by R. Brown
The day was warm, the sky, blue. Trees of vermillion, orange, violet, and green leaves fluttered. They were happy.
Steven trailed behind her, bearing a backpack full of food and small fishing pole for Christie. The smile painted on his face disappeared as he shouted at her to stop at the river’s edge.
A loud crack, like that of thunder, smacked the skies above. Her heart stilled as she saw the sky filling with dark, churning clouds.
The trees swayed, surrendering to the strong breeze that whipped them. Steven, who’d come to a stop beside Ashlyn, took her hand. “Can’t be a storm. The skies were clear a second ago.”
The wind grew colder, pushing away the warmth of the afternoon sun. The sounds around them evaporated. Ash could see the swaying trees, the brush—and yet, the world was silent.
Like they were under a magnifying glass being studied, from within the clouds, a large pair of reptilian eyes, with black slits for pupils, appeared and stared at them. It was the eyes of a Draconian, the eyes of their enemy. In the center of each pupil, Ash saw her own reflected image. Standing beside her, holding her hand, was Steven. Only, his image was changing, becoming—
Steven’s grasp upon her hand evaporated, and as she turned, she saw him dissipate into a wisp of black smoke—a wisp that was carried away by the stiff breeze. The look of shock and terror upon his face, was one she would never forget.
Ashlyn screamed, calling out his name—but no sound cracked the air.
Christie was frozen, her staring at the large eyes above.
Fearing for her safety, Ashlyn started to run toward her, each step feeling slower and longer than the one before. As she neared, Christie turned to smoke, evaporating out of existence—her panicked cry unable to reach her ears. Frantically, she spun, looking around her, screaming for her, for Steven—but the world was silent, surreal, dreamlike. The children were gone. Ash tightened her grasp upon her baby, intent upon protecting him. And as she looked down into the angelic sleeping face of her son, Ja’kal—he too evaporated in a wisp of dark smoke.
From her world of silence, she called out, begging for help. There was no one to hear, nothing to grasp onto—she was alone, lost in a world that was beginning to turn gray.
The tall grass and dandelions around her withered, dying before her. The world became sterile, cold and devoid of life—then it too disappeared.
Ashlyn instantly knew she was back in the nexus. The hellish memories of its chilling, death-like touch returned. Even minutes within the nexus felt like a lifetime. It was a place of endless emptiness and loneliness. The coldness it inspired sent a chill down her spine that reached into the marrow of her bones.
Unlike last time though, she was not alone. The dark roiling clouds above her remained, the ominous, evil eyes of her enemy, her captor, watching her.
A deeply resonant, hissing screech like none she had ever heard before, surrounded her—forcing her to wince in discomfort. A heavy gust of wind whirled around her, and with it, came the echoing voices of the darkness. “Ashlyn—what you have stolen from us is ours again. You have delivered us from the darkness, and now we live again. We were patient. We watched. We listened. We have seen all that you have seen. We have heard all that you have heard. We know all that you know.
“You took our lives and defiled our world. And now it is our turn to defile.”
The large reptilian eyes blazed with intense anger, its facial features solidifying. The creature moved toward her, as though it were going to devour her. Its mouth opened, revealing long fangs.
Though Ash had been told that she was powerless within the nexus—she tried to call upon her Transor powers. She felt nothing, just the icy touch of the darkness.
Grimacing, Ash turned her head aside, uncertain of what to expect. The creature roared as it engulfed her.
The roar was followed by a deathly, almost frightening silence. The nexus brightened and transformed—returning her to her bedroom with Steven lying beside her.
Thankful to have awakened from the nightmare, Ash sighed in relief. In wanting to put her hand out to touch Steven, she found herself frozen and unable to move. Though she had never known true panic, her eyes widened in fear, her face grimacing under the strain of trying to free herself. Screaming, Ash called out to Steven in a desperate plea for help. Inwardly, though she could hear the words, no sound escaped her lips. She was powerless, trapped in a realm that existed between her physical reality and the nothingness of the nexus.
