《The Decay of Auria》


 Prologue

    There was only pain and agony. She felt her insides burning, her veins filled with boiling oil and her skin being pricked by countless thorns at the same time. Her heart was madly pounding, her muscles felt like waking up for the first time after ages, contracting in tormenting spasms and each and every bone in her body felt like being broken repeatedly, again and again and then... again. Then...


    Her vision went black.


    Iarvahr watched the whole process with sadness and pain radiating from his teared up eyes. At first, he was pleasantly surprised that she woke up after such a short time, but all this pain, all this madness... to see a child enduring such agony, it was almost too much to bear. A thought of ending her misery with a sharp blade has crossed his mind more than once.


    He was shivering from fatigue ¨C for many long hours, he was cleaning the wounds of the child in front of him, trying to get rid of all the pus and filth oozing from her tiny, almost fairy-like body.  He did not even dare to estimate what exactly the thick grayish ooze was, but it felt unnatural and smelt of machine oil used by machinists and mechanics all around the Citadel workshops. But she was not from Citadel, and there were no machinists and mechanics outside of Citadel walls. Alchemists were enthusiastically trying to determine the origin and purpose of the ooze, but to no avail. One thing was almost certain ¨C it was not made by her own body.


    Her wounds were healing quickly, without any complications caused by inflammation or infection. She was very strange, this little girl ¨C he doubted that even himself, at his physical peak, would be able to survive such wounds. But she... despite all the torment and pain she was suffering from, she endured.


    Watching her sleeping silently, he filled his beautifully carved pipe with herbal mixture and lit it. It got him thinking...


    ***


    Her second awakening was accompanied by a lone, short cry. A flash of memory, her remembering the pain of her abused body, perhaps the only experience she had of the living world. Pain, agony, and torment.


    She tried to pull her hands from underneath the heavy blanket that was covering her. After a bit of painless struggle, she was successful and for a few moments, she watched the thick, heavy smoke dancing between her fingers, gently caressing her pale skin.


    She tried to sit. Every movement was a painless struggle, as if her muscles were not used to do anything, yet they were fully formed and strong. Sle felt like moving through thick honey ¨C a sweet product of bees she had no idea how she knew of...


    Bees, small insects living off of flowers, armed with painful stingers they lose in the defense of hive...


    Flowers, miracles of nature, colorful, aromatic, poisonous, toxic, healing...


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    She looked around the room she woke up in. It was simply furnished ¨C wooden chair without cushion, small table, a bed with large pillows and thick blanket, a window made of glass. On a table, there was a large bowl with heavy smoke rising from it in curly, almost flame-like patterns.


    She knew those things, all of them... their names, their purpose, but she did not remember them until she saw them.


    A raven landed on the window sill and pecked on the window glass with its beak. It was looking right at her, with its head tilted to a side in a curious manner.


    A heavy door opened silently and a tall, broad shouldered man with a shaved head walked in. His eyes immediately widened when he saw her sitting and after a moment, a warm smile spread across his face. Intuitively, she returned the smile.


    He made a strange, unfamiliar noise with his mouth. Judging by the fading smile on his face, she must have made a strange face, but she composed herself right away and smiled again. He pointed to his face and body and with a clear voice, he slowly said ?Iarvahr.¡°


    ***


    The day she woke up was designated her birthday, and her age at the time was estimated to be seven years. She was rather intelligent, a quick learner. Her memory was a rare gift that most scholars would have envied her... yet no one would pay the price of the recurrent, debilitating pain she felt in her body, or frequent migraines so severe that they were able to bring her to the very edge of madness. More than once, she tried to end the pain in the most drastic ways ¨C a sharp blade here, a fall from the window there... Once, on the second anniversary of her waking up, she ran head-first against the stone wall of her room, which led to a week-long state of unconsciousness.


    The only thing that seemed to numb her agony were the pain medications in the form of mildly narcotic drugs, but to dose a child with such things... Iarvahr taught her how to light up a pipe, how to clean it and maintain it, and how to properly mix the herbs and medicine. He hated himself for that at first but in time, after whole months without pain, he saw the greater good it brought.


