by Marc Mulero
“Mm.”
“Alphonze Ren is a world traveler of great knowledge. Not a proficient fighter, however. But there are uses beyond slicing skin and crunching bone.”
“Noted.”
“Ilfrid, the Alliances’ most trusted and gifted pilot.”
“My pilots are aware,” Seren said.
“Yes. Well, I’ve just confessed mine and Agden’s unforgivable lapses in judgement throughout our tenure together. A mighty blow to his ego, to mine. But all will one-day settle. And when it does, he will become a friend, on Eres’ honor.
“Anyone else?”
“The girl.” Wudon’s voice was low.
“The blubbering one?”
“Have some respect. They are youths. And heart is a quality both of us could use on our travels.”
“Yes. Yes. I’ve traded blows with her. A youth of potential.”
“She is keen and will never be able to trust the Factions again after these past weeks. So, she will become yours, along with Crow. Nurture them if you are able, Seren. It will be in the Skrols’ best interest.”
“So, it is determined.” Seren arched his back to push off of the tree. “Are you sure about this, Wukaldred? We likely could do better together than apart.”
“I’ve thought a great deal about it. With only the two of us wielding espers after this, Ramillion can win. He can separate us, find new ways to break us down. It would not be wise, Seren. In my mind we only have two options:
“Those many rings that you’ve amassed, they are bound to you now until death. So, in that light, it is either you sacrifice yourself after we find new inheritors for each of these rings and I live on to teach them... or I perish and we form the secret, we know what we are fighting for, and we become stronger from it.
“The path is clear to me, Seren. It is in your own words that I find value - it is no longer possible to exist as blind puppets to a millennia-old secret. It’s time to learn of the Founder’s vision and make a new judgement. We are so far along now, after all. Three of us remain. Only three. The unthinkable has already happened. Thousands of years of separatist theory and Skrol solitude is undone. It is time to respect the years of success we had and rebuild in accordance with a renewed vision.”
Wukaldred peeled back the layers of his cloak to unfasten his underlying Glite disc resting at his chest. He then paced over to Lorfa and, with more care than one would expect from the Dumos wielder, gently fastened the Glite over her chest.
Seren clenched his jaw, realizing that the time was coming. The future was imminent. “You will do it, then?”
“You have enough burdens ahead of you, Seren. I will suffer these.”
“And her esper… you’re sure it is bequeathed to no one?”
“It was to be inherited by Eres. That I am sure.” Wudon sighed. “Prepare yourself, old friend. A new dawn is upon us.”
He then propped Lorfa up so she was comfortable, whispered something gentle in her ear and readied himself to code the insignia that would soon fade her flesh and bone to dust.
“I’ll ask you one more time, Wukaldred. Are you sure about this? We can combat him together. You said it yourself, two masters in our own right…”
Wudon only stared on, one dead eye and one live one. With his final words, he echoed an Umboro saying that carried him and Agden through all of their trials, Skrol and life.
“Crelomas o Skrols a tos secres nevorn dune.”
The ancient way of the Skrols and their secrets will never die.
“Ashen da,” Seren replied.
Chapter 46
The Brightness of Gushda
Seren watched intently, he forced himself to for every death he encountered. It was a matter of ritual at this point, respect for the dying. His own personal way of suffering, numb as he may have been.
He watched as Wudon traced over Lorfa’s heart with his finger. Sacred and distinct hand movements that could never be replicated by accident: the death trigger. Meant for Ludashed, but here used as a mercy kill instead.
The action was completely forbidden, against everything that either of them were taught, but it seemed the rule book was out the window at this point.
And if it were any consolation, she seemed at peace. Her eyes were closed as if somewhere deep down, with whatever shred of lucidity left in her being, she knew what was upon her. Her expression showed contentment, muscles relaxed, esper suddenly aglow in fuchsia pink. It must’ve been a cherished memory that she was going to visit one final time.
