by Marc Mulero
Crash.
Something big just happened outside, above, like the entire ceiling of the fortress had been shattered and was now opened. Well, that’s what the muffled noise sounded like, at least. Then immense pressure unexpectedly compressed right over their heads, nearly caving in the bark sphere and making everyone duck in fear.
“What just happened?” Seren asked.
“Now hold on!” Vindom yelled back.
And just like that, everyone lost their footing, knowing immediately that they were being hoisted off ground. The bark shield swayed back and forth like a wrecking ball while still being endlessly ransacked. Seren could tell there were a few KQ soldiers still hanging on by their swords, screams so close telling him so.
“I know that noise,” Windel said, looking up. “That’s Ilfrid’s shider. I can hear all of those trinkets banging around. There’s no mistaking it.”
She was right. She had to be, because one by one the screams fell further and further away. Whoever was clinging on must’ve let go due to the height. And soon after, there were no shouts at all, not below or anywhere. No more protesting terrorists, just the sound of heavy winds dragging them consistently in one direction.
They were saved. The war wasn’t lost and Eres’ sacrifice was not in vain.
Windel peered down at Eres again, waiting for him to jolt awake, for him to ask what he’d missed, pat his stab wound, groan, and say that he’d be fine. She kept waiting for that to happen. And for every passing second that his body just lay still, tears welled up in her eyes.
“Oh Eres.” Her voice was hoarse.
“He rests with his parents now.” Wudon comforted the best he knew how. “They will sail throughout Gushda and await our coming.”
“How can you be so sure that he’s not lost and alone, like he’d been for so long here?” She sobbed.
“Because,” his dead eye glinted, “I would know if he became part of the darkness.”
Crow kept an arm wrapped around her shoulder, not really sure of what to say, knowing he was terrible at consoling her but trying his best anyway. He figured he’d let the silence between them linger, to let her cry it out. Yes, that would be best.
Seren too ignored the solemnness, probably numb to it from experiencing so much death in his life. Instead, he inspected Lasarius’ esper.
“Do you want it?” He held his open palm out to Wudon.
“The Elkar,” Wudon said. “I didn’t even see you swipe it.”
“Second nature at this point, Wukaldred. I see espers before I see people.”
“Hm, an existence of misery that rivals even mine.”
They both glared at it – its widely curved engravings and deep blue coloring waiting to pulse to life, calling out to them.
“You surmised that he hadn’t picked an inheritor?”
“Heh,” Seren pulled the tip of his brim down slightly, “you and I both know Ramillion would never accept it. That troll wants to live forever. Just the idea of someone having to pry a ring from his rotting finger makes him shiver with fear. He wants the secret, Wukaldred. He wants someone to shoulder the responsibility and sculpt it for him.”
Wudon groaned. “It’s still so hard to imagine him being behind all of this…”
Seren Night raised his head slightly, judging if Wudon still had doubts.
“But it’s true nonetheless,” he conceded, and then shifted his gaze back to the lingering esper. “Legend speaks to odd visions through that one. Seeing the world through a different lens.”
“Can’t be any worse than yours.” Seren smirked. “Take it.”
Wudon pushed the offer away with the back of his hand. “We have much to discuss once this is all settled, Seren. Decisions must be made.”
He only grunted in response.
“Um, how much air do we have in here?” Crow looked around nervously, realizing how tightly wrapped he’d made the enclosure.
“I’d say less than a few minutes,” Seren didn’t even flinch, “but I’m sure you two could unmake it if you had too.”
Thump.
The four of them jerked in place to maintain balance. They’d just landed, for sure.
Another thump - this one was much louder than the last, accompanied by the powering down of the shider. They must’ve finally made it out of the Scarred Lands and to somewhere safe. Hopefully, anyway.
Next came the pattering of quick footsteps and Ilfrid’s muffled voice.
“Get outta there, you guys. Eres, I want to show you something that you were in too much of a rush to see before!” Ilfrid sounded excited.
Everyone’s heart sank.
