by Beth Hodgson
“Is this… blood?” Kyle asked.
“Emerald’s blood,” Victor said. “She asked me to give you when the time came. Now I understand why.”
“When did she give this to you?”
“We drew her blood after I talked with her last night.”
Kyle looked at the vial, mesmerized by the glow. Emerald wanted him to have it. She wanted him to be gifted like her. God, he only hoped that she still felt for him what he did for her. If only he could relive yesterday all over again. Like Victor said, he was a damn fool.
Pushing his thoughts aside, Kyle snatched the vial from Victor’s hand, looking into its red depths in the light.
“You realize what this means?” Victor asked him softly.
“Hell yes, I realize what this means. Inject this shit into me so I can go get her!” Kyle said, jumping to his feet.
“Kyle, injecting yourself with magical blood doesn’t guarantee that it will give you her power,” Garrett interjected. “When I hacked into the files of Lab 34, only one out of nine hundred men took to the magic. Think about that. Only one. That one being Drew, the orange guy who chased you guys.”
“But it’s worth a damn try.” Kyle continued staring into the blood’s light.
“Yes, it is,” Victor stated. “If it works, it means you can aid Emerald and redeem our people. Hopefully she can change the King’s mind. Or remove him by force, if necessary.”
“I’ll do whatever I can, you can bet your ass on that,” Kyle said. “First priority is Em’s safety.”
Emerald. Just saying her name made him feel incomplete, like his other half was missing. She was the only pure light within the fucked-up world. He had to get her out.
Garrett turned to the woman. “Do you have what we need?”
She nodded in response, pulling supplies out of her pack.
“Yes, let’s get this shit done,” Kyle agreed.
“Get in the chair,” Garrett directed him, and Kyle did so. He turned to Victor. “Do you have any belts?”
Victor nodded, then walked into the next room.
“Belts?” Kyle asked, snapping his full attention at Garrett. “What the fuck?”
“Dude, if you’d seen the reports I’ve seen, you’d know why,” Garrett answered. “Trust me. It’s good for both of us.”
Kyle’s heart began to race. What if his body didn’t accept the blood? Or better yet, what if the magic decided that he was nothing but a piece of shit for abandoning one of their own?
God, if you really exist, now is the time to lend me a hand.
The woman returned with a needle. Victor appeared, securing Kyle’s limbs tight against the chair with the belts he’d brought back. Kyle couldn’t move except his neck.
Damn, they’re serious.
The woman took out a syringe, sucking Emerald’s blood in via the needle.
“I would say this isn’t going to hurt, but I have no idea,” she said matter-of-factly.
“I’m ready,” Kyle said. He clenched his fists and closed his eyes, waiting in anticipation.
Hold on, Em. I’m coming, he thought desperately. I promise you, I will never, ever pull that shit again.
Kyle felt the prick of the needle in his arm burn as the blood began to seep into his bloodstream. Sweat rolled down his brow as his body became hot, burning within.
His heart began to beat quickly, pumping hard. With each heartbeat, its pace increased; first it was slow, but as it continued, it became rapid, so rapid that Kyle was sure it wasn’t humanly possible for a heart to beat as fast as his was. The sound of his heartbeats pounded through his ears until he heard no more whispers from the others in the room. The pain, the suffering, what he’d said to Emerald, he was reminded of it each time his heart hammered through his chest, spreading so quickly and so violently that it burned. Burned his very inward soul.
Kyle screamed, and his eyes shot open.
Red. There was nothing but red as far as his eyes could see. He was no longer strapped in the chair, but he was standing in the crimson void.
Through the red, Emerald appeared, her oh-so-gorgeous image dancing with fierceness within the red vast space.
I never meant to push you away…
The fires inside of his soul ignited, flaring.
Startled, Kyle tried to pat it out.
Instead it fought back, expanding in size.
Kyle rolled to the ground, hoping to extinguish it.
