by T Ariyanna
Chains were welded into the metal to give definition where muscles would be, and Kaitlyn could recognize silver clock hands wrapping around the creature’s neck. Large thin scales covered the shoulders, sides, and hips of the creature, as well as the arms. Slick, black glass tipped the beast’s fingers and ears, coming to sharp points. Along the length of its back laid a detailed etching of bat wings, folded neatly within the curving metal.
As Kaitlyn studied the creature, she found more designs covering nearly every inch of its body. A shallow etching of fire furled from the creature’s nostrils, and smoke billowed to mask the eyes. The stomach had a design of smooth waves that hinted at a storm brewing within. Above the engraved sea rested a distant mountain range she had long gazed at through her window, imagining the grand adventures that took place there. The legs of the creature were the simplest, holding only patterns of spots and swirls. Though there seemed to be no rhyme or reason to the etchings, Kaitlyn found herself getting lost in the mindless drawings.
Gears spun at its temples as it ground its jaws together. It was muttering something, the small pieces of metal of its mouth gliding and lapping over each other like lips. Its purple eyes shined from the dark depths of its face, lighting some of the intricacy within its head. Two beams intersected each other just behind the eyes, and thick wires spiraled out from them to hold each inch of the head in place.
The creature threw its hands up in exasperation and flailed them around. Kaitlyn caught a glimpse of its left hand, a faint lightning bolt carved into the metal on the palm. Kaitlyn gasped. Why would it would have Arion's mark? Arion had told her once that Mage markings were unique and specific to each Mage, passed down only through blood. This was clear in his mother, a faded lightning bolt within her pale white hand. But this was nothing more than a creation. Would Arion have given it his own mark?
But why? she asked herself. She examined the creature, looking past the varying designs. She didn't expect an answer to be found so easily, and she gasped when one came to her.
Jut under the cracks in the metal, she could see a faint green glow that pulsed in the emptiness, racing like lightning. Kaitlyn leaned to the side to get another angle at the creature, and she saw more of the same glow at its sides. It looked as though it was rushing through the body, like blood.
Kaitlyn looked down with the realization, her eyes filling with tears. Whatever this is, Arion gave it his magic for it to live.
A tear trickled down her cheek, and she sniffed. If Arion wanted it to live, I can at least call it by its name.
“Cyllorian,” she whispered. She had heard Theresa call it that, though it didn't respond well. She wondered if it disliked its name, or perhaps just the one speaking it. They certainly didn't seem to be getting along very well.
“What was that?” Its voice sounded not far from her, and her head shot up with a start. She held her breath, but not before a startled squeak escaped her lips. She stared into its dark purple eyes, knowing the fear in her own that betrayed her.
“You said my name, didn't you?” It tried again. Its features looked softer than they had a moment ago when addressing Theresa, somehow able to express emotion. The glow from its eyes dimmed. She almost thought that it was sad.
Kaitlyn held her breath and froze under its gaze. She spread her hands out beside her, and tried to scoot away. The creature was more than a foot away from her, but its presence unnerved her. She wanted nothing more than to get away.
To her surprise, the creature's face softened more. It sighed, then held its hand out to her. She stared at it, fear holding her in place. It dropped its hand after a long moment, and squatted down to her eye level.
“You don’t trust me. Not that I blame you, we were never properly introduced before. We don’t have all the time in the world, so there’s not many options for you. You’re going to have to trust me, eventually. But if you want to just go home and get away from me, say it now.”
She shook her head slowly, her gaze glued to the mechanics of its face as it talked. It was all so intricate. It made her wonder what her muscles would look like moving under her skin.
The creature gave her a small smile, and her breath caught in her throat. “How about I just tell you what I know, then you can decide if I'm worth trusting. Does that sound good?”
Its voice was so hopeful, as though her opinion truly did make a difference. When she didn't know what to say, it took it as a sign to continue.