“Hey! Will you weird Reachers unpack this thing or something? Eres, you have to see this old outfit I found in the closet. You’ll get such a kick-”
Silence from the inside.
Everyone could hear the bark crackling like twigs being snapped. Wudon shut his eyes and rotated his palm as though he were unscrewing something, helping to unwind the enclosure, no doubt. Finally, a peep hole began to unfurl like a camera’s aperture. A rush of fresh air smacked them, the sight of forest all around them.
“Eres! Come!” Ilfrid’s voice was now clear, face all smiles and excitement. “I know, I know you guys probably had a crazy adventure in there. There will be time for that later, but this, oh you’re going to love it, Eres. It’s-”
Once the hole was large enough to reveal everyone inside, Ilfrid’s face drained of its color. “You.” He suddenly seethed, eyes on the murderer they’d been combating since the beginning.
Wudon quickly stepped out and in front to block his vision. “Ilfrid…” His voice was dark and ominous.
But the pilot saw none of it, because regardless of his confusion, there was one plaguing question ringing in his mind. Why hadn’t he heard Eres’ voice yet?
“Windel.” He registered her, the tears in her eyes. “Crow,” he looked to them, “what are you two doing… oh,” his breath suddenly caught in his chest. “Eres!” he yelped, nearly knocking everyone to the floor to get to him.
“Eres! Wake up. Oh my Mustae, this wound is… Eres! My boy!”
Windel gasped as though she was reliving the nightmare yet again, and where Crow didn’t know how to react properly before, the sight of a grown man in such immediate jarring despair made his eyes glassy for the first time.
“Oh Eres, no, no, no.” He cradled his pale face, the lifelessness in his expression, his chest unmoving. His face scrunched up with emotion, not at all knowing how to process it all. “We had so much more fun to have, Eres. So many more adventures. An Alliance to rebuild. My boy, how? How!?” He glanced around at everyone and received nothing but grim silence. “God, no-”
He sobbed and looked back at Eres, pretending that he was just unconscious, desperate. “I-I, look at this Eres.” He held up a ridiculous dress suit with ruffles that lined across the torso like colorful chest hair. Isn’t it funny, Eres?” He wiped his nose. “I couldn’t wait to show you when all of this seriousness was over.”
Windel looked away sharply. This was too much. Too sad. It brought her right back to when Eres was very much alive and the lot of them would joke around together in Ilfrid’s shider.
Once emotion overcame him, Ilfrid finally collapsed over Eres, shoulders bobbing, face red and buried near the wound, crying so violently that he shook Eres’ body.
And there, he wept.
Chapter 45
The Decision
Days later, near an old shack in the midst of Dolseir, beside some trees with endlessly falling leaves, stood Wukaldred Donn, Seren Night, and Lorfa. They solemnly faced three plots of dirt where headboards of braided wood stuck out. Tombstones in the Umboro world. Likely a Reach concoction made by Wudon, beautifully articulate for someone of such dark tidings. They were for his friends - Agden, Miyannas, and Eres, so they all could rest together in peace.
Lorfa could never bear to create one for her daughter, and would likely not have the strength left to withst
and the death of her grandson had she been of sound mind. But alas, she was now as gone as the three buried, stricken with a limp mind of wild imagination and no clarity, nearly ready to leave Rudo herself.
“An entire lineage wiped from the spheres.” Wudon’s scraggly hair fought with the breeze to not move. “For a war none of us understood. No one but you, apparently.” He looked to Seren, whose face was still mostly under the shadow of his hat.
“Misdirection can be powerful, Wukaldred, especially when combined with such a strong willingness to deny.”
“Don’t patronize me, you null swine. I can still bury you in darkness with the snap of my fingers.”
“You’d have to catch me first.”
They both sneered like old rivals.