A thousand thoughts flooded into Ashlyn’s mind. She remembered the Keeper telling her how Enlil had been haunted by the voices—how they had come to him in his dreams, turning them into nightmares. So too, in sleep, Ashlyn had empowered the darkness, providing them a doorway to enter her dimension.
Faint crackling, creaking noises broke the room’s silence, drawing her attention. Though frozen, she strained to see the source of the noise. From the walls of the room, shadowed, ghostly figures could be seen fighting to extricate themselves. The walls were bending, contorting, stretching to the push of clawed hands and distorted bodies. Slowly, they broke through from the nexus. Like non-corporeal wisps of smoke, their bodily form seemed to be shifting—fighting to take shape. It was as though they were being born.
As the first of them broke fully from the wall, the struggle became easier for the others that followed. It was as though the veil they’d come through was growing thinner.
Lying upon her back, Ashlyn’s eyes darted amongst the shadowy figures as they came toward her. Staring into their glowing red eyes, she sensed their obsessive hatred. A hatred that over the millennia had lost all sense of civility and devolved into a singular base concept, aggregating their collective desire for revenge.
The creatures stood next to her, their bodies taking shape, becoming more reptilian and solid with each passing second. In the dim light of the room, she could see their long, darting tongues lashing at the air.
The nearest of them put a hand out, his clawed fingers taking hold of the linen sheet that covered her. Peeling it back, he revealed her nakedness and vulnerability. Ashlyn could sense his desire to shame her.
The Drac leaned inward, his face hovering above hers. His leathery tongue darted, licking her neck—the rancid stench of his breath making her gag.
The scaly, rough claws of the others beside him touched her, stroking her. Their sharp claws scraped across her soft skin. Ash felt the lashing tongue of one of them licking her breasts.
Since the first moment they had entered the room, Ash had been screaming, hoping that Steven could hear her. It was useless. They had her trapped, her voice silenced.
A half-formed reptilian, at the end of the bed, pushed her legs apart, and as if he were weightless, he slowly floated upwards over her, his clawed hands gripping her calves—his tongue licking her inner thigh.
His solidifying body forced her legs wider, his massive weight pressing her down into the bed. Ash struggled for a breath as he wriggled, positioning himself to ravage her—wincing as his rough tongue stabbed the nape of her neck, and lapped the blood—his clawed hands mangling her breasts.
The fear within Ashlyn turned to anger as she saw the tip of his tail that whipped the air, open. A small blunt head came out. His tail curled downward and slithered up between her legs until it was prodding her.
Knowing she was about to be violated, Ash strained with all her will, trying to force herself to move, to fight back. It was useless. The binds upon her body were unbreakable. As the rage, clouding her thoughts, capitulated to her forced fate, and she steeled herself against the inevitable pain—her mind cleared.
In a pleading shout, her mind stretched—allowing her to connect with Steven in the fugue.
Suddenly, the ceiling of their cabin exploded, blowing outward into space. The roaring shriek of escaping air was ear-shattering. The soulless creatures, standing around her, flailed, unable to fight the pull of the violently escaping air. Their bodies flew into the blackness of space, exiting through the large h
ole in the ruptured hull.
The one, who had climbed atop her, fought against the pull, his talons digging deep into her breasts as his body rose. Ash screamed in pain, her voice loud and piercing as the Drac was ripped away.
His throaty growl of disappointment for not having finished what he’d started, was silenced, as he careened into the sharp exposed edge of the hull, and the top of his head was shorn away.
Released from their control over her physical body, Ash clawed at the bed, her fingers barely managing to grasp onto the iron rail of the headboard. Craning to look over at Steven, she saw that he too was thrashing, his body lifting. His hand was outstretched, reaching for her. Ash managed to reach out to him, the tips of their fingers clasping as he hovered in the air above her. Ash groaned, straining with all her strength to hold onto him. The bed was shaking violently, it too beginning to rise.
“No,” screamed Ashlyn as their fingers broke apart, and Steven flew away from her toward the rupture.