    ***


    When she was seventeen, she passed the exams of the Citadel¡¯s university medical wing with flying colors, which made her the youngest medic in the history of Citadel. She celebrated her eighteenth birthday elbow-deep in the belly of a wounded child during the siege of Korvul keep and a week later, she defended the same child with her own body from a potentially lethal blow from a Whisper-infested soldier.


    Half a year later, she followed the war-medic contingent accompanying the Cryotan expeditionary force into the barren lands of The Silent Fields, and more than once, she found herself in the position of a pathologist rather than medic, dissecting the strange, thin, sheet-like bodies of Whispers, in the search of their weakness. Her reward was a jagged scar spreading across her right forearm carved by the venomous claws of one particular Whisper that was much more alive than it first appeared. Barely surviving the event, she was released from the war-medic contingent with a shiny medal. Before she left the army encampment, she gave her medal to an unknown, unnamed soldier that lost both his hands in the conflict.


    She spent her twenty third birthday piling up rotting corpses in the squares of Antiga, covered head to toe by pus, vomit and dark, sick blood. The blood rot was a cruel, tormenting disease, and people fell by hundreds. In the company of her close friend she considered a sister, she saw more death in an hour than a seasoned soldier saw in a lifetime. She was trying to keep her best friend alive a year later, her white robes stained scarlet, trying to fix all the damage that miscarriage has caused on her body.


    Again and again, she thought of heading back to the citadel. The world was filled with pain, rot, reek and gore, with ever present decay of human spirit and flesh, cruelty, violence and war, always followed by blood, tears, vomit and in the end, the sweet release of death... She always slapped away the thoughts and did her duty. To heal, to help, to mend the broken and sew up the torn, to burn out the filth and clean up the putridity. In the daylight, her world was devoid of all color but that of blood, and her dreams were filled with screams of those already dead, or cries of those alive, begging for death. She never faltered, not once. Her name was Auria, and ¨C same as all other medics from the halls of Citadel - it was her duty, her purpose, to heal the world. But she could not be far from home forever, and a time came when she could not properly focus on her work anymore. Her nights became filled with recurring nightmares, and pain numbing drugs were slowly becoming less and less effective. A time finally came, when she could not run from herself anymore.


    Her twenty eight birthday was¡­

 Chapter 1 - The pain of our past

    The patient suffered from the blue pox in its late stages. Blisters filled with violet liquid covered his entire body, forming a sort of twisted pattern that would have had to come from the mind of a deranged painter. One by one, Auria cut each blister open and carefully cleaned it, draining all the pus away, and sterilizing the wound with alcohol. The surgical suite was filled with the smell of rotting eggs, yet she paid no attention to it. It was not important.


    She worked on his body for a half an hour without a pause ¨C each and every blister needed to be cleaned, every drop of violet pus needed to be removed. The man on the table kept waking up for a short periods of time, coughing out bloody mucus from his inside. Auria doubted that he would survive the procedure ¨C the disease was left untreated for far too long.


    ?His heart is not beating.¡° said the assisting medical student with a hint of panic in his voice and at once, he started to massage his chest, trying to make heart beat again. After a minute, he moved to breathe into the patient¡¯s mouth but was stopped by Auria slapping him with the back of her hand.


    ?Your mouth touch his and you will infect yourself.¡° She said in a tired, but still very pleasant voice. ?Try to make his heart beat again, do not let your bare skin touch him.¡°


    She grabbed a flask of strong alcohol from a nearby cabinet and poured it over the victim''s closed mouth. Then she wet the clean piece of cloth with the alcohol, scrubbed her own mouth clean, then the patient¡¯s, and with a silent curse, started to breathe into the patient''s mouth. After three breaths, she flushed her mouth with alcohol, rubbed the man''s mouth clean again, and repeated the process.


    They did it for ten minutes, swapping their places when one of them had no energy left for rhythmic chest compressions, but the man on the table refused to breathe. With a loud sigh, she threw the empty alcohol bottle into the corner of the room, where it shattered into a million pieces. She cleaned her hands in the sink, both with water and disinfecting alcohol, and then filled up her pipe with a mixture of herbs. She opened the windows to ventilate the room a little bit ¨C the patient was dead, and the breeze could not bother him anymore ¨C and turned to the clueless student.