She was dressed in all black now – Wudon’s Glite – ready for her own funeral, her own goodbye to this world. It was a blessing, really, not to have to suffer any more loss in her old age. She would’ve had no more visitors, no more sanity, nothing left of what she was.
It was time.
And with that, her physical form began to phase gently into dust, starting at the center like an imploding planet. Only this was a much more tender happening, peaceful almost. Wudon’s hand lingered where it was once holding onto definite shape, where it now touched only air.
“Farewell, Lorfa. May no darkness find you on your journey through Gushda,” Wudon said his parting words. “And may our paths cross as I sail.”
Her esper dropped into the dirt when the deed was done, where Wudon nodded for Seren to retrieve it, to test to make sure that he was right. They had to make sure that there was no one left to inherit the esper which would therefore leave it up for grabs.
“Put it on, Seren. The last of your collection must be the Dark esper.”
Seren crouched, arms resting on his knees as he plucked the last piece of the Amrite esper – the ring of addiction – and stacked it onto the index finger where Eres’ esper also lay. It immediately bloomed to life, confirming that they were right.
Wudon nodded with a clenched jaw, knowing now that his time had come. Perhaps there was a hint of regret? No, this was more like a warrior coming to terms the moments before rushing into a losing battle. This was certain death. No one, not even the wielder of Dumos, could take his own life lightly.
“Remember my terms, Seren. They are ironclad.”
“I will.”
“Use the resources of our Skrol ancestors in there, use them to navigate you well to the Secret and back. Don’t be consumed by the darkness. Return to Rudo. You must.”
“I will, Wukaldred.”
“Drain the poison that is Ramillion Kesh.”
“You have my word.”
“Good. Farewell.”
Wudon ripped the Dumos esper from the chain on his chest, severing the dark vines that were connected to his veins and tossed it at Seren’s feet.
What was happening?
Seren took the esper in his palm, stood, and inched back after he saw ghoul-like wraiths scrambling from out of nowhere, forming up like they were hiding behind curtains and were now in the open, all circling Wudon.
He backed up more, lifting his foot when a ghoul nearly knocked into him to get by. His brow was furrowed with concern. This was not a peaceful way to go. But Wudon still stood unwavering, eyes closed, head tilted toward the sky in an offering for the All-Mother to take him now before he was pulled down under into Bura – the dark place.
The wraiths began to climb him; the elements around them began to rush into a vortex that shook Lorfa’s shack. An Ombes storm forming, here, now? And those dark wraiths… they weren’t eating his flesh, but rather just lying over him, covering him, blocking out any light so he would reside in darkness where he belonged.
Seren looked down at the esper, saw it still had a connection to Wudon, that he wasn’t dead yet.
The storm whipped faster, condensing into a smaller cloudy twister of dark purples and blues until finally, everything disbursed in a silent puff of mist. The wraiths were gone. The storm was gone. Wudon was gone.
Seren Night was once again alone.
He gave his word that he wouldn’t linger but he did take the time to stroll toward the forest toward Dol
seir, clutching Dumos tightly in his hand, feeling the vines clawing to attach themselves to him like a leech to skin. The exaggerated parts of his kingly mismatched Glite clinked ever so slightly under his brown half-cloak as he paced forward, one step at a time. This may have been the last time he would step foot in Rudo. He had to take in these moments. No one knew what the secret would hold. Well, Eres claimed to back in Lasarius’ chambers, but did he really?
Time would tell, Seren supposed.
“That Dawn should be wearing these, not me. He was the one meant to rebuild after all of this. Agden, old friend, you fool, if only you would have opened your eyes to everything I was trying to show you, your child would be here.” He looked up to the endlessly drifting trees. “You should never have given him your esper until all of our trials were settled. Talent does not correlate with intuition, friend. You taught me that by way of your actions.
“Still, we are on the same side against the enemy you didn’t know you had. And for that, here I go...”
