The Antithesis- The Complete Pentalogy

by Terra Whiteman

  I found two soldiers in the hall and ordered them to take Yahweh to the shower rooms so he could clean up. As they walked away, the kid didn’t even look at me. His head was down, eyes cast to the floor, shame marking his face. I watched them until they disappeared around the corner, and then I radioed for my brother to meet me in the conference room.

  He was going to love the news I had for him.

  * * *

  “Hello, Isa.”

  “Qaira, is your family alright?”

  “Yes, we’re fine. I was calling Parliament to verify that you and the others are safe?”

  “Yes, we’re all at Parliament trying to stave off media and the officials. It’ll be a long night for us.”

  “I’d like to hold a meeting with the council tomorrow morning, if that’s alright with you? Every one of you must attend, as I think I’ve found a way to stop the Archaeans once and for all.”

  “Oh?” Isa sounded surprised; I could have sworn I’d heard disappointment in her voice. But that could have just been my paranoia. “What do you have planned?”

  “I don’t have time to explain. I should be with my family.”

  “I understand. Does seven-thirty work for you?”

  “Yes, it does. I’ll see you and the Eye of Akul bright and early.”

  “Goodnight, Regent.”

  On our televised screen, news reports played footage of me leaping across rooftops and slaughtering the angel gunmen on loop. The headline read: SANCTUM’S SAVIOR. The media loved me or hated me, all depending on the day. But then they showed a crowd of spectators chanting ‘Savior’ over and over again as the enforcers fought the fires on Main Street. My sister sat on the couch, watching, glass-eyed and crestfallen.

  “Tae, are you alright?”

  “So much death,” she whispered, wincing as fresh tears fell from her eyes. “I can’t take it anymore, Qaira.”

  I leaned her into me and she rested her head on my shoulder, sniffling. “It’ll be over soon,” I promised, eyes on the screen. I didn’t have the heart to tell her what I’d found out tonight. She couldn’t handle it. Not yet.

  When Tae retreated to bed, I searched for Leid. I hadn’t seen her since the Commons.

  I was exhausted but couldn’t go to sleep knowing she was angry at me. She had every right to be, but I at least wanted her to know that I didn’t break our oath. She wasn’t in her room or the research laboratory; there was only one other place that she could be.

  Sure enough, the mournful sound of her cello floated from the music room and through the hallway of my estate. The song was sad. Leid never played any other kind.

  I approached the music room slowly, trying to give myself some time to think of a good way to apologize. Ideally, my apology wouldn’t be an actual apology. I’m sorry wasn’t an easy thing to say. For me, at least. But I owed her something.

  The music faded as I reached the doorway. I paused in the threshold, my expression falling to confusion. Leid sat there with her head hung, bow drooped at her side. The cello rested crookedly between her legs, its neck across her knee.

  A minute passed. She didn’t move.

  “Leid?” I called, cautious.

  Nothing.

  I took a step into the room. Something didn’t feel right. The air was weird; like the gravity had shifted and its weight made my legs heavier than usual. “Leid.”

  The silence broke when she started to sing. The sound of her voice startled me, and I jumped.

  ‘On the edge of love and death, count to ten and hold your breath,

  The Ocean of Maghir is calling, so place your courage to the test’

  A hymn of Moritoria. Even the beauty of her voice couldn’t mask the song’s morbidity. I took another step into the room, even though instinct was telling me to run.

  “Approach, approach, approach…”

  Another step. Now I was within arm’s reach of her.

  “Leid,” I whispered. “Stop playing around.”

  She lifted her head, hair sliding from her face. Grey veins wriggled beneath her skin like animated roots. Her eyes were pitch black, and she smiled at me from ear to ear.

  I recoiled, tripping over my own feet and crashing into a collection of wind instruments. Leid collapsed from the chair, my mother’s cello slamming into the floor beside her. She clutched her throat, coughing violently.

  I watched from where I’d fallen, too frightened to move. When her coughing didn’t let up, concern smothered that fear.