“My name is Cyllorian, but the kid over there always called me Cy. He thought my name was too much of a mouthful.” It chuckled at itself, and Kaitlyn could easily hear the sorrow in it. “I may not look like much, but I'm a demon. Long story short, I’ve gone through a lot of, let’s say ‘vessels.’ I wound up inside Arion's head, and I was there for quite a few years. I got to know him, and I got to know you.
“I know that you could take Kraven down if he picked on other kids, but you never cared if he came after you. Unless he gets your books dirty, then he really had it coming. You always have a book with you, but it's usually the same one over and over. The one about the princess in the desert.
“You always wanted to be a heroine, like her. You wanted to be strong, and selfless. This is your chance to save someone's life. More than just one life. You could save a lot of people. The kid may not be ‘here,’ but he ain’t gone for good, I know that. I need to get him back, so I can kick his ass for being so reckless. I may be good, but I'm not good enough to do it alone, and I'm honestly not sure how much help the old woman is going to be. Will you help me?”
The creature held its hand out to her, and she glanced at it. The bolt etched into the metal was so familiar, so comforting. She looked back at the creature's eyes, full of desperation. Through all the anger, she could tell it was just as lost in this as she was.
She raised her hand, hating how it shook. Carefully, she traced the lightning bolt in the metal, and green sparks flew out from under her fingers. The metal was cool, but it felt good on her skin.
She pressed her palm to its hand. His, she corrected herself finally. He isn't an it.
He gripped her hand and smiled at her. She looked away from him, her stomach twisting. He pulled her to her feet, legs wobbling beneath her. Cyllorian caught her, and she pressed one hand to the wall to steady herself. She swallowed the lump at her throat, fighting the urge to push him away from her.
“Thank you. Cy,” she said through the haze that had settled over her mind.
Too much has happened. Way too much. I need to sleep.
Cy's hands tightened on her arms for a second, but she ignored it. Any minute now, she was sure she’d lose her calm. It was everything she could do just to keep herself sane.
“Who were you calling old?” Theresa asked, coming up behind Cy. He rolled her eyes at her and clenched his jaw, but said nothing. He released one of Kaitlyn's arms, but kept a light grip on the other to keep her upright. Though his touch was awkward and unwanted, she was glad that he didn't let go. She admitted to needing the help right now, even if it was from an odd metal creature.
Cy stepped aside to face Theresa. “I think it would be best if you showed her to a room. I'll take care of the kid.”
Theresa nodded, and took Kaitlyn's arm from him. Theresa's hand was hot on the cooled spot on her arm, and she jerked under the drastic change. Her eyes flickered sheepishly between the two.
Theresa put her arm around her in a loving motion, but the action seemed alien to her. The woman alternated between rubbing and patting Kaitlyn's back as she led her to the stairs. Theresa settled for simply lying her hand between her shoulder blades, much like she had when she had healed Kaitlyn.
As they ascended the stairs, Kaitlyn glanced over her shoulder at Cyllorian. He was staring at Arion's body, and the look on his face nearly broke her heart.
Cyllorian
Theresa led Kaitlyn up the stairs from the dungeon. Cyllorian slumped where he stood, exhausted. He let out a great sigh, though he’d quickly
found that he didn't need to breathe in this new body of his. He had a heart, and veins of magic, but that was all. The rest of him was hollow, filled with parts to help him move. He felt empty, emotionless and lost. He barked a bitter laugh at the irony that he had gotten a body that mirrored exactly how he felt.
After a long moment alone, he was sure that Theresa and Kaitlyn had gone far enough into the castle that they wouldn’t hear him speak. He walked over to Arion's body and stared at the peaceful expression on his face. It was one he had seen often while the boy slept, but this was clearly different. All the color had gone from his skin. There was no pulse to be seen on the boy's neck, no rising and falling of his chest as he breathed. There was nothing left of the boy, either. They had both been stripped of everything, and Cy had never felt closer to the boy.
“What happened to us, kid? Things were goin’ so well. What did we do wrong?” Cy asked aloud, his strange voice reverberating around the room. He cringed at the sound of, at how different it was. He stared down at the etching in his left hand, where Kaitlyn had traced it. Though it was glowing, he didn’t see the magic there. He didn’t see the wonder of this body, only the cold metal that reflected back his own grotesque face made of twisted metal.
