by Marc Mulero
His blade puffed out like a spent hearth. A curse left his lips as he gazed up. The sky was falling. And instead of being buried, he positioned his impeller straight up to burst him past the tidal wave. He opted out of being crushed under it. Goodbye, Crow.
Eres braced, felt more crushing pressure, some whiplash, but he made it past, looking frantically from an aerial view for an unencumbered stone, then struck wind once more to send him there. He landed hard, heavy of breath, peering back to the Living Stone from which he’d just departed… then up to his spectators. He could make out the body language - the two girls were at a loss, but what bewildered him was Proctor Vasa, who was unmoved. Not… worried? Something was wrong. That could only mean…
“You don’t get to call the shots here, Eres.”
The voice sent a shiver down his spine. Crow. How? He spun to see the orange gash lit up like a demon’s eye, one that he’d created, and then somersaulted out of the way when Crule descended unto him. He Impelled toward another stone to gather himself, but Crow’s curled fingers summoned a wave that stopped him the same as a solid wall would. Down he tumbled, sword falling from his grasp, and impeller scraping as it spun in the other direction. He wasn’t worthy… the rage within him turned into despair.
When I was struck with Crule, I fell unconscious like a child would. But he… he took it as though it were nothing. I’m… not worthy of her.
Then an image of his father flashed into sight, a sole heartbeat pulsed through his ears, surging him back to life like a shock to the heart. His body was on autopilot – back on his feet – a sidestep, his face lit up and darkened as Crule whooshed past, then he dropped down to sweep Crow’s legs from under him. Another somersault, to the impeller fist, then a burst to reclaim the blade.
Crow chased, but this time Eres was already gone – airborne. Higher and higher, like when his father had traveled with him. He could see the entire arena, feel the shift in gravity trying to tug him in all directions, the darkness of three annexes staring back at him like a black dimensionless citadel. A moment to breathe. But then an involuntary flash of his esper claimed him. His father again. He clicked his impeller to stay afloat, shook his head to rid it of insanity, and then felt something… not the pull of the Colliding Spheres, something else. Was this Reach again? It felt as though he were back in Dundo-Ba. Someone was trying to tell him something. A twinkle from Ozgulo grabbed his attention, a brief shimmer. All different colors, like a dark rainbow. It could only be one thing.
Espers – Seren’s. He was watching. How could Eres be so foolish, letting his love life get in the way of what Agden died to protect? He could see clearly once more. This whole thing was orchestrated, not by a friend, but by an enemy. An incident from the other side, the Rizal Annex, earned his focus. Head turned, he could tell someone was watching – tall and hooded. It was that strange figure that Seren had looked to during their interaction. He was staring dead on. What was going on?
The will to fight left one of them, but the other was gliding up the tallest wave he’d ever seen, ice skating with fire, blade lit. The tension was palpable. Vasa was no longer at her podium. She had left as a blur.
In a moment of clarity, everything slowed. So much was in motion, but Eres was still. His mind was suddenly pooled with thoughts of legacy.
What would my inheritor see when they wear my esper? A boy trundled by love? Not even a boy, a Dawn. Hopeless. Unfocused. Wasted talent.
And with an uppercut that sliced right through Eres’ spent defending blade, another fresh wound crossed his healing one.
“The oceans will quiet in my head once I’ve fed them. Farewell, lonely barren.” Crow scoffed.
Eres’ body arced from the force of the slice and then tumbled down thick air. He couldn’t tell if he was awake. The descent made his gut do flips within flips, his vision blinked dark spots and black sea, sky and floor, one coming closer and the other retreating farther. His eyes were shut tight before the crash he knew was imminent, but it never came. A bullet caught him in the form of Herim Vasa.
He was awake… he knew because the save felt worse than certain death. Now he would have to live with this defeat, with Windel choosing the victor regardless of the outcome, with Ohndee surely satisfied – jealousy sated. Vasa knowing not how far he’d come, but how far he still needed to go. And Seren… of course the bane of his existence would know the battle was already won for him. All he would have to do is tail Ilfrid’s shider and claim what might as well already have been his.
