by Marc Mulero
The distraction worked.
Eres ignited his blade and jabbed it into Lasarius’ leg before getting kicked back by the other foot.
Lasarius swept himself back up, summoned fire, and cauterized the wound on the spot while screaming, no… laughing in the midst of it.
“I am of Sindus and Sorcery. No one can stop me!”
Just then, Wudon dashed forward with ghouls trailing him, Crow’s sword in one hand and Glite disc in the other. He swung wide with the ferocity of a prisoner aiming at his captor - because that’s what this was. Deep purple Crule was ignited to match the bizarre realm they were all combating in. Shink. The first met Lasarius’ blood dagger, then another swing made a whirring sound before finding metal once more.
Lasarius roared to announce his retaliation, which came in the form of a devastating cone of flame. The fire was so intense that it heated Eres face from afar, and surely would’ve burnt Wudon’s skin right off if not for Crow’s Glite unfurling within his grasp. Roots, bark, and other forest-like matter expanded wide to block the entirety of the blast.
Wudon is using Reach to manipulate the Glite. Genius.
In dashed Seren, seizing an opening, blade spinning like an electric fan. Clash, it stopped an inch from Lasarius’ head, thwarted just barely by a string of summoned fire held by both hands. Eres heard the Imperion’s blood blades topple to the floor.
Yes, he thought. We’re winning.
Seren Night swiped down hard, but Lasarius side-stepped, then sucked in to avoid being opened up at the belly, arms wide in a showy manner. He composed himself like a matador – one hand behind his back and one over his stomach, ducking another hit like he’d practiced this many times before, like he was born to have this dance. He spun away from another, flipped over another.
Then the tide turned – the Imperion stepped forward on the offensive. One kick snapped like lightning, then he feigned to thrown Seren off, followed by a crescent kick high toward the face, then a third low, ending with three midsection body shots within a second.
Eres found his moment once more, giving a two-handed swing that should’ve lopped off his head was instead traced as Lasarius arched his back to move with the swing at the last second.
Ridiculous.
Then Lasarius stomped his foot as a powerful wind summon that threw the three of them back – Seren and Wudon remaining upright while Eres tumbled.
“Ramillion and I will have our war, Seren Night. And it will not be silent. Do you hear me?!” Lasarius’ voice shook the space, projecting in all directions. “Once you’re out of the way… it’s over.”
Eres looked on at the Imperion, still holding his shoulder from that debilitating wound. In truth, he was waiting for this - a slip up. Of course, he didn’t want Seren Night’s story to be true. But when Proctor Wudon seemed to concede to it, reality was becoming grim. And now, Lasarius slipped. He said his true master’s name. It validated everything from three independent sources. It was true.
Fata. You wanted me to find my own way. This is it. I hope you can forgive me.
Eres abruptly sheathed his blade, closed his eyes, and fell into Gushda, his amber esper shining brightly.
Lasarius bared his teeth and disappeared.
“No,” Seren mouthed, caught off guard.
Windel lifted her head from the floor in dismay.
Crow was mid-run to stop it, as was Wudon.
But everyone, everyone knew it was too late when Lasarius reformed, grin deep with ferocity, face lit by his own Crule.
The blood dagger dug through Eres’ chest and was twisted for good measure.
Eres’ body jerked and his eyes rolled. He’d come back from Gushda to this, to a mortal wound. His expression was of disbelief, not because of the action, but from the feeling. That same cold sensation he’d experienced when reliving his grandmother’s death in Gushda, it trickled through him again. But once the shock subsided, he raised his gaze to his killer, then smiled.
“No,” Lasarius backed away, “you couldn’t have changed inheritance that fast.”
Wudon grappled both of Lasarius’ arms, snapping the Imperion back to reality.
“Where did you send it? Where!?” He squirmed to break free.
And then the double-sided Crule blade Lasarius had been deflecting all of this time thrust through him violently in return. Blood immediately shot from his mouth.
Seren retracted it and spun away, shaking his head at the mess, not bringing himself to look at the sorry sight.