He forced himself to focus. Cy bent down and scooped Arion into his arms. It sagged between in his grip, and he hefted it up higher. Arion's limbs dangled to the side, swinging side to side as Cy walked.
Cy had never realized just how much Arion had meant to him in the end, how much a demon could care for another. He and Arion had been the same, abandoned by their mother. They were bound to each other by magic and fate. They were brothers, regardless of how long it took Cyllorian to accept it.
He trudged up the stairs carefully, as if the boy was sleeping. There was no strain on Cy from the weight of the body, and he carried it easily. But the truth that the corpse carried drug on him, and his feet were heavy as he marched through the castle.
It was a truth that Cy had yet to admit to himself, was too afraid to face. But with the boy's body so lifeless in his arms, with Arion's magic flowing freely throughout his own body, he couldn't hold it back anymore.
Arion's dead, he finally thought to himself. He stopped in his tracks as the words rushed through his mind, over and over. He stood frozen in the middle of the hallway, clutching the body to his chest. He tightened his grip on the boy as guilt flooded him. What could he have done differently? Could he have saved Arion if he had changed one thing? Had he been too selfish, too distant?
Was Arion dead because of him?
Cy dropped his head, his body rattling. He gulped down large bouts of air, but it did nothing to help him. It merely whirled around in his empty chest, whistling as it raced around the steel skeleton. Small sparks of magic shot off of him from gaps in his body, and glided along him until it dripped off of him like sweat. The drops sizzled on the floor, singing the stone.
He held the boy tighter, sure that his grip would have bruised the fragile body if it didn't have the preservation spell over it. He knew this body wouldn't let him cry. That alone made it worse. He couldn't even properly grieve the loss.
Cy stumbled to the side, falling against the wall. He turned so his back hit the wall rather than Arion. He grunted in the discomfort and slid down the wall to the floor. Resting the boy in his lap, Cyllorian stared at the ceiling.
Everything looked different through his own eyes. The cracks in the walls were clearer, the paintings more vibrant. It was as though he was seeing everything for the first time. But at the same time, everything lost its extravagance when he didn't have the amusement of Arion's endless wonder. He stared at everything like it was the most amazing thing in the world, his magic especially.
At least he had, until Cy had tainted him. He knew he was to blame for Arion’s change, filling the kid’s head with his own anger and hatred until it was too much for either of them. Cy could never find it in himself to look at anything like Arion had. It was all tarnished by anger and pain.
“I'll get you back, kid. Theresa’s got a plan. I’d be lying if I said I completely trust her, though. But don't worry, we'll be fighting in no time, you'll see. And if you thought you were going to get rid of me that easy, then I'm just gonna have to knock some sense into you when you get back.” Cy rubbed one hand over his face and sighed.
“I'll get my brother back.” With his resolution spoken aloud as a reminder, Cyllorian gathered the body in his arms again. He marched through the castle with his shoulders squared. He fought against the weight that threatened to bury him, determined to rise up despite it.
Kaitlyn
“Why did Arion have to get rid of that candle from before? Now I'm lost,” Kaitlyn muttered as she wandered through the dark halls of the castle. She wrapped her arms around her form, uncomfortable in the thin nightgown that Theresa had lent her. She squinted at the paintings she passed in the dark and groaned.
“I swear I've gone through this hallway a dozen times! Where am I? I just wanted to get a drink!” She spun around and looked behind her, but there was nothing familiar to be found. There were a few windows set in the walls, too high to see out of. The moon shone in to show a hallway that looked just like all the others.
“I guess I'll just turn around and try to back track. This place is too big to try to navigate at night.” She trudged back the way she came, but the hallways never looked any different. Her head drooped and she drug her feet on the ground. She leaned against the wall sleepily as she walked, closing her eyes in frustration.