Gone are the winds of Eres Dawn. All he could do was retreat and leave behind a message that hopefully Seren would one day see.
Chapter 27
Confessions
It was nice being a spectator, postponing shame. He could have stayed down there forever, wandering the depths of his esper, the memories of his father, grandmother, random beings in ages prior, living history within it. Anything but dealing with humiliation by Crow’s hand.
No, he couldn’t meander. At that very moment, somewhere far away, his body could’ve been in Ilfrid’s shider, surrounded by the people he cared about, all of whom were unknowing of what was following them.
“Seren, he haunts me above and he haunts me here. I have to face him, merge my essence with his to understand his motive, then go back and use whatever I can against him. Is he a cold-blooded murderer that needs an excuse to kill? Is it the secret that has driven everyone mad? Or is there something else entirely?
“Dee was right… I can’t just hate him because of what he’s done. I have to understand why.”
He considered jumping the misty ground wafting at his feet - the long-spanning, ever forking bridge that kept his shadowy essence grounded in Gushda. He could nosedive on a straight course for that icy cave where his father and Seren were nearly at each other’s throats. He could merge into him there, and learn the truth of it. Or… he could do something else. Something that’d been replaying in his mind since his last trip into the Eternal.
His gaze lifted to a sky of memories where different eras clashed together, literally and figuratively. Edges brightened like lightning with every crash - two formless animals fighting for territory, residue from battle, luminescent droplets, like rain or blood, that Eres held out his hand to catch. They didn’t make it to him, though… always dissipating, melting, zooming back up like it was raining upside down, and finally reforming to make the memory whole once more. These events seemed to exist as living beings in Gushda, or so Eres surmised.
He thought of the great philosopher - Apa Kernikus - and how he’d made sense of all of this – comparing it to things he already understood without losing his sense of amazement, because that’s what it was after all. Everything his ooma promised it would be, everything he never believed, it was all right in front of him, endless inflection of time and space.
Within it, Eres knew he could lift himself straight up as easily as he could walk in Rudo. Why stay grounded here? He’d already experienced limitless fear, humiliation of the highest degree, the longing for his father after finding snippets of him in Gushda, and even death. What was left to cower from? And with that, he shut his eyes and felt his quintessence lift from the center point, carrying his ethereal form up high.
Events were quickly coming closer... to his left were green valleys and dirt-colored walkways leading to a bundle of wooden twigs packed into the shape of a house. Part of him merged into it. He could smell spring in the air – budding flowers, pollen. To his right was all red – volcanos, lava, ash, a world where he would expect creatures of terrible sources to be resurrected. Hell.
Don’t be distracted, he told himself, upward. Keep going.
Again, eyes shut, his center of gravity rose through unending space like a crane hooked to his heart, past the smell of rushing waters, the feeling of mist tickling his face. Then blood, that familiar metallic taste swimming in his mouth, splashes of warm liquid splattered onto his face – war was all around him. He was tumbling through eras, pieces
of each sticking to him as he bowled past, moving upward.
Had his father shaped this plane for him? Living within it for years, decades, centuries of real time? He would’ve had so much time to build and reconstruct the layout, maybe even hide things from him. He couldn’t place why he’d thought of it now, but could it have been the case? Were there potentially truths that weren’t meant to be seen? Was he, Eres, on to something? Could Gushda guide his thoughts as well, maybe connect them with whatever his forerunners were thinking?
Or was he crazy? A mind always thinking, often wrong, curious, discovering after tripping and falling, and getting back up. Was this just another rendition of that endless cycle?
After various other experiences, after sensing a steel sword cut through his ethereal form, bullets whishing through him as if he were a ghost. After big arms hugged him gently… so many memories he floated past without him opening his eyes, tempted as he was. After he got past all of that… he still somehow continued to rise.