Eres coughed, head bobbing from the wooziness. “You just couldn’t help yourself Lasarius, could you? You had to mention him. It sealed my fate. I am no longer faithful to the deceptive Kujin. My esper will be bequeathed to Seren Night now.”
Lasarius cursed under his breath as blood dribbled from his mouth. “No matter, as soon as the realm of Dumos is dropped, three hundred warriors will be waiting to end you. Ramillion will have his way one way or another. If not through me, then Kyta will be the next.” He glanced up at Wudon and Seren. “With you two gone,” he coughed, voice becoming hoarse, “there will be no one left to stand in his way.” He laughed. “There will only be one more to take. Lorfa.” He cackled again. “A senile old bag. You’re done. Done.”
Lasarius fell to the floor with unblinking eyes.
Chapter 43
A Fitting End
Windel ran over desperately, ignoring her wounds and sliding on her knees to get to him.
“Eres,” she called, staring into his eyes, her vision blurry from tears. “Eres, no.” She shook her head, watching his face begin to lose color, his eyes forgetting how to focus.
“Lasarius must’ve known.” Wudon stood over them, speaking to Seren in a pained voice.
“Known what?” Crow inched closer.
Everyone tentatively hovered over the hopeless situation.
“Eres’ esper was to be bequeathed to an ally of Ramillion,” Wudon explained, “as was intended by Eres’ father and myself.”
“Kyta.” Eres’ voice sounded strained to the point where it was almost unrecognizable. “It was to be bequeathed to her. I declared it in my Skrol Trials. Ramillion would’ve ended up with the Amrite esper had I not acted.”
Everyone looked down to him in dismay. The sight was horrible - blood leaking down his lip like drool, and every muscle on his face tense.
“She’s still good. Kyta hasn’t been corrupted yet. Don’t go to war with her. Save her,” Eres begged.
Wudon nodded and clenched his jaw. “Listen to me, Eres. Your father… he would be proud if he could see you now. You had the strength to let go of his beliefs when he, himself, could not.”
Windel quickly turned her head toward Wudon, tears flying from her eyes. “Why are you talking like that, like it’s already over?! We can save him!”
Seren Night only turned to look away.
“As soon as the Dumos shroud is dropped, and it will be soon, then we face the entire might of Kovella’s Quittance. The priority, unfortunately, is to keep Seren Night or myself alive now. Otherwise nothing will stand in the way of Ramillion forming the secret and using it for a war of epic scale.”
Windel turned away, back to Eres, sobbing, hugging him tight with her mouth near his ear. “I love you, Eres,” she whispered. “I always have. You were the good one. I was stupid not to try harder to hold on. I should never have let you go again once I found you. If you hadn’t become a Skrol, we wouldn’t be here now.”
Eres smiled contently at her declaration. It was all he wanted to hear after all. And whether or not his desperate brain fumbled her words into a dream-like confession, it didn’t matter, because to him, it was real.
“I’ve always loved you too, Windel.” He wanted to reach up and hold her cheek one last time, but his arms were already numb. His strength had already left him. Instead, he internalized her beautiful face. Even when she was crying and distraught, she was lovely, always possessing that quality that his ooma taught him about - grace.
She was grace in uemon form: her one defined dimple, flowing hair peeking through her bun, big brown eyes. And for some reason, Eres’ mind blocked out everyone else standing over him, everyone but her. And there formed the Kor gardens behind her, that miniature tree that he found her sitting under what felt like a lifetime ago. Like a forest fairy not meant to be found, Eres had been lucky enough to pluck her out, to dream of her, to nooch her.
“Do you remember when we had that lavish meal in the Colliding Spheres? When I had to act all confident to the waiter so they would seat us… how much fun was that?” She sniffed.
“I can’t believe you had to pay for us.” Eres chuckled weakly.
She laughed through her tears. “Well, I was the only working woman, slacker. Do you remember when I visited you in Ilfrid’s shider? Do you remember our kiss? I do.”
“What we could have been,” he said softly.