“Stupid magic castle,” she said, her voice muddled by sleep. “Why can’t there be a map? Or a guide?”
The wall fell away underneath her, and she tripped onto the ground. She sprawled out into an intersection, a faint light visible at the end of the adjoining hall. Curiosity taking over her, she got to her feet mindlessly and followed the light.
She ran her hand along the stones as she stalked the illumination. A door was cracked and the light spilled out from it. It was a deep purple, and flickered from inside the room. Kaitlyn poked her head into the small space the door had opened and stared in shock.
Cyllorian stood at the far end of a small room, bare of any decoration. It held a bed that looked unused, and a desk with a candle. A large, purple flame nestled atop the candle, and Cyllorian stood in its glow. He was turned away from her, but she could see the side of his face. He looked sullen and exhausted, his head hanging.
Her curiosity overtook her, leaving her woes far behind. She crept closer, her hand resting upon the door to push it open. Her lips parted to announce herself, but he moved and startled her into silence. With a moment to think, her mind won over her morals. What if he was lying before? I should see what he does when he's alone, to know if I can actually trust him.
She shrunk against the door frame, watching the metal demon anxiously.
Cyllorian put his hand into the flame, and the fire lapped at the metal until it turned red from the heat. He removed his hand, and stroked his other arm with his fingers. They left welts in the plating where he touched. His face contorted with the pain, but the hand was steady on his arm.
He dropped his heated hand to his side, staring at his arm. The metal twisted on itself a moment longer. A wave of green lightning raced over the metal, restoring his arm to its original state on contact. Cyllorian let out a sigh, and dropped his arm. With his left hand, he rubbed his right shoulder.
He doesn't have muscles to ache, so what is he doing? Kaitlyn thought. Kaitlyn stretched herself to get a better view, careful to stay silent and out of sight.
Cy's fingers found a clasp high on his shoulder, then another low one on his side, both hidden under the top layer of metal sheets. Leather straps released, and he swung his chest plate open. He turned to lean one hand on the desk, the other buried in his chest. He gave a small smile at the green light that emanated from within himself, chuckling bitterly.
“You really went all out, didn't you, kid? You probably th
ought I wouldn't notice it, but I knew you better than you knew yourself. For a while I did, at least. But why give it to me? Did you really give up, after all that fighting you did?”
Cyllorian spoke softly, but Kaitlyn was sure of the sadness she heard in his voice. She lowered her head and began to back away. The guilt of spying was eating away at her, despite the mistrust she felt a few moments before. Just as she turned away, Cyllorian spoke again, and his words stunned her in place.
“I know you didn't want her to get into this, but it's a bit late now. I don't think she'd let us take her home, even if she could go back. I don’t know what they’d do with her after she killed their prized pet. They might even have a price on her head now. But I won't let anything happen to her, just like I know you'd want. I'm going to fix everything, Arion. Theresa said your body’s dead, but you’re not lost. Wherever you are, don’t get too comfortable. This is just a break for you, not retirement. Before you know it, everything's gonna be right back to normal. I promise. Normal.”
Cyllorian ended his monologue in another sigh. Kaitlyn watched him close his chest and turn back to the desk. He leaned against it, all the weight of the world seeming to crash down on his shoulders.
Kaitlyn snuck away from his room as quietly as she could, tears stinging her eyes. She swallowed them down and glanced back into the room. Cyllorian was still bent over the desk, running his hand over his head nervously.
Biting her lip, Kaitlyn made her choice. She straightened herself and scrubbed the tears from her eyes, then held her breath to face her fear. Making her steps obviously loud, she walked back to the room. She opened the door with a creak and knocked lightly. “Cyllorian?” she said, faking her surprise at finding him.
He whirled around on the spot, his left hand flying to his chest. She saw his fingers twitch towards the clasps hidden away, and she avoided looking at them. “Kaitlyn? What are you doing? Why are you wandering around?” Cy’s questions came out in a rush. His eyes darted all around, seemingly afraid to land on hers. Now that she had caught the demon off guard, he was far less intimidating.