An alarm sounded. The hole in the cabin sealed, a near invisible energy barrier closing off the rupture. Steven’s momentum slammed him into the barrier, where his crumpled body fell back to the floor.
With the sealing of the rupture, the bed and Ashlyn, who had been hanging in the air above it, fell.
The air in the room stirred as the vents poured in oxygen to stabilize the atmosphere.
“Steven!” Ash scrambled off the bed and went to him. The light in the room brightened, allowing her to see that he was unconscious.
“Keeper?” shouted Ashlyn, looking for his assistance.
The Keeper’s image instantly appeared. “He is not seriously hurt.” Even as he said the words, Steven took a deep inhaling breath and moaned, beginning to awaken. “But he will have a headache.”
“What the hell just happened, Keeper?” asked Ashlyn.
“We will need to discuss it, but I would like to wait until Steven can be part of the discussion.”
Though his head throbbed and he was lightheaded, Steven’s thoughts were solely focused upon Ashlyn. “Are you all right? Did they hurt you?”
Ash shook her head. “I’m fine.” After helping Steven to sit up, the two of them leaned back against the bed. “So—you saw them?”
“The geckos? Yeah, I saw them,” answered Steven.
“Was it you that breeched the hull?” asked Ash, unsure why she was even asking.
Steven wagged his head. “They were touching my girl.” Steven put his hand to the already shrinking bump on the back of his skull. “Are you sure they didn’t hurt you, Ash?”
“They were about to, but no—I’m good. I really am. I’m just glad you woke up when you did.” Though the memory of what had almost happened was disturbing, Ash gave a reassuring grin to comfort Steven. “And you, Keeper—did you see them?”
“I did not. I try not to impede upon your privacy. I did, however, record several, individualized, powerful electromagnetic fields that have since dissipated.”
“I don’t know how the Draconians did it, Steven—but somehow a few of them were able to escape the nexus and enter into our dimensional reality.”
“Perhaps their collective consciousness was empowered by their return to the region of space where they died.”
“I guess that’s as good an explanation as any,” agreed Steven.
With a soft, faraway voice, Ashlyn said, “It was just like they did with Enlil—they used my dreams to gain entry.”
“Why? What do they want? What do they hope to gain?” asked Steven. Ashlyn’s face was contemplative, and he could see that she was troubled.
“Besides wanting to shame me?” asked Ash, stalling for time.
Steven was silent, giving her time to collect her thoughts.
“They believe they’ve won. It was their way of proclaiming victory,” Ash added.
“I don’t understand. Victory over what?”
Ashlyn’s grip upon his hand tightened. “They know everything, Steven. They’ve been watching, listening. They’ve seen and heard all that we’ve discussed.” Ashlyn’s eyes grew distant. Her next words were again soft, almost inaudible. “I’m a danger to all of you.”
“Then we’ll just have to be more careful,” said Steven trying to be encouraging. “We’ll figure it out.”
“No—we won’t. I can’t go to Heaven with you.” A sharp pain stabbed her abdomen, forcing her to grasp her belly. Wincing, she said, “I can’t let them hear anything. I can’t let them see anything.” Ash gasped as another pain stabbed her. “I’ll need to go into seclusion—just like Enlil did. He needed quiet and solitude to fight them. I’ll need that too.”
“Stop, Ash—don’t say anymore.” It broke his heart to see her in agony. He had only the touch of his hand upon hers to comfort her. Inwardly, his concern turned to anger for what the darkness was doing to her. With a large breath of air that he released as a low guttural growl, Steven grimaced, his eyes tightening. He remembered Ashlyn’s words, about how Enlil, unable to find an avenue of escape from the darkness had been driven insane.
Ashlyn, seeing Steven’s knotting fists and knowing his thoughts—tried to minimize his fears. “I’m not saying it will be easy, but I won’t have to endure the darkness as long as Enlil did. Once the baby is born, I’ll be free.”