    ?He needs to be burned. Call the cremation team, and clean yourself thoroughly. Burn your clothes, along with the corpse. Send another victim.¡° She let out a large cloud of blueish smoke. Sweet scent pierced through the reek of death. ?And another student. Good job.¡° she added.


    ***


    They were trapped in the dark. Walls made of wet wood were covered by white, fluffy fungi. They were dotted with holes and through them, hot air was coming inside...


    Squeaking and rattling of rusty wheels mixed with moaning of twisted, malformed figures laying all around. Bodies marked with tumorous growths, horn growths and weeping wounds were pressed together in the mixture of filth, heat and stink. There was nowhere to move. There was nowhere to run...


    The carriage has stopped. A wooden wall disappeared and bodies pressed against it fell down from the carriage onto the hot, sandy ground. Monsters covered in golden scales started to sort through the bodies and drag them away, being as gentle with them as with a pile of horse shit in the middle of the road. The moaning of suffering figures was getting more intense...


    Her fall to the ground was painful, but not more than what followed. A golden-scaled hand grabbed her, scraping the skin on her upper arm while his other hand hit her across the face. Her once white hair, now darkened with filth, started to change color again ¨C this time to blood red. The world was fading in front of her eyes...


    Dragged through the sand... Sharp stones, cutting her skin open... Dry twigs leaving their thorns in her body... A face in the golden, scaly helmet... A smile with yellow teeth, the reek of rotting gums... Spit dripping from her face, her wounds stinging from the golden man''s bodily fluids... Golden hand hitting her face, again and again...


    Darkness.


    ***


    She woke up screaming. Sweaty and with eyes filled with tears, she still felt all the cuts and bruises from her dream, she still felt like covered in piss, and her stomach was spasming, trying to vomit from the reek around her.


    She did not remember sitting up. A woman with coal-black hair was staring at her, with eyes filled with tears, but with a reassuring smile on her face. With a soft tone and sweet, melodic voice, black haired woman calmed Auria down and helped her fall asleep again.


    Black haired woman was silently crying long after Auria fell asleep. These dreams were returning more often now, and Naira suspected that they were the reason why Auria wanted to return to the Citadel. The horrors Auria saw... she knew that it was just a matter of time until Auria broke down completely.


    She held her hand and silently watched the beautiful, serene face of the sleeping woman, framed by her long, white hair. For the last month, there were barely a few nights when Auria did not wake up screaming.


    Naira held the hand of white haired woman and silently stared into the wall. After a long while, she dried her eyes and moved to the table, where she pulled out a leather-bound book from underneath a myriad of blueprints of various devices. She opened it on the last written page and on the bottom, Naira wrote down the date and estimated time of Auria¡¯s latest episode.


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    ***


    Auria woke up to the rainy morning with a strong headache. She sat on her bed and started vomiting, again and again, until the pain faded just a little bit. Not much came out of her, mostly just stomach mucus and a bit of acid, but the convulsions were severe and painful. At the end, she was visibly shivering.


    Usually, the headaches were not as intense and she could quickly suppress the pain with a dose of smoked pain-killing medication, but not after a night filled with nightmares. They somehow reduced the usefulness of the medications, making them almost obsolete. These recurring nightmares were the reason for her return to the Citadel - in the beginning, they were not frequent and they were not like any other dreams she had. She remembered them all, in detail, and she suspected that the nightmares were her own memories, bubbling up from the depths of her locked up mind. As the time went on however, the nightmares returned more often, always accompanied by searing pain of the waking world.


    ?Did I wake you up, or did you come home late?¡° she asked Naira, sitting in a comfortable chair by the window, shuffling through pages of an old, leather covered book.


