by Hanna Peach
She isn’t alone.
Stubble and his hair loose and long like a gypsy. He had been a face among the crowd at tonight’s race. She noticed his blank look at the starting line, his calm appraisal of her, but thought nothing of it. Just another follower.
“Rogue,” she hisses at him.
“We prefer the term FreeThinker.”
Alyx attempts to spring to her feet. Only then does she realize. She can’t move.
The numbness across her body is replaced with prickles of fear. She thrashes and kicks in a pure panic, but only in her mind. Her body remains still. This Rogue has done something to her body, taken her to this cathedral, laid her on this alter. Hope disappears from her heart. She is to be his sacrifice. To the Darkened. Rogues do this to keep the Darkened appeased.
“What have you done to me?” Her breath is shallow.
There is no sign of emotion on his face. “I’ve allowed your mind to wake but kept your body asleep. It’ll wear off soon.”
“Devil’s magic.”
“No. Not Devil’s magic, DreamWalker magic.”
“Lies,” Alyx says thinking of her DreamWalker training. “DreamWalker magic can’t do this.”
The Rogue watches her for a moment. A frown flickers over his face. “I see the Elders are still keeping things from you.”
“What are you talking about?”
“I suspect you’ll start to realize this soon enough, Alyxandria.”
Alyx feels her blood run cold. “How do you know who I am?”
“I heard that a young ungifted warrior had an unusual vision. A vision which led to the body of a murdered Darkened.”
Someone at Michaelea is trading secrets with Rogues.
“I’m sorry for the inconvenience,” he waves his arm at her to indicate her lifeless body. “I didn’t think you’d talk to me any other way.”
“Talk?”
“Have you heard of the Blood Prophecies? Raphael’s last prophecies?”
Alyx remains silent. But inside her mind is whirring. Elder Raphael’s last prophecies. The prophecies Raphael made before he died? But they are false prophecies. The ravings of a lunatic.
The Rogue continues, “The Elders are not forthcoming with this knowledge. I myself have never seen the Blood Prophecies but I was told a line from it once, told to watch for it.” His eyes become unfocused as he appears to recite from memory,
“…see it first in the mind then in the flesh,
their bond revealed through a burn-marked death,
in the place of mortal remembrance...”
Alyx’s mind repeats over his words… first in the mind… burn-marked death… place of mortal remembrance…
This Rogue knows too much. How? Alyx has a sudden thought. There is no prophecy; this is the Darkened-killer. And he is looking to shut her up.
The Rogue refocuses his eyes on her, his stare full of meaning. “The Blood Prophecies talk about a shifting of powers, a rising darkness. The coming of hell on earth. This Darkened-killer of your vision is the beginning of it.”
“Are you trying to tell me that you didn’t kill the girl?”
“First you accuse me of being on the Darkened’s side, now you accuse me of killing one of them. Make up your mind.”
Alyx is silent.
His voice softens, “We need to find him.”
“We?”
“I am not bound by the restrictions of your protocol, your Code. I can go where you can’t. I can walk amongst mortals and the Darkened and most importantly, I can get information from them.”
“I don’t work with Rogues.”
He takes a long breath in before speaking, “One day soon you’ll ask for my help, I’m sure of it. My name is Jordan. Jordan Bonaven. Look for me in your Archives. Then when you’ve discovered the truth, when you’re ready for my help, come find me. I’ll be waiting.”
He moves out of her vision, his footsteps echoing down the aisle of the church.
“Where are you going?” Alyx yells. “Let me go, dammit.” She kicks out but where her legs would have normally reacted there is only the feeling of pushing against an impenetrable wall. She cries out in frustration. “I will find you.”
“I’m counting on it,” before the door slams shut.
Chapter 10
The Archives is a separate dome within the cluster of scholar buildings, squat and low off the ground like a bloated mushroom, enclosed by all sides to prevent the damaging elements, especially sunlight, from tasting the rolls of Threads within.