Like wildfire, his inner self was set ablaze instantly, melting away his insides into a pool of nothingness.
You left me, Kyle… You left me all alone. Why did you leave me?
“I’m sorry, Em! I fucked up! I should have never left you alone!” Kyle yelled in agony. “I’m sorry…”
No one heard him; it was no use. He was talking inside the expanse of his mind. His body was being consumed by the red flames. They were eating away at his existence, and there was no one there to help. Just him in the crazy ass red space, waiting to die.
Screaming from the excruciating pain, Kyle saw Emerald was suddenly gone from the fires. All that remained were the flames from within his soul, colored in red.
He looked down at his hands, watched as his flesh melted in the hellfires emitting from his palms.
“Fuck you, flames!” he cursed at them.
The flames grew larger, spreading throughout his being harder and faster, his soul disappearing at a much more rapid pace than before. All of him was being taken away by the magic.
We are in charge! The flames hissed and crackled, igniting pain through his spirit.
“The hell you are!”
Kyle doubled over in pain, writhing in the red flames. Struggling, he ordered himself to get up, but his body refused. Instead, the fire spread, creating a wall of flames around him in his crimson world. A strong gust of ruby-tinted winds blew through the fires, feeding their frenzy, enlarging them tenfold.
What the hell am I going to do?
Smoke filled his lungs. He coughed constantly as he struggled through the fiery damnation.
If I only had water. Just a little bit of water…
Through the smoke, raging red waters came in full force toward him. They ripped through the wall of flames, dowsing them. The waters formed a new path through the fires, then violently rushed over him.
Kyle couldn’t move, as his body was badly burnt from the inside out.
The rushing red water grew, submersing his soul. Before he knew it, Kyle was drowning in its red depths. The crimson waters were too deep and continued to pull him under. Fighting the current, Kyle frantically paddled to the surface, but the water kept coming.
Through the red murkiness, he saw a dark object obstructing the ruby waters above. It grew in size slowly, but he knew it could be his saving grace from the deadly waters. It was dry land.
The moment Kyle thought of the island above him, he was no longer in the water. Instead he was in a red rocky desert wasteland. Its appearance mimicked his homeland, the same rock formations and the same outcroppings. He even saw the camp far off in the distance in shades of red.
A revitalizing wind embraced him in their folds. The red magical air was illuminated within the winds as it brushed against his skin and eventually rested in place, making him whole. The gentle winds continued to flow, filling him with the power of the red magic.
They were giving him a second life. A new life.
You must go to your princess, the red magic softly whispered in his ears.
CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE
The soft leather of her sofa did not bring comfort to Telly. She sat in the black folds of the couch, staring out of her apartment window. Arcadia’s mid-levels were lit up in all colors, dazzling its citizens. Ground transports sped across highways woven through the city while their air counterparts flashed in the sky like magnificent twinkling stars.
Depression settled in her bones. Drew was gone. She would see him no more. It was like losing him all over again, but this time there was no h
ope.
Reaching over to the coffee table, she picked up a thin brown package, then unwrapped the contents, revealing a small book. The stolen vials of blood already sat on the table with her work bag.
The Spectrum. The bible for the so-called gifted, or believers of the gifted.
There was no print or embellishments on the cover; it was just tattered and weathered from years of the previous owner’s use. Telly had had to bend over backward to get a copy of the book, scouring online to purchase it. No one had digitized a copy of it for online use, not even any of the world cathedrals or churches that remained open. People had little use for myths in this modern age, Telly told herself, or the fact that no one cared. No one except her, apparently.
“Mom, what are you doing?”
Startled, Telly turned to see her daughter’s head poking out from the hallway. She dropped The Spectrum on the couch.
“Gwen, it’s way past your bedtime.”
“But you’re up too!” the teen protested.
“Just go back to bed.”
“Whoa, did you really get a physical book?” Gwen asked, approaching curiously, trying to get a peek of the book’s cover. “How come it’s not digital? What book is it?”
