by Iyanna Orr
“Do you come out here often?” Chandler asked, pitching his voice lower than the crackle of the fire.
“I started when more of the others started disappearing from the manor,” she told him, pulling her knees to her chest. “There used to be a lot of us; hundreds. Now, we’re only seventy and three. I’m still hoping, now that you’re here, they’ll stop coming to take us away because the ones that go never come back.”
“I’m sorry.”
“We all learned to tolerate each other. Most of us had never met before we were taken. But I’ve learned to survive here. Ellis always came to the door — after the villagers had realized we were around — to offer us sustenance.”
“Which one is Ellis?” Chandler looked around.
“That’s her,” Angel replied, pointing to the woman who’d smiled. Sensing our gazes, she looked up, widened brown eyes surrounded by the wrinkle of a smile. Ellis nodded before looking away. “She’s brought food to the manor ever since. I’ve just never had the courage to tell her that none of us have a large appetite. We’re so used to not eating at all that we don’t really bother anymore.”
“Just think,” Chandler said, going for a smile. “Now that the princes and the knights are here, it won’t go to waste.”
“I know. I’ve been convincing them to eat all they can since you got here, except for the blond one. He eats very little, and he’s quiet but not the uncomfortable kind. I welcome his silence.”
“Avan’s a mystery,” Chandler agreed. “But I think he’s a good guy. He’s just been dealt the wrong hand.” Angel nodded and fell silent. Then, Chandler turned to gaze at her from the corner of his eye.
“You don’t eat? At all?”
“No.” Angel looked over, her smile widened as she took in the confusion on Chandler’s face. “The Nephling are like grass or flowers or trees. We gather our energy from the sun, and food can provide a little extra. We exist, but most of the time, we’re just here. We weren’t created to become warriors or philosophers. We were just a single planet, the only planet, in our dimension. We were just one dimensional like to the next. Nobody cared because our existences didn’t contribute nor did it create an obstacle that held the other species back.
“That is until Drake discovered how powerful we could be. The Nephalems are created from raw power. Therefore, that is what they are. What you are is made of magic, Chandler, so you have unhindered access to the magic of most dimensions. Because we, the Nephling, came from the Nephalem, we are similar, but we must have a source. Our physical bodies must share energy among living things, like plants and animals. We create partnerships with them and share the magic that they cannot use.”
Chandler considered the admission and wondered how much he didn’t know about himself.
“My turn,” Angel announced once Chandler’s silence had stretched ten long minutes. He turned. “You think Sir Avan is a good man, but what about you?”
“Me?”
“Yes. When I told you that I didn’t think you were a monster, you didn’t sound as if you agreed.” Angel looked confused and drawn. “Why do you think you’re a monster?”
“It’s not that I consider myself a monster, Angel. Only one of me exists. That means there are no means for reproduction; evolution. I can’t help feeling like I shouldn’t exist, not with everyone I meet reminding me how out of place I am.”
“Prophecies are not written about people who are not meant to exist, Chandler.” Her statements were aimed at the fire as she looked away. “It’s not your fault someone had a disagreement with whoever you were thousands of years ago, Chandler. It’s not your fault that you were born, but you can make your own fate. Prophecy or not, I believe you want to save Legacy for more reasons than that.”
“I don’t know what I want. I’m here because I know I have to be. There’s no other reason.”
“No,” Angel said, and her orange eyes blazed. “You’re here because Drake destroyed your family, just like he’s done to many people before. You have a memory locked in your head about what really happened to your parents. Chandler, I know you think you don’t care about them because you don’t know them, but it’s a part of you to try to avenge the people who made you. That’s why your mind is so confused. So far, you’ve been trying to follow your mind while it’s been trying to convince you to listen to what’s inside.” She gestured to her small chest, right over her beating heart. “I know that since Drake locked us in the dark place four years ago, I’ve wanted to follow my heart and avenge my family. But I’m just a child, and I don’t know this place. Legacy is a stranger to me as your parents are to you. I knew no matter what magic I had, there was no way for me to do it. And now, you’re here. This is my fate. You are.”
Chandler was silent as he attempted to process it, listening to the night sounds of Legacy. He’d grown used to them over the days spent traveling from the center of Legacy to Rockbryr. There had always been time to think and make decisions without having to rush. Most of that time had been spent coming to terms with where he was, who he was and what he was supposed to do. Still, it was times like this, with children declaring themselves into a war, he certainly wasn’t prepared to face. Angel gave him his silence, but before he could call back the words, he was speaking.
“I’d always imagined I would graduate high school, get into a college that would impress even my parents and then start a life that would matter to the people I cared about. Mostly, it was centered on the family I thought had been mine; the dad who worked out of town for months at a time or the mom who was so lost in raising a son alone she’d lost grip on right and wrong. I would be the son who brought them back together in their shared pride.