  “Leid!” I shouted, battling the pile of instruments around me. “Are you hurt?”

  She curled in response; forehead against the ground, arms tucked into her chest.

  “Are you hurt!?” I shouted again.

  I broke free, crawling to her. She collapsed into my arms and when I looked at her face, it was normal again. Her violet eyes were wild and frightened, chest heaving as she tried to catch her breath.

  I didn’t know what else to do, so I held her as tightly as I could. Eventually her breathing slowed and her body relaxed.

  “Are you alright?” I asked.

  “Yes,” she said, weakly.

  “What happened?”

  “I… I don’t know.”

  I wanted to ask her about her face, but I wasn’t sure if that had been real.

  Leid pulled away from me and smoothed her hair. Her face was flushed with stress and shame. She averted my eyes for a few minutes, collecting the cello and placing it back into its case. When she latched it shut, she murmured, “It happens sometimes.”

  “What happens?”

  “Panic attacks.”

  I stared, incredulous. “Your panic attacks are a lot different than anyone else’s.”

  She smiled, looking down. “I am not like anyone else.”

  True enough. “Was it because of me? Of what happened in the Commons?”

  “I… don’t know, really. That could be it, but sometimes they happen for no reason at all.”

  “I came here to apologize. I’m sorry for the way that I treated you. You didn’t deserve that. I was angry.”

  Leid hung her head. She said nothing.

  “I didn’t hurt him. Well, not badly. I had to take some measures to get Raith to talk, but I did it, Leid. I found out who the insurgent—”

  And then I realized she was crying.

  At first all I did was stare as Leid sobbed quietly into her hands, my face twisting with confusion. This wasn’t the worst fight we’d ever had; something else was going on. Something I didn’t know about.

  I knelt beside her and scooped her up, catching a brief glimpse of her face. I tried to hide my shock. Leid’s tears were crimson colored. Scholars cried blood. I didn’t say anything and let her sob on my shoulder. I’d have to burn my shirt later.

  As sad and confusing as all this was, a small part of me was happy for it. Leid had seen the worst side of me, and now here she was, letting me know that there was something dark and painful beneath her surface, too. Even if she never told me what it was, I was just satisfied knowing she felt safe enough to fall apart on me.

  “Did you feel guilt?” she whispered.

  “What?”

  She pulled her face away from my shoulder and looked up at me. Her eyes and cheeks were smeared with blood. It was kind of horrifying, but I couldn’t take my gaze off her. “When you hurt Yahweh, did you feel any guilt?”

  “Yeah,” I sighed.

  She smiled, cupping my face. “That’s good. You need to embrace your guilt. Revel in it.”

  “Nehel are taught that guilt is weakness.”

  “You’re wrong. Guilt is the marker between man and monster.”

  “Which do you think I am?”

  “Which do you think you are?”

  My eyes left hers and I gazed at the floor, letting that question hang.

  XIX

  CRUELTY AND COMPASSION

  AT SEVEN THIRTY SHARP, AN ANTHEM OF marching boots stormed through the Parliament lobby. Officials and workers
moved aside as fifty enforcers made their way to the second floor, led by Commandant Ara Eltruan.

  Crowds of employees observed them with curious frowns, whispering amongst each other. The Sanctum guards standing watch by the doors did nothing to stop Ara’s men. They would never dare to question Special Forces.

  This was not a typical day for anyone. Enforcers specialized in apprehending Archaeans; but today, their targets were Nehelians.

  My ears caught sound of their approach before I saw them. I was waiting in front of the Council Room, keeping the secretary in his seat by a firm grip on his shoulder. My eyes darted to each and every soldier as they passed, marching through the double doors and disappearing into the shadows. When the thunder of feet ceased, I let go of the secretary and headed for the door.

  “If you’re not here when I get back,” I said over my shoulder, “my men will gun you down.”

  The secretary only sat there, glaring at me.