Telly pushed the book behind her. “Just go to sleep.”
“Can you at least tell me what book you got?” Gwen quickly ran up to her side, snatching the book.
Telly leapt up from the couch, running after Gwen. “Hand it over to me right this instant!”
“Since when did you get religious, Mom?” Gwen said, flipping through the book.
“I didn’t,” Telly snapped, yanking the book out of Gwen’s hands. “Now go to your room before I decide to ground your butt.”
“Fine,” Gwen huffed as she walked toward her room. “Why does everything have to be a secret with you?” she muttered as she slammed the door behind her. A few seconds later, muffled music could be heard coming from the teen’s room.
Telly was about to go into her room to make a point but decided to let it go. She didn’t feel like getting into an argument tonight. She didn’t have the energy.
Telly waited, listening to the music coming from Gwen’s room, then opened the book. The smell of the pages was stale, and the paper crumbled as she flipped to the beginning.
In the beginning, the God of Light shone his light upon the earth. Ruling with his right hand, the God of Light held the light of the world, power that no man or being under him could ever possess, for the power was too great for any other being on the earth.
The Lord of Darkness desired power and longed to hold the earth as his dominion. Above all, he coveted the God of Light’s pure light, the power to overcome heaven and earth.
The Lord of Darkness gathered his demons, and a war in heaven broke out. The angels of light battled the demons of darkness. The God of Light burned his light, eradicating any darkness that entered the heavens, then hurled the Lord of Darkness to the earth’s dark corners, never to allow him to step foot in the heavens again.
After the Lord of Darkness was abolished from the skies, the God of Light hurled the brilliant light of his right hand to the earth, shattering it amongst the peoples. For no person, nor any being besides the God of Light himself, should possess the Spectrum of Magic.
And thus, it was so. The fragmented light split into the colors of the world. Each color chose an inhabitant of the earth, transforming them into the Gifted.
Telly turned her focus to the stolen vials of blood, each one of them laid out in a straight fashion on the glass top of her coffee table. It wouldn’t change her decision.
Getting up from the couch, Telly went into the kitchen and found a wooden spoon in the utensil drawer. It was still brand new, never been used. That showed how much cooking she actually did. In fact, almost all of her cooking utensils hadn’t been soiled, save for a couple of them. She grabbed the spoon from the drawer, then walked back over to the couch, seating herself quietly once again while setting the wooden spoon on the coffee table.
She reached for her work bag, pulling out a sterile syringe.
Her heart pounded in her chest, adding to the feeling of nervousness at what she was about to do. She took a deep breath, then exhaled, trying to calm her nerves. A loose piece of blonde hair flopped in front of her face, and Telly yanked it back, securing it with her hair clip.
Telly reached for the blood sample that was Drew’s, then held it gently in her hands. She studied it in the lamp light as if it was the first time she was truly seeing the magical blood.
Drew. How I miss you already, she thought sadly, watching the blood pulsate a deep glow.
Turning her attention to the wooden spoon, Telly grabbed it, then bit the middle of the handle, her teeth clamping down on the awful taste of the wood.
Grasping the syringe, Telly filled it with the blood slowly.
Pulling back the sleeve of her sweater, she made a fist. Her veins popped out, giving her a clear sign where they were. She took a deep breath, held it, then plunged the needle into her vein.
A burning sensation tingled her insides for a second, then like wildfire, the tingling was replaced with wild hellish flames that ran rampant through her body instantly, setting her soul ablaze.
Grunting through the wooden spoon, Telly fell into the sofa, flailing. She tried to grab on to something, anything, to ground herself, but it was no use; her body rolled and thrashed within the folds of the couch as she gasped for breath. Her head jerked back violently as the spoon flew from her mouth, and suddenly she found herself suffocating in an orange world as Gwen’s music continued to play in the background.
You don’t believe! hissed the magic.
“I don’t know what to believe!” Telly cried.
So be it! the magic answered.