“All of this… this is not, at all, how I imagined it. Here I am, preparing children, getting ready to sacrifice them in a war I have doubts about winning. I have no doubts about what you’ve seen,” he said, turning to face Angel. “You’ve seen worse than war; worse than death and the destruction of hope that follows Drake in a black cloud. I don’t want to have to be the one to throw it all back at you; to put you in a place that would only bring back painful memories. I know what it’s like to remember things you wish you’d never seen or known. And—”
“We all know what we want,” she interrupted him. “We want happiness again. War, death… it’s the only way we’ll see it again. We know the risks, and we know we’ve never wanted anything more. This is what we want, so don’t go convincing yourself we’re doing it against our will.”
Their conversation hadn’t gone completely unnoticed. The closest adults were watching them both, but Chandler couldn’t understand why they looked so accepting and prepared. They were proud of what was being sacrificed. Somehow, he knew everyone else would be, too, but that only made all of this worse. Everything broke away into silence, and we were all left to watch the fiery embers die. Slowly, the people began to drift back into their cottages and into sleep. Chandler and Angel watched them go, taking with them the children who sleepily protested their late bedtime.
Most of them had cleared by the time Angel spoke again.
“Carter,” she began slowly as if she wasn’t quite sure of the name. Chandler nodded, and Angel started again, the name rolling off her with more confidence. “Carter told us you don’t know how to use your magic. He says we should help teach you.”
“It would help,” Chandler admitted. “Especially if you’re right about how I'm affected by being… well, me.” He stood and held down a hand to her. Angel took it and pulled herself to her feet, brushing dirt from her clothes. They started toward the manor.
“It’s a good idea. We all know what Drake is capable of, and we should have at least a fraction of the practical experience he does. Those of us who have magic will be willing, but Rose thinks all we have to do is teach the others how to touch their own magical cores before they can use the energy around them. I think that they won’t be willing to learn because they’ll be afraid of failing.”
Chandl
er sighed and went inside the manor, turning to eye the large staircases leading to the halls containing the Nephling’s rooms. “Instead of worrying about it right now, we should get some sleep.”
The morning found Chandler and less than twenty-five of the Nephling in the weapons room. He stood to the side, watching as they practiced their magic, instead of their wings, to bring the weapons down from the wall. Unlike Max, who had a subconscious control of her magic even as she acquired it, the Nephling required concentration. Angel had described it as them imagining the power working, instead of directing energy. For Chandler, she’d given him instruction to focus on energy. She wanted him to look at the world not as solid things but to see them as the energy from which they were created.
“The things you learned as a human don’t apply here. They believe what they do because they can’t see the magic in the worlds beyond theirs. Matter is energy; energy is magic. It can be created, and it can be destroyed,” Angel had said. “But it is important that you remember to create new energy once you can see its makeup. You create the energy you use; you can never just take what’s already here.”
“What happens if I do?” Chandler had asked.
“The energy you steal is already being used to form a living or once living thing. To steal that energy is to steal existence.”
So, there he was, practicing among them. He sat alone, farther away, gazing at the wooden box placed before him. Head cocked to one side, he looked and imagined the wood being stripped piece by piece. As they fell away, they began to dissolve into liquid dust, swirling into a sphere before him. Chandler watched as the entire box dissolved in front of his eyes and the floating dust pulsed.
One.
Two.
Three.
The dust pulsed one last time, then, just beside it, a similar sphere floated. Surprised, Chandler blinked, and when his eyes opened again, the wooden box was solid again, and the duplicate energy was swaying toward him elegantly. He felt the jolt as it touched his skin and stood. His blood was thrumming now, encouraging him. Chandler rose to his feet, gazing at his hands curiously as he raised them. He gave the energy no direction, but he released it into the room and felt the answering roar in his blood as the magic erupted. The walls around him, hanging with swords and maces of every shape and size, was being pounded as the metal trembled on their pegs, filling the room with noise. Chandler heard Rose laugh excitedly somewhere behind him and pushed it away as the rattling stopped. Blocking out the noise from the Nephling, he grasped at the remaining energy and released it.
His eyes widened when everything came surging from their hooks and nails. Even the ancient swords threw themselves against their display case. Turning head over heel, axes, javelins, lances and swords launched themselves at the occupants of the room. Chandler dropped into a crouch, one arm covering his head and the other shooting out to point at the weapons. He didn’t even think as he grasped desperately at the remaining energy before shooting it. The next sound he heard was the arsenal hitting the far wall of the room. Risking a glance around the arm blocking his view, Chandler sank to the floor completely as a bout of relief knocked away his balance.
That’s when his senses allowed the room to flood back in, and he turned to stare in disbelief at the Nephling. They were all jumping up and down; chattering like it was the best thing that could’ve happened. Angel, though, stood to the side and shook her head as if she was thinking about who would have to hang them all backup. Chandler picked himself up off the floor and looked over at the mess collapsed at the base of the wall. He groaned just as the door flew open, and Avan barged in. His sword was in hand, a fierce expression covering his face. Half of the other Nephling piled in behind him, looking around in excitement. Chandler scoffed at their enthusiasm for conflict and turned to Avan. The knight had already calmed down, seeing them all still in one piece, and his eyes were fastened on the pile of weapons next to the wall.
“We’re practicing!” Rose suddenly shouted. Chandler shrugged when eyes turned on him. “Anyone want to join?”