Alyx floats through the entrance of the Archives. The floor drops below her revealing a valley-like space, a three-dimensional honeycomb labyrinth of horizontal and vertical shelves and stacks, endlessly filled with rolled up Threads, their colored title-ends creeping over the edges of their wooden cradles. The dome, having no natural light, is lit from within by strands of halolights creeping across the walls, ceilings, and along the Threadcases like a proliferate weed.
After searching the Threadcases and coming up with nothing useful Alyx decides to ask a presiding Elder. She finds Elder Cornelius floating amidst the section marked Seraphim Agricultural in the top half of the Archives labyrinth.
“Elder Cornelius, I’m looking for some information on a Rogue.”
“A Rogue?” his voice undulates over the word. “Whatever for?”
Alyx keeps her face placid and recites her prepared lie, “At patrole the other night, I came across a Rogue colluding with a Darkened. I killed the Darkened but the Rogue got away. I hoped that by understanding a bit more about this Rogue it would help me find him.”
The Elder’s eyes narrows, appraising her slowly. Alyx forces her smile a little wider.
“That information is restricted.”
“But it’s for―.”
“I don’t care what it’s for. No one is to retrieve information from the restricted section without Elder Michael’s approval. Do you have Elder Michael’s approval? No. Well, if there isn’t anything else you just fly along now.”
Alyx forces herself to bow and floats away from Elder Cornelius, heading towards the exit. When she is out of his line of sight she darts around a Threadcase.
In the restricted section.
Alyx makes her way down to the depths of the Archives, the ceiling above her disappearing behind a canopy of shelves and Threads.
The restricted section is in the belly of the Archives, a square space enclosed by magic shields, shimmering like an icy vault. Pressing against the semi-opaque walls Alyx can see the blurred shapes within. More Threads.
So, the information she wants is in there. How is she going to get it?
Chapter 11
In Michaelea, dotted throughout the cluster of scholars’ buildings there are four lecture pods named after four great Elder scholars; Hieronymus, Nuncio, Ulysses and Amadeus. Each pod is a mini-coliseum, tiered benches curved around a platform. The earthborn attend lectures here until after their eighteenth winter. Lectures such as Seraphim History: Before and After, Mortal History and the Seraphim, Inter-city Relations, Seraphim Society and Structure, and Earth-laws: Time, Movement, and Seasons.
They also attend lectures which are more specialized to the Destiny that has been chosen by the Elders for each earthborn.
Alyx always knew she was destined to be a warrior. Even before her Destiny was chosen. There is nothing else for someone like her.
Alyx doesn’t mind. She prefers the warrior lectures over the compulsory classes. The Evolution of Seraphim weapons, Study of the Darkened, The Darkened and Mortals, Lightwarrior Protocols, and Mortal Patrole Cities. Much more interesting.
This afternoon Alyx, Elysia and Xavier are sitting in the upper stands of Hieronymus, the namesake whose most notable contributions were to create the Archives classification system and to formulate a soaking solution to preserve Threads for a theoretical eternity. While they wait for class to start, Xavier and Elysia are speculating on potential Announcement pairings.
“What
about Daniel with Delphina?”
“No way. Daniel will be matched with Constantine. It’s basically a sealed deal.”
Constantine is a direct daughter of Chief Elder Uriel, ruler of Urielos, another Seraphim city. She made Michaelea her home only six months ago but her intentions have always been clear. She was looking to secure herself a direct son of a Michaelea Elder. Lately she had been seen in public with Daniel, a direct son of Chief Elder Michael.
It is no secret that the Elders negotiate pairings between their direct sons and daughters. Political reasons and to keep their bloodline pure.
Alyx tunes out from their conversation and scans across the lecture pod filling up with Seraphim. She can pick out the other lightwarriors all wearing their blacks. It is a contrast to the Castus who favor bright colors. It is easier, Alyx supposes, to wear colors if you aren’t constantly in danger of staining it with blood.
Alyx notices one of the Castus turned deliberately around in his seat, looking at her. It is Daniel, the direct son of Chief Elder Michael. Structured roman-like face with a smile that left most seraphelle gasping for air when it was turned upon them.