  I walked through the cool, dimly-lit hall of the Council Room—the throne room, where the Eye of Akul worked their deadliest machinations. Was it here where they’d planned our assassinations? Was it here where they’d communicated with Commander Raith? Everything had happened right under my nose. Thinking about it made me sick.

  And thinking about what I had to do made me even sicker.

  But I hid it well, sliding from the shadows of the line of enforcers, emerging front and center. The Eye of Akul were standing behind their podiums, looking over the soldiers with confusion in their eyes.

  “Regent, what is the meaning of this?” demanded Isa.

  “I thank you all for being so punctual,” I said, completely ignoring her. “There isn’t much time, so I’ll just dive right in.”

  I cleared my throat, sliding a folded piece of paper out of my breast pocket. “The Regent of Sanctum stands as a symbol of our honor, strength and courage. He represents the Nehelian torch—our flame against the darkness of The Atrium. The Regent is Moritoria reincarnate, the blessed Kings of Maghir, attesting to the ever-prevalent nature of our race.”

  The council stared at me, their confusion waning. I was reading the speech that Isa had given at the ceremony last night, two hours before it had turned into a slaughter. I imagined their brains as gears, clicking chaotically as they realized where this was all going.

  “Sanctum, the Regent is our shield, protecting us from the dangers of ourselves and enemies. It is his duty to exterminate those intending us harm, those committing treason—”

  “Qaira,” Kanar interjected, “whatever it is that you think we’ve—”

  “The next person to interrupt me will get a bullet in his head.” I waited, looking over all seven of their worry-creased faces. No one made a sound. “Now, where was I? Oh. Therefore, we place down our lives, ourselves, to uphold the safety and integrity of our people. For Sanctum.” I crumpled the piece of paper in my fist, throwing it over my shoulder. “Di Sanctum,” I said again, lip curling with indignance.

  The council looked at each other.

  “I’m about to put your claim of loyalty and selflessness to the test. I ask that the insurgent make his or herself known to me. If no one steps forward, I’ll be forced to assume that all of you are insurgents. Surely a selfless person wouldn’t condemn six innocent people to die.”

  Silence.

  “Either way, you’re going to die. You might as well come forward and spare your partners’ lives.”

  “We don’t know what you’re talking about, Qaira,” Kanar said, his voice a shaking whisper. “On what grounds can you accuse us of treason?”

  “Commander Raith gave you up, sorry to say. He doesn’t know which one of you it is, but fortunately that means shit to me. I’ll kill every single one of you without batting an eye.”

  Still, nothing. Isa sank to her seat, sobbing into her hands. Kanar and Shev glared at me, shock and disgust taking turns with their expressions. Everyone else began to plead, begging me to let them go. They weren’t the insurgents, they said. They didn’t know anything about anything.

  “I’m going to give you thirty seconds,” I announced, glancing at my watch. My enforcers raised their rifles in unison, pointing them at the council.

  The crowd went wild.

  “Qaira, listen to me!” shouted Kanar. “How could you even think that I would betray you? I was there the day that you were born! I’ve been your father’s friend for thousands of years!”

  “Twenty seconds.”

  There was a moment when I’d noticed a change in Shev’s expression—a faint glimmer of recognition. We shared a look, and I knew.

  But he didn’t say anything.

  “Times up,” I announced, tapping my watch. With those words, the shouts faded. “This morning you all have proven your worthlessness to Sanctum and its people.” I tossed Ara a sidelong glance, but he didn’t return it. He was too busy seething at the council. “As you know, my brother lost someone very special to him last night, and I’m sure there are a few things he’d like to say. Or, maybe not. Nevertheless, I’ll leave him to it.”

  Silence.

  “I thank you all for your years of service to us.” I turned, heading for the door. “Unfortunately, Sanctum has outgrown you.”

  The screams erupted again, and now they were belligerent. I caught ‘monster’ and ‘disgrace’ several times before Ara shouted, “Aim!”

  As the doors closed behind me, gunshots erupted through the council room. The screams peaked, and then all was silent once again.