Agony consumed her body, paralyzing her with an immense fear so strong she’d never felt anything like it. Through the orange world, she saw Drew as he was before the accident. He was the only thing that made her truly happy in life. Him and Gwen.
“Drew!” Telly called out hoarsely, still writhing in pain. She stretched out her hand in the hope that he would take it.
Instead, the image of him faded before her eyes into the vast orange space, leaving her soul tormented in an orange hell as she screamed his name.
CHAPTER FORTY-SIX
He was going to be the world’s hero, and everyone would worship him for his heroic deeds. After all, according to Auron, the Ghost Man would indeed stop Ikaria. The prophecy was meant for him, there was no doubt about it. And no one longed for him more than Ikaria herself. Cyrus would use that to his advantage.
Cyrus pictured in his mind the praise he would receive from the High Court if he personally stopped Ikaria. Perhaps they would even bestow their special blessings upon him, the ones that were meant for only the elite. He already had been graciously given their courtly favors. But he wanted more. To receive any blessing from the High Court was a gift from the God of Light himself. And that gift of power was what he desired most.
Ikaria. Still wallowing in her misery over the loss of her right to the throne, and still pining over him like a jilted lover. Cyrus had caught Ikaria’s stares from time to time while he engaged with private flirtations with the younger women of the court. At one time, she was renowned for her unique beauty and elegance, and rightfully so. She was tall like him, with wondrous curves that made any man firm. Her pale violet eyes were fierce, and her long neck demanded to be kissed. He wouldn’t necessarily say that he once loved her, but she did make him feel delightfully good. They would have made a great match, as they were both beautiful people, and would have produced beautiful offspring. But since she was not named heir to the throne for World Sector Six, he had to pursue his orders, and his ambitions, to marry the named heir.
And it turned out to be her sister, Ayera.
Empress Ayera was indeed very lovely to look at. She was a smaller, softer version of Ikaria. However, she was a completely uninteresting love
r. Ayera hardly ever seemed interested in him sexually, which led him to seek satisfaction elsewhere. She probably had some hang-up from her sister’s jealousy, which caused her to be sexually cold toward him. Once or twice the thought of Ayera preferring women to men had crossed his mind. No matter, Cyrus found plenty of women willing to fulfill his manly needs.
Cyrus walked alone in the crystal halls with the light of the moon reflecting upon him. As he approached Ikaria’s chambers, he paused for a moment before knocking. They hadn’t spoken privately since they were engaged. That was years ago. He had heard reports of Ikaria’s enraged fits and uncontrollable sobs when word was spread throughout the sector that he was betrothed to Ayera. Even her desperate letters, begging him to come and comfort her, had gone ignored. Ikaria had taken it all so personally. Cyrus was just doing his duty and honoring his pact while fulfilling the one wish that he most desired: becoming the emperor.
Cyrus gave a demanding knock. Suri, Ikaria’s servant girl, opened the door, wearing a violet yukata that clung to her elongated thin frame. When Suri noticed him, her eyes widened, then she quickly bowed, keeping her head lowered.
“Emperor Cyrus, how—” Suri said quietly.
“I need to see Ikaria. Now.”
Bowing again quickly, she gestured for him to come in. “Enchantress Ikaria is out on her private viewing platform. I will fetch her for you.”
“That is not necessary, I will go and see her myself,” Cyrus stated. Even her servants talked like Ikaria, very masked, very polite, yet with a hint of spite behind them. It annoyed Cyrus greatly and made his skin crawl.
Cyrus marched through Ikaria’s chambers with Suri trailing behind him. She ran up in front of him when he arrived at the balcony exit, unsealing the airtight door and holding it open. A strong airflow entered Ikaria’s chamber as he stepped outside onto the balcony. Behind him, Suri closed the door.
The high-altitude air was especially chilly tonight, causing Cyrus to cover his shoulders with the warmth of his cape.
“Emperor Cyrus,” Ikaria’s voice pierced the air.
