “Now, we’ve come to it. We’ve a few things to talk about, things, I haven’t talked about with anyone, ever, secret things, which I need to, get off my chest, for good, and be done with it.

  For you to understand your place in the story of the Man-Phoenix, you first need to hear, my story.” Vadid said, as he turned around in his chair again, clicked a series of buttons, and behind Gisbo, a seat rose up from the floor across from Vadid.

  “Sit down, and get comfortable. I’m about to tell you a tale no ears on Thera have heard before. I know you have loads of questions, and frankly, I believe this story will likely answer all of them. Are you ready? Once things get said, they can’t get unsaid.” Vadid said.

  “Think I’m a little too far into this to back out now,” Gisbo said.

  “You’re right.” Vadid said, taking in a deep breath. “You know what? Change of plans. Let’s get out of here. Granddad needs a drink,”

  “It’s nine in the morning!” Gisbo said. Vadid quickly raised a finger, then, tapped a bunch of buttons on the console and the time on the top left corner of the screen flashed and changed from 9:01 a.m. to 5:00 p.m.

  “I think ya need your eyes checked. Looks like its beer o’clock to me!” Vadid said, corking a thumb back toward the screen as he exited the room.

  “You heard him girl, beer o’clock,” Gisbo said. Fao looked up at him, panting, and together they followed Vadid. Once back in the treehouse, they settled on the cozy sofa with beverages in hand, and Vadid outright chugged his, and slammed his mug down.

  “Another,” Vadid said.

  “You got legs,” Gisbo said, motioning to the kegs on the wall. Vadid glared at him and snarled.

  “And you’ve got a shiny white ass that hasn’t been kicked today. Now, get up and get, your Grandpa a beer,” Vadid demanded. Gisbo grumbled, grabbed Vadid’s mug, and walked over to one of the kegs.

  “Nope, not that one, the other one,” Vadid said pointing.

  “The Honey Ale?” Gisbo asked.

  “No, the IPA,” Vadid said.

  “Rye or regular?” Gisbo asked.

  “Rye,” Vadid said. Gisbo held the mug at an angle, and poured it slowly, then returned the mug to his Grandfather who promptly raised it back, drank it down in a few gulps, and wiped suds from his moustache.

  “Better?” Gisbo asked.

  “Better, but now there’s something wrong,” Vadid said.

  “Hm?” Gisbo asked. Vadid wiggled his empty mug. Gisbo rolled his eyes, grabbed the mug from his hand, refilled it, brought it back, and Vadid tipped it back again.

  “Ok, can we please get on with this?” Gisbo asked, slumping onto the sofa with a heavy sigh. Vadid stopped halfway this time, put the mug down, opened up the top of the glass top coffee table, retrieved a black cigar, a double maduro that had a man on the wrapper brandishing two curved swords, and promptly lit it, and puffed away before finally, relaxing back into the chair with a contented sigh.

  “Better now?” Gisbo asked.

  “I’m the one that’s got to tell this story, and this story needs some fuel to tell,” Vadid said. From the look of it, it seemed Vadid was inhaling the cigar rather than puffing at it. He then coughed, took a swig of the dark Rye IPA, then, leaned forward. The serious look was back in his eyes, the one in the elevator that made him seem so anciently old.

  “Light in the Darkness,” Vadid said.

  “Huh?” Gisbo asked.

  “That’s what my name means. It means light in the darkness.” Vadid said. “Darkness in the light. Care to guess what name represents that?”

  “Drakearon,” Gisbo answered. Vadid nodded.

  “Exactly. What I’m about to tell you, Gisbo, nobody else upon Thera, knows, not even Drakearon, but, he will, and soon. Back when you two fought each other, or, to put it more accurately, when you kicked your own ass, you thought as Drakearon thought, that the Phoenix and Dragon energies repel each other, and because of this, you would never be able to truly fight one another.” Vadid said.

  “Believe me, I still have the scars to prove it, but, you said that wasn’t the case, because I ran out of essence. That’s why my strikes rebounded back at me.” Gisbo said.

  “Yes, but Drakearon doesn’t know this. He still believes that IAM and Appolyon are but massive energy sources, not deities, and in this, he is both right, and wrong. The real reason why we could not fight one another, is not because our energies are opposite, in fact, it has nothing to do with our energies, it has to do with our soul.” Vadid said.

  “Soul?” Gisbo asked.

  “Yes, soul as in singular. Gisbo, Drakearon and I, we share the same soul,” Vadid said. Gisbo’s eyes went wide at this.

  “But, how . . . how is that even . . .” Gisbo started.

  “When you look back on your own life, Gisbo, it’s fuzzy. You’re human, but me and Drakearon . . . we’re . . . “ Vadid started.

  “Not human?” Gisbo asked.

  “Human body, human shell, yes, but we both know that’s not what makes us human. What makes us human, is what lies inside us, and what’s inside me, Gisbo, is anything but . . . but, as I was saying, about the Phoenix and Dragon, Drakearon was both right, and incorrect. The
y are indeed energy sources, but more than that, they are what hold this world together, and in every respect, they are the Gods of this world.

  Overtime, the story of the Brother Gods, was passed down through word of mouth and interpreted differently before it was actually written down. That’s why there are so many different religions, theologies, and takes on history. The mortal’s saw things they couldn’t rationalize, or understand, and in their attempts to do so, they wrote them down. To do such a thing, to attempt such a thing, for the creation, to capture the essence of their creator in languages they themselves created, would be like an ant attempting to bottle lightning . . .” Vadid said. Gisbo thought on that a moment before answering.

  “For a long time, my whole life, I denied the existence of a higher power over me, looking out for me, but, in that cave, the Phoenix, it spoke to me, directly, and it was then, I could no longer deny that there is something out there, up there, but, that didn’t mean I had to follow it, or obey it.” Gisbo said.

  “But you did, didn’t you?” Vadid said.

  “Yes, but, that’s not the point I’m trying to say. All I knew was after that day, I believed, but did not believe in following. I accepted that there was IAM, an Appoloyon, Mysticals and Maras, the whole shebang. It made sense to me, in a senseless way, only because I saw the Phoenix for myself, but others, they don’t have the luxury I did, to see something like that with their own eyes. They have to blindly follow faith, and the words of others. I can’t blame them for not believing, because, if I didn’t see it for myself, I’d be right there with them. To believe that an all-powerful, shining bird created this world, it’s inhabitants, and watches over us? It’s a fairy tale! And to chalk it up to, ‘IAM works in mysterious ways’ is bullshit. Why can’t he just come down? Show everyone what I’ve seen?”

  “You’re not wrong,” Vadid said.

  “But, all that was before Drakearon arrived, and flipped my whole world upside down. He said, that the world started by accident, and will end in an accident, and if that’s true, then there’s no purpose, no reason, so, in IAM’s place, he will give us purpose and reason and that the voice I heard, was just a trick, just his voice all along . . . it made sense to me, so, I lived as if there was no point to life, other than drinking, smoking, and whoring.