Then finally, before he was about to call it quits, before unhooking his heart and allowing himself to plummet, something happened. The sensation of his head breaking water for the first time. Did he just crash into another memory? He’d reached some sort of surface of an endless sea. It was time to open his eyes again, and when he did, it was as if he was perceiving life itself. Everything was so clear, colors more effervescent than other memories in Gushda, images sharper. He could see the smooth orb marking nighttime – a moon. Oversized leaves waved all around him, not from wind, but from the strange liveliness of the space.
Still half-submerged into the dirt like a growing plant, he climbed all the way through, deciding that this is where he was supposed to be.
He’d been here before… with Ohndee in Dundo-Ba. A place he rightly suspected possessed incredible Reach, some kind of haven for the Skrols. Why here?
His eyes traced the ghostly blue light until they caught something out of place - a blip in the distance - then squinted when leaves rustled in an unharmonious way. A glimpse of a wide-brimmed hat presented itself before disappearing. Eres glided forward, disregarding obstacles by floating through them, until he stopped short, his body frozen. That same fear as when he was beckoned by the man in Ozgulo. It was him. Seren. The bane of his existence, unaware that he was being watched.
How long ago was this? It was hard to tell since his face was so ageless, but his clothes were different, more outspoken, countenance not entirely as grim. Blades in hand were for… sparring?
This was his chance to merge with him.
But he hesitated. Maybe some truths were not meant to be known. What was he scared of? Was it that his entire journey might be thrown into question like Dee had eluded too? When the space around them began to tremble, mildly at first, but soon after the entire ground was bouncing up and down like the world would soon collapse. The opportunity was lost. Even though Eres wasn’t truly there, he still felt all of the event’s effects just the same as he felt all the other memories.
He cursed to himself, but Seren calmly peered up, knowingly, expectantly.
Then it came - the pale blue light quickly dissipating, everything darkening. Something enormous and all-encompassing was towering over them. It had the size and form of a dust storm in a desert. But whatever was coming was solid, yet stringy… a wall of vines.
Mustae, Eres thought, this is Reach of the highest level.
The familiar burst of an impeller sent Seren flying directly into the wall of greenery, and Eres zoomed to follow. He watched Seren fearlessly grab hold of one hanging string before tossing himself to the next, cloak flapping all around.
“I can feel you like I would an insect crawling up my leg.” The sound bellowed through the unfathomable wall.
“That voice,” Eres said aloud.
“I wonder,” Seren spoke back evenly, “do you Reachers feel when I shred your branches? Are they like arteries, tendons, ligaments?”
Slices came so fast that Eres could hardly register them happening. One, two swings, then a burst of wind, and with it a long dragging of his dull Crule infused blade severing branchy appendages as he went, sending them falling.
“The pain is nothing in comparison to what you’ll feel when this wall crushes you.”
“Fata…” Eres spoke. They were sparring, jesting with one another.
Another epiphany hit him during this insanity… could the voice that Crow heard be his father’s from beyond the grave? A message set to play? No… that can’t be it.
Eres chased and chased, knowing he would never have been able to keep up in the real. This was like him and Crow fighting, only on a scale of skill ten times the size.
Seren grunted as he flipped his blades to face downward in hand and began stabbing, climbing, barky residue trickling down around him like woodchips from a buzzsaw. Eres could feel the same intensity that he’d encountered back in the Scarred Lands, that unrelenting speed. Fluid, like a swimmer traveling vertically – front crawl intertwined into a backstroke – every few slams into the wall came with a low grunt… anything to get to the top of the mountain. And when Agden loosed a layer of vine above him, Seren used the wind again to send him flying. Scrrrrt his dull sword skidded before he continued.
Eres pulled back from being so close to Seren to get a better view and to find his father. A quick look to the floor made his ethereal stomach drop, and then he nearly broke his neck to find the top of the ever-looming wall. There, a figure atop it, mostly covered in darkness but he knew that face, that stature. He could recognize it anywhere. It was Agden.