That did it. Those words broke her down just as they did then.
Her head fell onto his chest, shoulders bobbing, desperate sighs to catch her breath in between sobs. She didn’t want to lose him. Not yet. Not now. They were supposed to have a hundred more instances of finding each other throughout their busy lives.
But he was content. In a short time, against all odds, he lived. A sexless barren had lived like a normal person would.
One short year in Kor was filled with a lifetime of memories. Five long years in Elesion meant endless reading, gaining an understanding of the spheres from a new perspective, and meeting Ohndee. Then the adventures that followed. Years of them. Ilfrid, his second father. What a great goofy man, he laughed in his mind, which came out as a cough in the real. Instances with his fata, his ooma. He loved them both dearly, cherished them both, and realized something profound there, with one foot in the grave:
I guess adults can be blind too. They may not have seen the world with all of the answers like I’d hoped as a child. But in the end, I see how little it means, because Fata, Ooma, I know that you both loved me, and you did what you thought was right to keep me safe. And for that, I love you too.
In the end, he was a Skrol like he’d always dreamed. A master with the blade in his own right. A cunning strategist and a curious philosopher.
“Eres.” Wudon’s voice came through the cloud of bright lights and dreams that Eres was experiencing in his final moments. “May you wade through the sands of Gushda in peace. May you find Agden and Miyannas, my friends, without any trouble. And may you watch over us.”
Kind words in such a dark and menacing voice should have frightened Eres, but they didn’t. He knew Proctor Wudon was sent to be his guardian all that time ago, that he’d sacrificed himself so that Eres and the other Kor kids could find their way.
“Proctor,” Eres croaked.
“Yes, Eres.”
“Vindom Decalus is above us. Connect with him if you can. He’s in Ilfrid’s shider. He can get you out.”
Eres heard mumblings after that, hopeful tones from Crow and Wudon.
“It could work,” Crow said solemnly. “The Scarred Lands are barren for summoning, but you managed to project your voice to me. You can get it to the keeper too.”
Eres smiled. They will get out. Windel will be safe.
My love will be…
Chapter 44
Beyond the Skrols
Seren noticed that Wudon’s arm was trembling.
“What is it?”
“Espers…” Wudon’s voice started to quiver, “they allow for gates to be opened from Gushda into Rudo, if the wielder possesses Sindah. That’s what you saw with Lasarius. Ramillion must have taught him that the Elkar can aid him in becoming a conduit, to unleash a storm from Gushda into the real. The same is happening here through Dumos. This shroud is keeping us all out of harm’s way. But my grip is loosening… I cannot hold it any longer.”
Seren drew his blade to prepare for the worst once more. “Then?”
“I’ve communicated our exact positioning to Decales. Whether or not he heard, I do not know.”
Crow hooked Windel’s arm and tried to pry her off of Eres’ body. “C’mon Windel. We have to make our last stand. I know it’s hard. I know,” he kissed her forehead, “Eres was the best of us. Even if we didn’t see eye-to-eye, I recognize it now.”
Wudon drew Crow’s blade with his steady hand while holding his shaking one in front of him. “Prepare yourselves. The footsteps pattering beyond this realm seem endless. They must have been called here to Lasarius’ coordinates.”
Seren readied his stance. “I have a mind to bequeath these to Decalus before we meet our end,” he flashed his espers while looking over his shoulder, “or perhaps the Judicator.”
“Allies of Skrols are not Skrols, Seren. They could become lost in Gushda without strict guidance. Especially with our native rings - Ostara and Dumos. There is only one hope. One of us has to make it out.”
Windel’s crying in the background represented everyone’s concealed emotions at that moment, and when Seren eyed Eres’ finger as if checking his pulse, he knew it was done. The miniature branching vines that once connected Eres’ esper to him had retracted. The ring’s connection had been severed. It was really over this time. His soul had finally been released into Gushda.
Seren sighed as he turned and knelt beside the one too young to be taken.
“What are you doing?!” Windel shouted hysterically, trying to jerk free from Crow’s grasp. “Wha- stop it, you savage!”
