by Marc Mulero
“Feel like.” Eres coughed as he reacquainted himself with muggy air. “Was he being philosophical? Hypothetical? Well, if he wasn’t, then something went terribly wrong hadn’t it? I never came home.”
He looked up to the sky, leaves falling incessantly all around him while he wondered. Would he ever see them again? The UnderSpire felt like a utopian dream taken place in another time, on another planet. Well, both of those feelings were true, technically.
“Hmph.” He gathered himself, looking calmly down at his new –
Eyes grew wide with renewed panic.
“This Glite killed me! It froze me faster than I would have without any clothes at all.” He frantically coded the armor so it would retract into the disc onto his chest. As kingly as he may have appeared in pearly white scales, it wasn’t worth the loss of control. Not at all.
“You shocked me back to life somehow,” he spoke to it. “But holding a knife to my throat and then taking it away still makes you the bad guy. Whoever made this is my enemy.”
When it finally rewound, he couldn’t unhinge the disc fast enough. And just as he was about to fling it into the body of water behind him, something stopped him. An inscription:
“Esh iu alanto mech.”
“It’s in Umboro… ‘Now you have a choice.’” Eres spun the disc to the other side to see another inscription:
‘Lu lee oh sheshpu pouar.’
His mind felt like it was on fire. “’You are no… longer…’ what is that last word?” He tapped his chin. “Caged! You are no longer caged. What in Mustae is that supposed to mean? Is that you telling me I can think for myself now, Ram? Well. Here’s a thought - screw you!”
He flung the disc as far as he could so as not to be tempted by it again.
The action, although rash, symbolized a lot for Eres. He didn’t want to revisit his training, Verglas, the UnderSpire, none of it. Ever.
Even if Kyta and Mudry were his friends, they could’ve warned him what was really in store. Couldn’t they? Either way, Eres was too sore about dying to care right now. And so he faced forward – to the greenery, the endless trees - and decided it was time to check his live map.
“Where is that thing-”
Rustling.
“I didn’t lose it, did I?”
More rustling.
“Ah!” He unfurled the device his father had gifted him long ago. It looked somewhat faded, like it had broken in his bag. “C’mon, this thing is supposed to be durable! Otherwise Fata wouldn’t have given it to me.” He shook it until it finally flashed on.
Eres squinted at the blinking dot to make sure he wasn’t seeing things:
Ombes – Umboro Territory
Forest grounds known for its peaceful wildlife, colorful storms, and Kor. It is said that Ombes holds some of the richest fruits thanks to the high storms, for which its people are grateful.
66% Greenland
4% Mountain
30% Water
It was true - he was on the Osa Sphere. And what’s more - he was only a handful of miles out from Kor Vinsánce on its northern side.
“How? Why? I’ll never understand. Channels are sorcery-born. Ramillion, why would you send me back to where it all began for me? I thought I was supposed to live out my days in hiding.
“Wait a second,” he began to walk unconsciously toward his old school, “is this another test? A temptation… to see if I’m worthy?” His mouth curled into a defiant frown. “Well I’m not buying it. I’m no longer caged, right? I know what I have to do.”
He marched on, his fingers and toes still tingly from loss of blood for who knows how long. But it didn’t stop him. Nothing would now. Eres was determined to see all of those he had left behind – those who fought to get him out of Elesion, who helped him even though he was a sexless barren, a stain on society. Soon after he was hopping again to cover more ground until, finally, he saw it.
The tips of the three towers up ahead made his heart flutter, making its way to his ears. It was nerves. Even after all that he’d been through. Death, for Mustae’s sake, still didn’t trump these childhood memories. Meeting Day. Crow’s bullying, Swuls intervening, Eres standing his ground…seeing Windel. It was an explosion of nostalgia, like his own personal Ombes storm bursting from within.
“I miss it. From that very first day to the last one when I helped save Kor only to be condemned by one of its agents. Proctor Hundul, you rotten Generations radical. I can’t help that I’m sexless. And I won’t apologize for it again. You ended my time here early.”