“I think I’ll sit this out,” Angel’s voice said from next to him. The hands that had risen were moving further into the room, but some others were leaving. Before Chandler could speak, she disappeared with them. He watched her small blonde head blend into the crowd even after he heard Carter ask if he wanted to try again. Finally, when the doorway was clear, and the door closed, Chandler turned back to find they’d already started handing the stuff back up. He went toward the wall, carefully stacking an armful of axes and swords and then took off.
Chandler’s training continued much the same way for the next couple of months. The longer he practiced, the better he came at using the energy directly or for a specific task. He used the weapons — which he could take from the wall and put back without extra labor — to perfect his magical coordination. Sometimes, he and the Nephling would skip doing anything altogether, and he found that no matter how much more developed they were, they liked to play and have fun just like any child on Earth. A lot of times, he forgot what they were there for and why their own happiness wasn’t the only thing that mattered. Even Avan began to loosen up, and it was usual for him to leave his armor and sword in his room. Once, Rose had even gotten him to smile.
Against everything, Chandler grew close to each of the Nephling. Despite their attitudes in the beginning, Nate and Matthew were close to Angel and always took her side when one of the Nephling debates started. There was another boy, Roznan, who had something Avan called a brain deficiency. Near the beginning, when Avan was still so focused on winning a war that hadn’t begun yet, Chandler had found himself at odds with the knight for the first time.
They’d been in the grand hall late one night after the Nephling had gone to their rooms. Leon was sitting on the table, his feet firmly planted in a chair. His hands rested on his legs, and his sword was beside him. Avan was standing next to Chandler at the corner of the table. Chandler was sitting at the side, looking over the list of the names they were examining. They’d gathered a few minutes before, but there was anything yet to be said.
“We have an army. Even if it may be less than a hundredth of Drake’s, we have the advantage,” Avan spoke up. “With their power and yours, we have a chance in this.” He looked at Chandler. “That girl, Angel, she knows the magic far better than she’s letting on. She knows how to control it while the others barely manage it. You’ll have to convince her to use it to her full potential, but until then—” Avan took his finger from her name, dragging it down to the boy, Roznan. “When Drake first took over, something in the universe changed. Species began to reverse evolution, and the fast change caused something. This boy is a direct result of that. Everything about his brain is half of what it should be. Now, if we were as oblivious to the fact that this makes him the strongest of us all, we would put him out of his misery and send his head to Drake on a silver platter. But we know because his evolution is backward, Drake knows nothing about it. Since we know, we can use him.”
“I won’t do that,” Chandler said, furrowing his brows. “Do you have any idea how cruel you sound? We can’t just use people like that.”
“You have no choice!” Avan growled, louder than anyone had ever heard him. “We are at war, whether they believe you’re on their side or not. I’m doing my best to help you win, so you have to trust me.”
For a moment, Chandler stared at him. Leon watched the two of them, his hand clenched around the hilt of his sword. He was waiting for someone to make a decision, but Chandler wouldn’t have said who he would have listened to.
Chandler was no leader, and Avan was probably right. He’d been in Legacy for less than a week. He didn’t know what to make of his situation, let alone argue with a man who’d lived here long enough to know the rules, written and unwritten. But he was here, the result of prophecy and forbidden magic. He was the Nephalem who’d learned he was the only hope for a dimension that had long forgotten what it was to be free. It was his job, his
destiny, to make sure they knew what freedom was.
“No. I won’t trust you; not in this, Avan,” Chandler replied, standing. “He’s eight years old, and I won’t have you turning him into a weapon. I’m sending him to live with a family in the village, and that’s the end of it. Find something else to be your war machine.”
But by now, Chandler was sure Avan wasn’t even interested in the situation with Drake. And it seemed that neither was Chandler. Drake had left them in peace since he’d sent them here as long as the rents arrive at Legacy castle in a timely manner at the start of each month. The man had even sent letters back sometimes though it was obvious they were written by Zafrina. They never said much, but she was still trying to pretend that everything could be okay and that the three of them could still be family, despite her behavior in the past. But, for Chandler, the Nephling had become his family. Everyone could feel the change, and they were happier; friendlier. And once, in a moment of temporary insanity, Chandler taught them how to play football.
It reminded him of Rory every time he saw them attempt to play a wing-friendly version of the game. Chandler tried his best to hide his worry when he thought about his friend, but Angel saw right through him. He knew she had her own worries, too. He’d told her about Rory; how he’d taught Chandler to play and never resented him when Chandler surpassed him. Chandler also shared his worry for Max, who hadn’t tried to contact him again. But the two kept their feelings between them and embraced what they had while they had it.
Late at night, Chandler wandered the halls until he came to the only door still open. He could see the pale moonlight stretching across the room and lighting the hall. He moved toward it, leaning in the doorway and moving his eyes over the three small figures that slept soundly. The other little girl that should have occupied one of the available spaces was up near the ceiling, flapping her small wings as fast as she could. Her eyes were worried, and if he hadn’t seen her at first, her whimpers would have alerted Chandler to her, eventually. Sweat dripped from Angel’s face, and her teeth pressed to her lip hard, drawing blood that fell to the white carpet. Her eyes were wide as she faced the wall, hands reaching for anything to keep her up in the air.