“You’ll be free, but then—” Steven paused. “But, then it will be inside of Ja’kal, and he’ll need to stay away until—”
Ash finished his sentence for him. “Yes, my love. He won’t be able to go to Tryskellyon. He’ll need to remain in seclusion with me until the war is over.”
Steven shook his head, unwilling to accept her conclusion. “Keeper, what about stasis? Once Ja’kal is born can’t we just put him into stasis?”
“For a few months—but no more. Because of the Gift of Life, and the way it fights to regenerate the cellular structure, extended periods of time in stasis is not a viable option for those of Anunnaki physiology. The physics of the two concepts are not compatible. It is a war on a cellular level, that would damage the host.”
Giving a loud huff, Steven’s face twisted, showing his frustration.
“Steven, I have a question for you.” Ashlyn’s eyes were intense, deadly serious. “How did you know the shadows were in the room?”
Tipping his head to the side, he pondered the question. “I—I remember hearing you scream.”
Ash frowned. “That’s what I thought. The thing is, I didn’t scream. I couldn’t. They’d paralyzed me. I was conscious, but paralyzed.
“What you heard was me calling out to you in the fugue.”
“And, why is that important? What difference does it make now?” questioned Steven.
“Because,”—Ash stopped for a moment to collect her thoughts. “Because, when the darkness was attacking me, I could see their thoughts. They somehow used the fugue between you and I to learn the Keeper’s pla—” Ash doubled over with intense pain.
“Damn them.” Steven took her by the shoulders and held her tight to his chest until her pain subsided. “I understand, Ash. You don’t need to say anymore.”
Steven knew exactly what Ashlyn had wanted to say. The fugue that had connected them during their time together under the waterfall had opened the door into his mind, where they saw the discussion that had taken place. They now knew how the Keeper was going to defend Heaven. Their strategic battle plan was compromised.
“It means I can’t be near you. It means I have to leave,” said Ash, her head buried in his chest.
“There has to be another way, Ash. I won’t separate from you. Not again. Besides, as far as we know, the fugue doesn’t have a limit on distance. So, leaving won’t work anyway.”
“You’re right, we don’t know of any limit on distance—but we do know of one barrier that exists,” said Ash, expectant of more pain for having spoken.
“Why are they letting you talk now?” asked Steven, leaning back and lifting her chin so that he could see her eyes.
Ash shook
her head. “I think they want to learn our next move.”
Steven huffed, his brow furrowing. “The only barrier that can block the fugue is—no.” Steven shook his head as her revelation came to the fore. “Dammit, Ash, this is absurd, not to mention, that this was always a one-way backward trip in time. The time gate doesn’t even exist here.”
“In a manner of speaking, the time gate does exist. I can create one. It was me who built the one that brought us here,” said the Keeper.
“You aren’t helping, Keeper,” said Steven, his exasperation showing.
“You warned me to never again withhold information. I believe this was what you meant,” answered the Keeper.
Steven sighed.
“Keeper—how long will it take you to build another ship like Destiny?” asked Ashlyn.
“One hundred and fifty-three days.”
“And how long to build the gate?”
“Twenty-three days”
“Keeper, are you able to stretch my time in stasis to six months?” asked Ash. “And will it be safe for the baby?”
“With very careful monitoring, I believe it could be done. No longer though, or the risk will begin to grow exponentially.”
“Ash, you can’t seriously be entertaining all this?” questioned Steven. “There has to be another way?”
“I’m open to suggestions,” said Ashlyn through an escaping moan as she rose to her feet. “I know this isn’t what we wanted, but we’re doing this to save our people, our world—our child. There’s no telling what the darkness might do to him if we stay. This may be his only chance to someday live a normal life.”
After taking a large inhaling breath, Steven took her hand and stood. “Keeper, is there a place on the planet that you could beam Ashlyn and I down to for a few hours. We need some quiet time together, a place where we can be alone.”
“Yes. There was a favorite spot where the two of you liked to go. It is on the other side of the planet. I can safely send you there.”
“Does this place have a name?” asked Ashlyn.
“Just the one that you gave it—Eden.”