Seren breathed in and slammed the Dark esper onto his right ring finger. A sound that resembled the deepest horn with the lowest pitch, the combination of instruments that disturbed the very waves of air within his vision, it could be felt pulsing through him. It was enormous. This collection felt like an inheritance from Mustae herself. Could this be what it meant to have an eye into Gushda? The Founder’s own power?
Seren was mostly an emotionless, sardonic being, so the calamity of change was lost in his expression, but he did feel it. Something that could only be described as adrenaline flowing through him at tenfold capacity.
How could the Founder be so powerful as to devise such laws and force? This was no ordinary man with a gift… not at all.
Seren breathed in deeply once more, scanning his surroundings to make sure this was the perfect place to take his inward trip into Gushda and then deemed it so. It was there, with his back leaning against a tucked away tree, that fifteen espers beamed to life across his fingers.
He closed his eyes as it happened, as his form passed through the vibrant tunnel that transferred him between realms. It was his ten thousandth time or so after all. No need to dizzy himself. And like a shider slowing its speed, Seren had arrived.
His home within Gushda was far more decorated than any others by comparison. If Eres’ coordinate was a run-down shack of memories and experiences, then Seren’s was a lavish city. Golden rimmed walkways of white vapor branched in many directions with many signs. Memories above were neatly stacked, rims color-coded by category.
He could feel what was inside each one just by peering at them. He wondered which esper provided that gift.
“There you are.” he looked far ahead, somehow able to zoom into the cosmos of the Eternal – another gift from a different esper – to see a black writhing squid with tendrils trying to fit through a hole too small for its body. “The darkness already peeks. Wukaldred was right. I best get a move on.”
He glanced down at his ethereal hands outlined in a golden light – the protection of privacy offered by the Ostara within Gushda, no doubt; it was the reason Eres could never break into Seren’s memories. Something was different from his last trip though. There was less opaqueness in his form, like he was fully colored in, and more energized too. The only thing he could compare it to was circulation and blood flow in Rudo. Where it might have been constricted somewhat before, he was fully alive now.
He passed many spiraled tunnels beside him along his path, each of which started with its own colored ribbon. More organization. Who would have thought Seren Night to be such a meticulous being?
Some shot upward, downward, diagonally, each leading to their own faraway section in the Eternal. Seren seemed to be an expert at keeping sane within infinity, just like the book had preached: Efanai Budai by Arguar the Third.
He was looking for something, analyzing each spiral cannon that extended far beyond where the eye could see. He possessed a strange intuition that greatly exceeded Eres’ down here. Well of course, he was more experienced. But it was beyond that, had something to do with having the entire collection of espers, perhaps. Either way, he knew where to go. He was beckoned.
There, right in front of him, the tail of a coiled tunnel flapped around like a serpent’s tongue.
“This is the one. To the Five Hearts.” He reached up for the white end with one hand and held onto his large hat with the other, Rudo habit, and then was suddenly thrust at an incomprehensible speed up the snaking pathway at a velocity that could only be imagined as soaring past planets in outer space. Stars that were once stagnant in place now had trails as he zipped by them. Fast. So very fast.
“This is new.” He looked down at the trail being left behind. There, something was traveling the same speed as he was. It had assumed a definite shape, another living thing perhaps. A dark one. It hummed like an old chanter that’d been smoking a pipe for a thousand years and stared on through a face with stitched eyes and a sagging mouth. “Dumos takes form, huh? What have you been living with all of these years, Wukaldred? Why were you so content with death?”
He huffed and turned his gaze upward once more to his destination - the secret.
And after what felt to be a few minutes, he abruptly slowed to a complete stop, his ethereal coloring catching up with him like paint thrown onto a neatly drawn canvas. He brushed the feeling of dust off of his sleeves and continued on, not even thinking to look back to the strange decrepit face following. If it was going to attack, it would. No point to pay it any mind otherwise.