    ?Both.¡° she muttered. ?Which nightmare was it this time?¡°


    She sighted, and threw vomit-covered blankets on the ground. She reached for the leather pouch, hanging from the back of a chair. ?The carriage.¡°


    ?Anything new in the dream?¡°


    Auria shook her head and took out a vial and syringe from her pouch. She was getting prepared to inject the painkiller into her bloodstream, but Naira stopped her. ?Please, do not do this.¡°


    ?Why?¡° Auria asked, irritated. ?Today, I am once again going to be covered by pus, blood and fuck knows what else from head to toes.¡° She laughed bitterly. ?My day started with vomit on my lips  and my bed sheets.¡° She raised a syringe filled with milky white substance. ?This... filth, this might be the difference between death and life for dozens of people, Naira. I can not work with a headache like this, you know that.¡°


    ?There are other medics, Auria. Take a break. You are slowly killing yourself. Do you really need it, or is it just an eagerness, a wish for another dose, that I see in your eyes?¡°


    ?Fuck y...¡° Auria let out a long sigh and with a short, violent scream, she threw the syringe against the wall. The needle broke, but the vial miraculously survived. Sudden movements made her body spasm and vomit again. ?Do you like it, watching me in this state?¡°


    Naira replied too quickly for Auria¡¯s taste. ?No, Auria. But it is still better than being high from that toxic filth that you wanted to inject yourself with. Light up the pipe. Fight through the pain. We have returned here for you to find an answer to your nightmares, to your pain. So start looking for them finally, and stop running.¡°


    With those words, Naira left the room. Auria was left staring into the wall, and without really thinking about it, she lit up the herb packed pipe. After a while, the pain in her head changed from a sharp, stabbing sensation into a dull, constant throbbing.


    ***


    Stink of machine oil, burnt gunpowder and volatile chemical compounds filled Nairas lungs with every breath she took. Once again, she was tinkering with her newest toy, her latest creation ¨C a high caliber revolver gun she almost lovingly called </a>Chimera. The weapon was a peak of mechanical engineering of her age, and Naira knew it ¨C not many mechanics from the Citadel could even replicate her work, yet alone invent it on their own.


    The genius was in the details. The weapon on its own was of a simple design, based on that of rather widely used revolver pistols able to host six rounds in the revolving, cylindrical magazine, but Naira needed something more.


    She made Basilisk with one thing in mind ¨C versatility. She ¨C along with her former partner ¨C used to tinker with the idea of gun ammunition that had other purposes than merely killing a target. Blinding ammunition, sonic ammunition, corrosive ammunition, stunning ammunition... Yet for a long time, she was unable to make it work.


    That was, untill she made Chimera.


    She loaded a prototype into the chamber of Chimera, aimed at a figurine on the other side of the room and made her shot. The ammunition broke open inside of the chamber and after a loud and surprised scream, she was left blind.


    This was not my brightest moment... she admitted in her own mind. But if I made a sort of eye protection... And if I made it bigger, perhaps in the form of a thrown explosive...


    While the blindness was slowly fading, all that she could do was to think. To think about Auria, her outbreaks and nightmares... About what she must have endured as a child to block everything behind a dam in her mind... But the dam started to crack, and drop by drop, her memories started to leak through.


    Perhaps her father Iarvahr would be able to shed some light into Aurias mysterious childhood, but Naira doubted it. She remembered the day Auria was brought into the citadel, a small child cradled in long, thin limbs of a Haraag... but Naira was merely a child back then, and more than anything, she remembered the huge, segmented body of Haraag, its six legs, four arms, and huge, chittering mandibles¡­ Its bronze carapace glittering in the sun, Haraag only handed Auria over to Iarvahr, said a few words in strange language and left promptly. Naira therefore doubted that Iarvahr knew more about his daughter''s past than Auria herself did.


    She was her best friend. Her sister. They stood by each other for years, supporting each other through hard times, through pain and suffering, as well as through love and joy. Thanks to Auria, Naira met the man that would later become her husband, the man that would put a child inside her belly... His sudden death caused her misscarriage, and Naira... Oh, how she wished that she died with him. Each day, every day, her thoughts moved closer and closer to death. She had nothing left. Love of her life, perished in front of her eyes, and their unborn child, the last piece of him she had left in the world...


    Auria saved her life. Auria did not let her die. Thanks to Auria, the last five years of Naira''s life were pure misery, an unending cycle of suffering and anguish. Auria asked her if Naira liked to see her suffer... Both of them knew the truth. Both of them were horrified by it. None of them wanted to admit it.