Alyx is used to being stared at, especially by the Castus. She stares back at Daniel, openly, chin tilted up slightly and lips pursued as if in a challenge. Usually this embarrasses or frightens them into looking away. But Daniel holds her gaze. And smiles.
Alyx blinks and for a moment she feels an odd flush. She looks away. Then curses herself for being the first one to flinch. When she returns her gaze to Daniel he is still smiling at her.
“Quiet please,” Elder Bezebel calls out in her clear voice, signaling the start of the lecture. Daniel keeps his eyes on her for a moment longer before turning around. Alyx slides down in her seat. Damn the vision. When will all this extra attention stop?
Elder Bezebel hovers at the front of the lecture dome, honey hair falling over her shoulders. Despite her childish features and youthful smile, she is an Elder, alive since the dawn of time, and a prominent Seraphim scholar.
“We all know this story,” she begins, “but occasionally it is necessary for a refresher. Today we revise the First Betrayal.”
There is a slight rumble in the stands. This would have to be the most well-known piece of Seraphim history. Elder Raphael, the first to betray them. Is it a coincidence that this story comes up now?
“Raphael was a Chief Elder. One of the original three Seraphim Brothers.” Elder Bezebel floats around the hall as she speaks. “He was our only Oracle, the rarest of all Seraphim gifts. Unfortunately, this gift is erratic, unstable as, of course, the future always is...”
Alyx feels a prickle down her spine. It seems that Elder Bezebel’s eyes fix on her for a moment. Then she continues speaking leaving Alyx wondering if it had just been her imagination.
“Over the years on earth he became more reclusive, more eccentric, more argumentative with the other Elders. He fought us on everything; how we raised our earthborn, how we chose the Entwined, how we chose your Destiny’s. He fought us on how we ran our city - remember back then there was only the one city of Atlantis. But Raphael was especially outspoken regarding our relationship with the mortals and the Darkened. The Elders were patient with him, entertained his eccentricity, tolerated his constant troublemaking. Until the day he turned upon us, denouncing the Elders, rambling nonsense ideas and false prophecies.”
Alyx raises her arm up to the air.
“Yes Alyx.”
“What prophecies?”
“It matters not. They are false.”
“So, the Blood Prophecies are false then?” It slips from Alyx’s mouth before she can contain it.
Alyx hears a few gasps. The lecture hall rustles with whispers. You never question an Elder. Especially not as a low-cast.
“Who has been speaking to you about the Blood Prophecies?”
“So they exist?”
Elder Bezebel’s eyes narrow but before she can speak another voice calls out.
“I’d also like to know about these Blood Prophecies, Elder Bezebel. Even if they are false.” It is Daniel.
This elicits an even greater rustle from the stands. More whispers. A Castus of his status sticking up for a low-cast? Even Elder Bezebel looks startled.
Daniel turns in his seat to look at Alyx again. This time he winks. Elysia nudges Alyx with her elbow. Alyx feels her cheeks warm.
Elder Bezebel clears her throat. “Well then, Daniel. If you must know, the Blood Prophecies were Raphael’s predictions about the end of the world. But Raphael was well and truly mad by this stage. He was trying to strike fear into us so that we would be manipulated into doing his bidding. Even so, the Elders undertook major investigations into these prophecies just in case there was a ring of truth to them. We can undoubtedly confirm that they are indeed false prophecies.”
“How?” asks Alyx.
“Are you questioning the word of the Elders?” There is a dark threat to Elder Bezebel’s tone. Questioning the word of an Elder. It is a grave offence, a punishable offense.
“No Elder,” Alyx says. She slides down into her seat, hating herself for having to submit.
Elder Bezebel continues without skipping a beat. “Raphael started speaking vile things, vile things against the Elders, appearing to have sided with the beliefs of the Darkened. The Elders tried to contain Raphael’s growing madness but unfortunately they could not. Poor Raphael. In the end he couldn’t distinguish between false and real. He didn’t trust anyone and was obsessed with thoughts of conspiracy and of the end of the world. The madness consumed him completely. It ended, sadly, when Raphael took his own life.”