“In all seriousness, there was good reason that no one understood.” Seren found a bare tree to lean against and folded his arms. “They controlled everything. Ramillion pulled the strings from a sphere away with all of the ancient world in his pocket. Who would ever believe one of the oldest Skrol allies to be their enemy? No one, Wukaldred. No one.” He flicked the tip of his brim. “Then came the mysterious orphan with little background and undying amounts of talent. Who would suspect an Imperion? Having a spy at those heights would cause distrust at a systemic level. Lasarius, he used all power at his disposal: the might of the Factions, sway over its citizens. It’s easy to weave a narrative with such power. What better way to sway the public than to make me, the only one on their tail, appear as the sole threat to Faction safety, as a murderer among Skrols?”
Wudon growled. “Agden believed with such certainty that you were wrong, that you were somehow circumventing the laws of bequeathal by murdering the Skrols and stealing their espers. He was so sure, so willing to commit, that he abandoned life itself. His time with his family, gone. His Faction Alliance, relinquished. He gave up everything to bet against you.” He paced. “I remember the day he became boundless, when he thought that there was no way to catch someone without limits unless the chaser shed his encumbrances as well. For the good of the Skrols he would thwart you, Seren Night, with my help. He’d stop you from amassing the secret and ending a covenant that’s been in place for thousands of years.”
“Yes,” Seren sympathized, “I can’t imagine the gravity of such a tragic misstep. Your perspective must be harrowing, friend, truly. I am not mocking this time around either. Though I am glad that you’ve finally caught up.”
“What evidence did you show them? How did you convince the others? How did you even find them? Agden told me about the octor recording, long ago. He was so sure you’d doctored it. ‘When you duel a man, you know his intentions,’ he would always say, convinced. You were supposed to be the root of this evil, not him, not Ramillion.”
“It would have been more convenient for the spheres, yes.”
“But it is not so. Remind me of this evidence.”
Seren caught a leaf swaying past him. “A conversation between Ramillion and Lasarius that should have never been heard. I have it in a safe place if ever you’re curious, or you can see it in my Gushda posting, depending on how this conversation ends.”
“Yes… our decisions that must be made.” Wudon growled.
“Three espers wielders remain.”
“Only three.” He snarled. “Sacrilege. The Secret hasn’t been this close to being revealed since the Five Hearts were assembled in Okabin.”
“What will we do?” Seren raised his head enough to lock eyes. “Reform the Skrols in our image? Fight Ramillion in new ways?”
“Perhaps,” Wudon pondered, “but perhaps it is time to know what we are protecting. I’ve always thought about it, in truth, but excused these considerations as nefarious temptation.”
“You seek to form the Secret.”
“I consider it,” Wudon swung back to look at his friend’s grave, “but even a man as dark as I suffers guilt.” He looked to Lorfa, who was muttering quietly to herself, calmly at least.
“Which one of us, then? Shall we let fate decide? A fight to the death? A game of chance?”
Wudon chuckled. “Ending my life is not the same as ending yours. I manage the darkness of eternity, Seren. If I were to perform Ludashed, I would be happily retiring a burden long since shouldered. And as for you… hmph, inheriting this darkness would not be considered a ‘win’ after any bout or game we decide to play. That, I can assure.” His long cloak billowed as he paced with his fists crossed behind his back. “Besides, as much as it pains me to admit, I was wrong and you were right. The Alliance was fighting itself unknowingly this entire time. Our leadership was faulty, our skepticism misplaced.” He trailed off. “However, if this event of enormity were to occur by our own devices, I would have terms that you would unfailingly adhere to.”
“Mm.”
“Unfailingly, Seren. I mean it. I have havens to haunt you in Rudo or Gushda, regardless of my physical presence. You would be wise to remember that.”
“A threat?”
“A promise.”
“Well,” Seren gestured to Wudon, “let’s hear it then.”
“You will comb through Eres’ octor and his posts in Gushda. You will adhere to his will and take his thoughts into consideration. The boy was a genius of curiosity and a beacon of innocence, Seren. If you are to remake the Skrols, if you are to keep sane after learning the secret, you would be wise to hold his standards close to yours. Do you understand?”