Seren ignored her and instead whispered something with a hand on Eres’ chest. A prayer, perhaps? And when he was done, he waved his palm gently over Eres’ eyes to close them. Where the Dawn looked like he was in excruciating pain minutes prior, now he finally appeared to be at peace. Skin sallow without the burden of heat, eyebrows relaxed, a shadow of a grin frozen on his face - one of acceptance. That’s what Seren saw.
“Get off of him!”
He then removed the severed esper carefully, stared at it like a jeweler would a precious gem – its markings, the style that differentiated it from the rest – and when he was done, slid it onto his right ring finger to stack with another. It sprung to life immediately, tiny vines suckling to his skin, all validating Eres’ last words: that he’d changed his inheritor.
“Ugh,” Windel scoffed with disgust, “claiming your inheritance so soon, savage? Murderer. I don’t care that you helped us kill Lasarius!” she shouted, neck veins showing. “That doesn’t change who you are.”
Seren only rose with his face shadowed under his wide brimmed hat, height dwarfing her.
“We have been deceived, child.” Wudon glanced at her, variant eyes up close making her gasp. “Seren Night is not our enemy. As it turns out, after years of being hard adversaries, he was right.”
Windel shook her head defiantly, feeling as though she was the only one defending Eres’ honor.
“Windel,” Crow whispered, still holding her shoulders, “Wudon wouldn’t lie.”
Wudon came closer, scaring Windel and Crow both. “I envy you,” his eyes locked with hers, “to be able to express in such a way. I have an eternity of darkness that I manage. Can you fathom that? And still… this,” he presented Eres’ body, “hurts more. To see the kin of my closest friend, to see Eres lifeless before me when I perhaps could have done more…”
Now Windel saw it, that this man was not capable of lying. His presence was too dark, too foreboding, too pained.
Wudon took a strangled breath and straightened once more. “Prepare yourselves,” he repeated, “the shroud is coming down.”
“There are two doors that lead out of this room,” Seren stated.
“There will be a third.” Vindom’s voice boomed through Crow’s Glite disc. “Place whatever Reach elements you have in the center of you all. And when the shroud dissipates, look to the sky.”
Seren felt a pang of hope in his stomach, but would never reveal it. He glanced around, to Crow – who hoisted Eres’ body over his shoulder and swiped th
e crimson sword – to Windel, who covered her mouth with both hands in terrible dismay, and finally to Wudon. They locked eyes, both seeing old friends instead of current enemies for the first time in over a decade.
“We will make it through,” Seren said.
“We have to,” Wudon agreed.
Woosh.
The shroud surrounding them dropped like a curtain and hundreds of sets of eyes grew wide at the group who suddenly appeared before them. Who were they?
A collective gasp.
There he was: Lasarius, floor bound and long dead. That’s when the shouting commenced. The anger, the rage. This wasn’t just a ruler to these people, this was some kind of beloved family member, a savior, someone they truly believed in. This was bad.
Just before Seren and crew could be charged by all sorts of variant weapons, before they could be blasted to bloody pieces, Crow’s Glite disc expanded into a bubble of hardened bark that had the thickness of a one-thousand-year-old tree.
“Reinforce this barrier with me Wudon, like we once did in Kor, against this same enemy.”
Wudon took a long breath, still exhausted from holding the Dumos shroud for so long, but closed his eyes anyway and began pulling from the source. Bang. Another hard hit nearly shoved him to the ground, which was on top of the constant trembling within the cage becoming so violent that it felt like their heads were rattling. Shouting, explosions, swords digging in, all of it was right there… an angry mob of terrorists fully armed with one central target.
It was a glum scene, a panic-filled huddle with one thought - they would be dead in seconds, regardless of their Reach mastery. The scraping and peeling… it was clear KQ would claw down to the center.
“Crow!” Wudon bellowed. “Show me that you haven’t been twiddling your thumbs all these years. Help us!”
Crow shut his eyes, as internal layers began to form from the inside of their bubble, making the lot of them pack in closer together.