  Like an obedient pet, the secretary hadn’t moved. He stared up at me with wide, horror-stricken eyes as I came around his desk and patted him once on the shoulder.

  “You’re fired.”

  * * *

  “This is Ysana Lima with Sanctum Public Broadcast. Our station interrupts your regularly scheduled program to announce some shocking news.

  “This morning at approximately eight o’clock, an enforcer strike team marched on Parliament, led by Commandant Ara Eltruan under the instruction of Regent Qaira Eltruan, and executed all seven members of the Eye of Akul. Digital Forensic Investigations has announced that the Eye of Akul was found guilty of treason, providing the Archaean rebel forces with information that aided in over a dozen acts of violent war crimes. Last night’s Archaean strike on Upper Sanctum’s 8th District left over two hundred Nehelians dead, along with three Sanctum officials in critical condition at Eroqam Medical Facility.

  “Investigations are still pending, but it is already confirmed that military files containing hundreds of facility access codes have been compromised. Eroqam database forensics has discovered evidence linking the Eye of Akul to over twelve terrorist attacks over the past year.

  “Although our Regent has declined to speak in front of the camera, he made this statement to the press:

  ‘My heart goes out to all of those who lost someone yesterday night, and I only wish I’d found the perpetrators sooner. The Eye of Akul fooled us all, and Eroqam shares your shock. I will be doing everything that I can to right the wrongs caused by my ignorance, and I ask that you once again put your faith in me. I still promise you prosperity, council or no council.’

  “Regent Qaira Eltruan led our defending forces to victory last night against impossible odds. I think it’s safe to say that Sanctum truly has a savior.”

  I shut the screen off, massaging my head.

  My sister sat beside me, hands clasped over her mouth. She was going to see it sooner or later; might as well be sooner.

  “Why… why didn’t you tell me?”

  “I didn’t know how to. You were a wreck last night.”

  “I can’t believe it,” she breathed. “I…can’t.”

  “Yeah,” I said quietly.

  “They tried to kill you, Qaira.”

  “I know. I was there.”

  “They tried to kill Ara.”

  I leaned forward, elbows propped on my knees. “They’re gone. Don’t worry.”

  Tae stood, pacing t
he living room. I watched her, concerned.

  “Is everyone in Sanctum trying to kill us?”

  “No.”

  “Am I even safe to leave our house?”

  “Yes, Tae. Calm down. The threat has been taken care of.”

  “How can you be so sure? Kanar was like a second father to us, and he tried to have you killed! If we can’t even trust our own family—”

  “The only people you should trust are me and Ara.”

  “Gee, thanks,” Leid muttered from the dining room. I’d forgotten she was here.

  “And Leid,” I fumbled, wincing in error.

  Tae retreated to the kitchen for a stiff drink, and I stared at our blank televised screen. I thought about the look Shev had given me. Although I wasn’t certain that he’d acted alone, it was quite possible that I had murdered six innocent people today. No, not just people. The Eye of Akul; the council that had served as my leash.

  But now the shackles were off. I had total control of Sanctum. There was nothing stopping me from complete annihilation of the Archaean race. That execution had been a means to an end; for the ultimate good.

  That was what I kept telling myself.

  * * *

  The digital lock beeped, followed by a click.

  I opened the door to Yahweh’s room, finding him on his bed, scribbling something down in a notebook. As he wrote, he glanced at another book that Lucifer had given him. He ignored me, but I knew he’d heard the lock disengage.

  “What are you doing?” I asked.

  “Nothing,” he muttered, closing the notebook. I’d caught a glimpse of strange symbols that weren’t in Archaean, framed with calculations across each page. The book from which he read was a biomedical dictionary.

  It was late in the evening now and due to the recent events, we had cancelled our plans to work on the prototype. I placed his dinner on the desk while he stared at his lap, scratching the bandage on his cheek. It was clear that he didn’t want to talk to me, and I didn’t blame him.