“Of course the Founder would hide something so momentous near one of his own memories. Narcissist.” He focused on the happenings that he’d passed before, the ones with Princess Dorescle pointing onward, posts that were repeated many times like a trail of breadcrumbs that led to the memory of the Five Hearts meeting with the Founder in Okabin. Eres had been here before too. As a matter of fact, Eres thought he had collapsed the memory by trying to meld with the Founder himself but it was still there… Seren could see it bright as day.
That’s not where he was being taken, however. It was further ahead, beyond all of this, to where a body of what could only be described as translucent water began to swish around. A horizon of galaxy-like colors splashed about the backdrop like an abstract painting of the sea. It was beautiful.
Seren narrowed his eyes, floating over the bobbing liquid. “This is endless, I’m sure. Where are you guiding me, Dumos?”
He looked ahead to see nothing but flickering cosmos. It was peaceful here, unlike an ocean. There was no danger of drowning, or capsizing, or being swallowed. No storm culminating above him nor creatures lurking beneath, except for maybe some sort of devil that’d been following him, but that’s something he brought.
“Is this what the Founder did with his time? Did he sail the cosmos of Gushda using his eye?”
He kept floating over the liquid; all the way the horizon never got any closer, but the patterns of waves did start to change. Some kind of indicator of progress at least. When at the start of it all, this liquid was bobbing up and down, it was now swirling in patches, like there were many drain plugs being pulled at once all around him.
Still, no indication to stop. His instinctive compass was telling him that although he was close, he had to keep pressing on.
What was happening? Now the ‘water’ was beginning to shoot up into silent geysers like a fountain show, albeit an uncoordinated one, yet it still contained the harmony of the Eternal somehow, as did everything else.
Seren was careful not to get too distracted, however. He periodically touched a finger to a spot in time and space within Gushda, leaving a speck that only he could see, a drip of his own ethereal coloring to mark his path when traveling great distances, like a footprint. There was no other way to make progress out here except to be expertly meticulous. And that’s what he was. A very important trait needed to make sense out of this place as a mortal.
“And what do we have here?”
<
br /> In between many shooting geysers there was a sudden dip in the water, a caved-in section that felt very out of place, like a sand dune in the middle of the ocean, only opposite. Seren narrowed his eyes once more as his internal compass was going haywire now, sounding alarms, telling him that this was the way.
He stopped right over the halfpipe of liquid, staring down at it, considering it. What did he see? Three bright lights perfectly aligned beneath him. Starbursts of luminescence calling to him, seemingly altering the entire gravity of this vast body of nothingness. And when he moved closer, he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. A memory. And not an ordinary one either. This one was so unexpected that he nearly questioned his entire existence out here.
“Eres? How did you post something way out here? Alright, Dawn, I’ll entertain you.”
He torpedoed into the memory, where a blinking glacier came into view, and in the center of a twirling corkscrew was Eres himself, nearly frozen and dying.
“Whoever sees this memory, that means you are close to the secret, or at least what I believe the secret to be. That means you have the Amrite esper. Before I say anything further, I hope your intentions are true,” his voice quivered. “I hope you aren’t someone as rotten as the Skrol killer, Seren Night.”
Seren snorted and shook his head at the foolishness. “Off base, kid. What else?”
“Alright,” his voice trembled again, “meld with me, follow me to where I go.”
“Yes,” Seren seemed fascinated, “a trip into Gushda through a memory. I’m impressed.”
Seren was more experienced in melding than Eres had been, and merely had to reach out his hand to touch Eres in order to feel everything that he felt.
And so he was dragged to Eres’ coordinate, through Eres’ vision, through his essence.
“Okay,” Eres said. “I don’t have much time in Rudo. I’m about to die, as you saw. It seems I took a wrong turn in my Skrol training. Embarrassing, I know, but hopefully this redeems me. Let’s see.”
Eres zoomed onto a path that Seren assumed would eventually lead him to where his ethereal form was currently stationed. This was like a circular loop of events, or a spiral. Seren submerges into a memory within Gushda Memory leads to Rudo Memory’s owner in Rudo retreats into Gushda Memory’s owner travels to Seren’s location in Gushda.