He thought of Wudon’s teachings, night class, being shut into that haunted house of a torium in the dark. He remembered trying his hardest to ignite flames from wood just by merely thinking it. Not for him. Still though, it was one of the most mysterious experiences he’d ever had.
“Joodah,” Eres recalled, “my big oaf of a ‘friend,’ there for me when I thought Windel had betrayed me. How backward I had things then. Life lessons, right?” He laughed to himself, closing his eyes to picture it fully.
Before he knew it, Eres was walking up to the massive three-pointed structure that was Kor Vinsánce. “The Practical Wing,” he looked at the vines crawling up from the floor, then swept his gaze to the right, to the ornate and pristine setting giving opposite vibes, “Academic Wing, and the Elite Wing holding it all together in the center. Beautiful.”
He took a long breath in while reminiscing, and then looked down to the immaculate Kor grounds. Flawlessly trimmed grass pathways, endlessly drifting vibrant green leaves, the perfect amount of gravel, First Years chasing each other, playing on this glorious day. It was perfect. Like an invasion had never happened, like it could never happen.
“Glad to see everything is back to normal. Kovella’s Quittance couldn’t tear you down.”
As he approached to get a closer look at its massive intricately-inscribed doors, he noticed others were looking at him funnily, even cowering.
What did he look like?
Sure, he was prettier then – more delicate features, amber eyes that probably looked bigger or more innocent in a flawless face. And even though he was still thinly muscular now, back then… well. He was a scrawny nothing, and remembered idolizing Crow for being so intimidating even though he too was thin.
All dust in the wind. Now Eres was taller, had filled out slightly, enough, handsome. More boyish than girlish at this point. His face had mostly healed bruises, a few small scars - nothing that said disfigurement, but also nothing that said innocent either. One might even confuse him as an adult. Maybe he was an adult.
“Oh shit,” he realized, touching his face. “My marks are exposed.” He’d been in Verglas so long that he forgot that his natural form wasn’t accepted here. “Don’t need the Factions after me again. For all I know they still think I’m wasting away quietly in Elesion… if Ilfrid did his job that is. Alright.” He sighed, touching his hand on the cold stone. “I guess it’s time to say goodbye. I have an ooma to see anyway.” He smiled to himself, appreciating the moment for the first time in what felt like forever.
And just as he turned away, he saw a few supervisory proctors turn from their children and look at Eres curiously.
Crescent moon robes… he remembered those. A few more heads turned, some kids hanging onto the bottoms of the proctors’ cloaks while pointing at the Dawn.
“Uh oh, it seems I gathered a bit too much attention. Okay, okay, I’m leaving.” He waved peacefully, as if to say “I know.”
The Kor’s giant bell donged from the high center of the Elite Wing. Yellow swirly spirals of what appeared to be dissolving ribbons shot from the open circular window high above them. Eres remembered, of course, that was opening bell. But it didn’t seem like the right time for it.
He peered up curiously, as did everyone else.
“A distraction?”
And just as he said the words, an arm was around his shoulder dragging him inside.
“Decalus felt your presence from the
ground.” A familiar voice spoke.
Eres first looked at the heavily decorated fingers hanging around his neck. Rings from all parts of the world. Then to his right, a tangle of tightly wound red and black hair.
“Alphonze!” Eres almost shouted at Proctor Ren. “I owe you my lif-”
“Shh, sh, sh, sh, my boy. Quiet now. It’s great to see you too, more than you know. Come. Mustae, I should throw paint on your face to hide those beautiful stripes.”
“I think I’m done hiding. I’ll be on my way if I’m still not welcome.”
“Not welcome?” Alphonze pointed upward.
Eres forgot how massive and powerful the inside of Kor was – the endlessly rotating staircases, carved walls, bookcases, bridges. But Proctor Ren wasn’t pointing to any of that. A banner.
“Saviors of Kor Vinsánce,” it read. And the picture was of Eres, Crow, Windel, Nuganzia, Teros, Proctor Vasa and a few others he didn’t recognize.