He was drawn to him, floating effortlessly upward, while Seren gave everything to reach him in Rudo. The silhouette pulled back the closer he got. And finally, a much younger, less weathered version of his father swung his arms to direct his beast. Another enormous mouse trap sprung. Clap. Squash the bug, send Seren tumbling. Eres could almost feel the thoughts manifesting.
It drew him closer, until his form merged with his father’s for but a moment. He had no fear this time. Just excitement. This wasn’t life or death. They were of the same mind, he and his father. This was just sparring like he did in Kor.
And when Seren burst to the top with two scratched up blades in hand, hat down over most of his face, finally, he spoke.
“When this is done, even the Judicator will fear me.”
Agden strafed to the side, leaving Eres’ ethereal form behind, and Seren’s eyes on him for less than a second. It was enough of an interval to give him the feeling of having been exposed.
“You need to work on me first. I’m still laughing.” The whole ground trembled.
Crule clashed in a dance of two blades versus one. Eres was mesmerized. Wide spanning strikes from Seren, with close defense by his father. Then it switched – artful sways, not brutal blows. And when they separated to gauge each other, Eres found his courage. He charged straight for Seren to finally merge and find out what made this mad man tick. He felt a flicker upon being so close to him again, trauma from being so easily taken apart. And when he was about to merge, a golden outline may as well have been a brick wall, for he was repelled back onto his side.
“What…”
The whole memory froze in place, like he’d broken it. A glitch in a system.
“I’m blocked? Seren has the ability to block people even in memory?”
Before another thought could be had, the two duelers began to break away. The moon, the sky, all of it was tearing apart into nothingness. The scene was collapsing. What had he done?
Why would Gushda bend to anyone’s will? He thought. No one should have that privilege…
He we so close to finding some answers… so close. And then the rug was pulled from under him. The wall dissipated like a flock of frightened crows, and down he went. No ground to catch him, no will to steady himself, just back into the rawness of Gushda. He closed his eyes as he again passed through distinct memories – the smells, the feelings, blood, hugs, nature, wrath. And then nothi
ngness once more.
His plan was foiled. He would fall forever now.
Eres pondered in his endless plummet. In all of this time, Seren never once showed any signs of Reach, no connection to Gushda. He seemed to be like me – detached – only talents within the ordinary realm to guide him, grounded in Rudo. Could it be that my fata is the one stopping me? Is there something that he doesn’t want me to know?
Don’t be stupid, Eres. That would contradict everything. It’s probably one of Seren’s many espers that gives him this privilege. Fata gave his life for me. Stay the course.
And with that, he concentrated hard on the outside world – a mental picture of Ohndee. Nope. That didn’t seem to do it anymore. Too much resentment on both sides. He was still dropping in limbo. Then Windel came into view – that smile, that dimple, bright eyes full of life. The familiar tingle was prickling at his ethereal form, and before he knew it…
His eyes busted open in Rudo, mechanical workings all around him, his back supported, softness beneath him. A bed. Then the bottom of a cloth grazed over him, tickling his face and making him force air out of his mouth in surprise. He was in motion, as evidenced by a thousand hanging outfits swaying around him… he was in the room where they got dressed to attend the Colliding Spheres not long before.
“They knew I was in my esper. They probably brought me here so I could rest peacefully. Ilfrid was allowed to leave… that means he didn’t gamble too much at least. Who else was still with them? Did Ohndee come after their fight, their break-up? Or was she going to find her own way now. Did Windel go with Crow?”
Crow. That bastard beat me. I’m mortified. I belong down here.
Just then, the door slid open to reveal Herim Vasa’s unmistakable boots walking past some swaying dresses. The sight brought him right back to sitting cross-legged on Kor floors beside Windel, listening to grand lectures. But he digressed, watching her part the clothing like drapes and smile at seeing her former student awake. This was how he remembered her – her old clothes - proctor uniform.