Alyx can feel the glances sneaking at her from around the lecture hall. At her, then at Daniel. She can almost hear their thoughts.
“What’s going on there? Why did he just stand up for you?” even Elysia asks her in a whisper.
“Nothing. I’ve never even spoken to the guy.” Alyx tries to make herself smaller in her seat.
The lecture comes to a close.
“Next week, we shall start learning about the last Great Celestial War and the warriors who fought,” Elder Bezebel calls over the shuffling.
Alyx starts to pull her things together.
“So, a few of us are heading down to the fields now to play airball,” Xavier is saying. “You should come. Alyx?”
“What? Oh, sorry I can’t. Elder Michael has me on Mayrekk duty.” She chews her lip.
“The GiftKeeper?”
“Yeah.”
“So you’ve definitely become an Oracle?”
“No one’s confirmed that.”
Yet.
“Maybe you could join us afterwards?”
Alyx doesn’t answer. Her mind is elsewhere. Hunched figure wrapped in fur. Walking. She doesn’t notice Elysia nudging her until it becomes a sharp jab.
“Ow. What’s that for?” Alyx notices Elysia’s wide eyes. She is nodding her head at something over Alyx’s shoulder. “What?”
Alyx spins to find herself face to face with Daniel. He is hovering there with both hands jammed in his pockets and a lopsided-smile on his face. Alyx tries not to roll her eyes. He must think he looks cool.
“Hi Alyx,” he says.
“Hi.” She is not able to hide the suspicion in her voice.
“I just wanted to say that I thought your questions were really, um... bold.”
“Thanks, I guess.”
“I heard about your new mark. A DreamWalker mark right?”
“Yeah.”
“I’m a DreamWalker myself. I could help you practice with DreamWalker bloodink if you ever wanted to.”
“Oh. Thanks.”
“No problem. I have to go. You should stop by our table at next meal sometime. Say hello.” Then he grins, a lopsided grin, before turning. “See you soon okay?” he calls over his shoulder.
Alyx is stunned into silence.
“What the hell was that?” asks Xavier from behind her.
“O
h my god Alyx. Did you see the way he was looking at you?” Elysia says. “‘I could help you practice if you want.’ He likes you.”
Alyx shakes her head. Today is turning out to be a strange day.
It is about to get stranger.
The GiftKeeper
The GiftKeeper is a rare gift. The GiftKeeper is able to draw upon and manipulate the power of others.
The GiftKeeper is responsible for distilling the Castus’ blood into bloodink which can then be tattooed upon the lightwarrior’s skin prior to battle. The bloodink remains within the tattoo until the wearer commands the magic forth. Undistilled Seraphim blood should never be used. It is highly unstable.
This detail is provided for informational purposes only. The GiftKeeper bloodink is not authorized for use.
The Lightwarrior’s Protocol
Chapter 12
Elder Mayrekk.
Unlike the other Elders he does not participate in normal city life. He does not attend meal times or ceremonies, does not perform any normal Elder duties.
The only Seraphim who make contact with Mayrekk are the Castus who attend him at his hut to make their blood donations. After they visit with him the Castus carry back with them whispers about Mayrekk’s strange behaviors.
The Elders allow Mayrekk his eccentricities because he is the only living GiftKeeper.
No one really knows why Mayrekk lives the way he does and the Elders are not forthcoming with their explanations. Alyx has heard that the Elders have been banned from speaking of Mayrekk to anyone, even amongst themselves. This only fuels the whispers.
Mayrekk lives alone on the outskirts of Michaelea, past the training fields and along the skirts of the mountain just before the entrance to the Hollows. His home is a squat mud-brick dome jammed into the foot of a sheer cliff-face.
Alyx floats towards his door. Strange that he decided to live close to the earth rather than the sky. She knocks. Waits.
Knocks again.
There is no answer.
Alyx is about to turn away when the door jerks away from its frame. Mayrekk’s face appears, browned and pink from the sun. His eyes, wide and unfocused, are glancing about her. His long wiry hair is uncombed and spills from a length of twine. His gaze finally settles on her and he stares at her for the longest moment.