Eres’ ‘T’ marks weren’t showing of course, because that would be against Faction law, but it was still something.
“Not welcome,” Ren repeated, nearly laughing through his words. “Your heroics saved everything about this place. And more.”
“And more?”
“Much more,” he whispered. “This way. Come.”
Ren made them duck somewhat since it was in between classes and only off-duty proctors were really roaming around.
“You look different, Eres. Like you’ve completed what you set out to do. You look like the others that I have met over the years. You are a Skrol now, aren’t you? Yes… I think you are. You have that intensity in your eyes, even if you don’t want to show it.”
“I am. But I won’t be like the others you’ve met. That I can assure you.”
“Brilliant.”
“Alphonze?”
“Yes?”
“I never got to apologize.”
“Oh come off it.” They both stepped onto a rotating spiral that transported them higher. “You didn’t hold a blade to my throat and say ‘Charge Elesion or else!’”
“But you could see how I feel responsible, right? You were chasing after me.”
“And you could see how I felt responsible. I, a world traveler, pick one lonesome place to settle because of the promise that it brings. A place where I can share my experience, for the good of ulmanity.” He used his hand to present the grandness of Kor. “Then to watch the injustice… you, a hero, a savior, be hauled away like some detestable criminal? Stripped from the very home you fought for?”
He nearly spat on the floor. “If it wasn’t for Vindom, Herim, and a few of my other peers, I would’ve evacuated the place and burnt it to the ground. But then I thought: it’s not all bad. No. There will always be people at odds. Always. Am I going to burn everything I disagree with to the ground?”
Eres hooted. “That would be dumb.”
“Right! Then we would be no better than Kovella’s Quittance – standing for something by harming those who have nothing to do with it. Pfah!” This time he did spit. “Instead, I’ll fight for what I believe in - for the rights of Dawns - using other means. And I started by trying to rescue you. Windel…”
Ren tapped his chin. “Yes, that’s right. I got your apology. She gave it to me in prison. Lovely girl, that one. She was in the ship with me, you know. Cares about you very much.”
“Ugh.” Eres meant to sigh in his head.
“What?”
“Nothing. I just meant that… well, I thought everyone had given up on me when I was in Elesion, and it’s nice to know that I was terribly wrong.”
“Yes, terribly.”
Proctor Ren finally unhooked his arm from around his shoulder.
“Vindom’s quarters?”
“Oh yes. Remember when you burst through the open window ready to fight our attackers? How valiant. Born to be a Skrol.”
Eres pursed his lips. He remembered killing someone that day, that’s for sure. And the fear of nearly being blasted bloody. His body recounted the experience too, apparently, because a dull ache in his stomach made him suddenly want to curl over.
“Adrenaline kind of took over.”
“Yes, when instincts hurl you into the face of danger instead of away from it, that’s the mark of a hero, wouldn’t you say?
“I guess.”
“Hmph.”
Eres followed Ren’s gaze to the enormous piece of wood blocking anyone from going further, and then stepped back when it began to splinter open, branch by branch, making cracking sounds until a space just large enough for the two of them beckoned them forward.
There was Vindom Decalus - the Kor’s keeper - rising to stand straight over a table displaying a very large live map.
“Eres! Vindom said he felt you here, but I couldn’t believe it!” Vasa was overjoyed. “You made it through your trials.”
“I did,” he smiled, thinking of their chat in Ilfrid’s shider, “but I didn’t know if I was ever coming back to be honest.”
“Yet here you are.”
“Here I am.”
“Ehem,” Vindom coughed. His deep green robes swished as he walked over. “We are with you Eres, ever since that day you were taken away. I hope you can forgive us.”
Eres was about to open his mouth to say something but Vasa began speaking.
“I hope you can forgive me for not telling you at the Colliding Spheres or when we were alone. I didn’t want to distract you from your journey into Verglas. But we are part of your journey now, behind you, with blades drawn.”
“Are you saying…” Eres narrowed his eyes.