“I respect the Dawn’s legacy. Eres was willing to cut the strings where his father wasn’t. You have my word. What else?”
“When you form the secret,” Wudon cleared his throat, “I suspect based on all of my studies of the Founder that the espers will die. You will need to reform them using Reach, of which you have none.”
“You would need someone at Agden’s level. That exists nowhere,” Seren said plainly.
“Oh, but it does.” Wudon’s eye glinted. “Crow, the orphan boy who found me even in a Reachless confinement, he possesses such strength, and was rightfully guided to Kor Blue to nurture it. Hear me, Seren, the one who will aid you in reforming the espers and the next inheritor of Dumos will be him. Seek out the Judicator for the proper directions and invite Crow for the summoning.”
Seren spread his arms and said, “Less on my conscience if you want to be the one to condemn another young mind to the trials you’ve faced. Done.”
“Ramillion may have turned evil, but that does not dismiss his greatness when he was good.”
“What are you getting at?”
“His assessments of you, of course.” Wudon waved his hand at Seren like an art collector presenting a faulty piece. “You needed the Ostara, the light, which means only one thing…”
“We are not novices playing training games any longer, Wukaldred.”
“You will adhere to my terms,” he reminded sharply.
“Then on with them.”
“Ramillion’s point then, and mine now, is that the darkness will consume you. Do not dally once you have my esper, for you will succumb to madness quickly. I promise.”
Seren scoffed. “A bit dramatic, no? I didn’t know you were one for theater, my dark prince.”
“There is a reason the Founder chose Ei Shetana, a reason that my esper ancestors are seldom related by blood. We are a specific type of twisted, Seren. Not of frivolous deviousness, no. Our roots are poison, rotten, and we had the propensity to accept that, which is why we can exist within such hell. You will go mad, Seren, and risk the entirety of what we’re trying to accomplish.”
“So then you carry out the mission if you are so sure of my pending failure.” Seren flashed all of his espers in offering.
Wudon shook his head. “You are very much like Agden’s kin. Perhaps it’s a Dawn’s trait, who knows? But I’m certain that I don’t possess it - that ambition to dig through the very last morsels of sand to find what lies beneath. Look at Agden, willing to commit to beliefs without digging deep enough. He didn’t have it. Look at me,
willing to follow a friend into his deepest mistakes out of loyalty. I was a fool. You, on the other hand, proved to possess something different.
“We are masters of what we know, Seren. So, if we are going to go through with this, then we have to trust in our strengths. I can sense your fear now that the reality of the secret is within reach.” Wudon inched closer, palm held out, swirls of dark matter forming and fading within the air around him. “You know of the Founder’s history the same as I do. You may grow old in an instant, die a withering, pathetic death. And then again, you may not.
“So, tell me, do you think with this lingering fear that you conceal oh so well, that it would be wise to dwell with the Dumos esper? It will feed on you like a Seayark on live bait.” Wudon spun away once more. “It’s all hitting you now, isn’t it? The prospect of having to hobble through the Factions in desperation, to find a group worthy to wield the secret again. To repeat ancient history. Yes, Seren. That may very well be the price of knowing.”
Seren Night was silent, expression of stone and marble. It was true. He’d been chasing this whole time, discovering truths and knowing he was on the right side through all of it, against the odds. But what happens now, at the finale, when means finally develop into an end? A frightening prospect. He didn’t realize there would be such a rush to dive into whatever it was that the Founder hid for millennia. After a strong inhale, however, he finally came to terms.
“I will adhere.”
“Good.”
“Is it settled, then?”
“It is.” Wudon kept his back to Seren. “Vindom Decalus is a good man. Although he was never privy to our ways, he knows much of the Factions and even more of Reach. Allow him to aid you once you return from Gushda with the secret in tow.”
Wudon took Seren’s silence as acceptance.
“Herim Vasa… her blade skills could very well rival your own.”
“I’ve seen her fight in the Colliding Spheres.”
“Take my endorsement of her loyalty into highest of consideration. Be wise, Seren.”