“Yes,” Ren said. “We are part of the Alliance. And while you were discovering Skrol history, what it means to be yourself and much more that we may never understand… we were discovering what we could about this Silent War.”
A shadow of a smile formed on his face. “So I’m not alone.”
“Never.” Vasa’s face hardened.
That coldness Eres had been feeling, lingering from Verglas, all just melted away. He missed the Osa Sphere. It was better, even with all of its flaws.
“Finally, a veil has been lifted. Someone decided to pull me out of the dark. Well, I’ve been away for a while,” Eres motioned to the marked-up map, “please, catch me up.”
“Certainly.” Vindom dragged his finger toward various black tokens scattered around the southeast side of the Osa Sphere. “These are the last known prints of Seren.”
“Prints?”
“Yes. Using Reach, we’ve been able to identify him and pick up traces if he stays stationary too long in an allied Reacher’s vicinity. Like fingerprints. Long-time colleagues of mine have been risking their necks by doing this, at my request. It is a dangerous ask Eres, you see, because wherever he goes, there is quite the army close by. Anti-Reachers included.
“Faction forces still haven’t been able to make progress?” Eres questioned.
“They always seem to be a few steps behind,” Ren chimed in.
“Ilfrid said that Seren has almost everything he needs, all of the espers except for a select few. Mine included.” Eres thought of mentioning his ooma’s too, but then thought better of it. That was his secret to keep. “Is this true?”
“That is our understanding, Eres.” Ren placed his hands over the map. “I’m the most versed in esper theory here, but that’s not saying much since I have zero direct contact. However, based on my octor footage of Seren Night, I understand he has all documented rings except the one that shines blac-”
“Wudon’s.” Eres interrupted.
“Yes, yes. Also the one that shines amber.”
“Mine.”
“Mhm. The one that shines pink...”
Ooma’s.
“…and the one that shines blue.”
“Blue… where have I seen that before?”
He cycled through his thoughts, back to the Northern Grottos, to that dreadfully desolate cave of rushing water and crystalized grapes. Yes, he reca
lled, Ressa Noe Donnus, that goofy girl who’s connected to the Imperions somehow. Her esper was blue. Who is the source though? Which one of the Five Hearts? Xellious, I think. Yes, that’s it.
“The Elkar esper,” Eres finally said. “That’s what he’s chasing.”
“Yes,” Ren confirmed, “but I know nothing more than whispers of its name.”
“Apparently it makes you hallucinate,” Eres recalled Ressa saying. “But even if I don’t know why, I do know that each of the five original espers had its purpose with respect to the Secret. Wait a second…” Eres eyed the map. “Can you trace the last known locations of Spera Noe Donnus?”
“The Imperion?” Vasa asked loudly. “What could she possibly have to do with ancient Skrol matters? She’s a judicial leader of the Factions.”
Eres stalled, wondering if it was safe to blurt out all that he knew. “I found access to some old recordings of prior generation esper wielders, one of whom may have been related to Spera.”
The other proctors looked sideways at one another.
“What?” Eres caught on.
“If Spera was involved in any way, that would be treason of the highest accord,” Vindom said. “She’s beloved, Eres. A great example holding the Factions together. Suggesting she may have inherited something of this magnitude is a very dangerous accusation.”
“Just for having a possession?”
“An undocumented one, particularly of mostly forgotten ways of life,” Ren replied. “None of the Imperions can practice the dead arts – Reach, Sorcery, or Worship. It would defy the order they have created through Tech.”
“They’re not allowed to believe in religion?” Eres seemed shocked.
“Didn’t you pay attention in Factions class?” Ren joked. “They are free citizens, but must relinquish certain focuses to serve the Factions at that level.”
“Well I’m not here to accuse her, but can we get her locations or not? This may be a clue. If there’s a correlation we may be able to predict Seren’s next move.”
Ren paced, rubbing his chin. “You know what, I’ll be right back. Perhaps one of the Governmental proctors can gain access to her itinerary.”