    The blindness was fading slowly, and she needed something to clear her mind. She thought about how she recently felt kicked by a muse and ideas for new inventions and mechanisms often sprang to her mind ¨C usually, she wrote them down into a small, leather covered journal. It helped her to clear her mind to list through the ideas, discard the useless ones, or elaborate on the ideas behind inventions that could be of great benefit ¨C either to her personally, or to the people of the Citadel.


    None save Auria knew about her private workshop and she wasn¡¯t usually bothered by any visitors. Sometimes, it made her feel lonely... but every attempt that Naira had to get closer to somebody, to find a friend, ended with her shutting the other person off. Auria was the only close friend, the only family she had left after the death of her husband... Despite the torment and pain she felt every time she was left alone with her thoughts, despite her blaming Auria for all that, she could never bring herself to truly hate her. Yes, Naira was often cold to her, but she still loved her. And there was nothing that would ever change the love she felt towards a girl she grew up with, towards a girl she traveled half the known world with.


    Her mind wandered. Unable to focus on anything in particular, she blindly patted down the workbench until she found a small, sharp knife with a thin blade. After a few seconds worth of consideration, she made a small cut through the back of her forearm, away from all the major blood vessels. Shw did not want to cause any permanent or serious injury to herself, she just needed something to concentrate on ¨C a little bit of pain, to keep her mind focused away from all the dark thoughts.


    The physical pain helped, as it always did, and after the blindness faded completely, she promptly returned to her tinkering.

 Chapter 2 – When the depths screamed of death

    It was a behemoth. An island made of stone with strange, curved pillars dotted with holes that were sticking from underneath the water all around its circumference. The body of the colossus was made of a mountain-like rock formation, perforated through and through with a million holes and tunnels like the middle of an ant colony. Everything was wet and covered with algae and slime, with various sea life breathlessly lying above the water surface.


    It moved into the firing range of the Luthra cruiser.


    Suranihr was struck by a sound wave so strong that it almost cast him off of his feet. The whole ship was shaking, armor plates riveted together were creaking and breaking. Then, multiple thunderous booms filled the air, a mighty cannonade firing at the floating colossus of an island.


    When struck, the rocks were breaking apart, twisted pillars were shattering and debris from them was flying tens of meters away, creating fountains of sea water as high as the chimneys of Luthra cruiser. The island was not slowing down however, it was racing to Luthra as if to ram her with deadly force. The sound waves were stronger and stronger, shaking the whole body of the ship so much that Suranihr had problems staying on his feet. ?Keep firing!¡° he shouted, his voice disappearing in the deep roaring emanating from the island. ?Keep fucking firing!¡°


    Other ships from the Citadel fleet finally caught up with Luthra, and immediately started their own cannon barrages. Piece by piece, shot by shot, the floating island was breaking apart, until it sank to the depths of the ocean, shattered.


    ?What the fuck was that, captain?¡° The balding medic was shivering, standing only thanks to the railing he was holding tightly.


    ?I have no idea, commander Iarvahr.¡° Suranihr muttered. He turned to his first mate. ?Report on the state of Luthra. Check... damn it, check everything. Every rivet, every joint, every screw. Their sound attacks might have seriously damaged our ship.¡°


    ?Aye, captain.¡° First mate ran off and Suranihr turned to face one of the Citadel¡¯s military commanders.


    ?I have never seen anything like this.¡° Suranihr spat into the sea. Some debris was still floating, and he thought that he could see deformed bodies lying motionless on it. ?What are...¡°


    A violent impact shaked the cruiser and both Suranihr and Iarvahr fell to their knees. Mighty warship Luthra was sloping to the side, thrown away off its course, moving perpendicular to its original trajectory.


    ?Starboard!¡° someone screamed, and Suranihr immediately tried to stand up and look from the side of the ship.


    Another island was right there, next to their ship. It was still rising from the water, and Luthra was located right above the desired path of the island. It moved the ship without too much effort, and Suranihr had hoped that the hull of his ship would not be torn open. Some ships however were not as lucky as Luthra ¨C a corvette Galaga ended her service in a huge ball of flame.


    Every ship that could started to fire on the newly formed island, but they were slow. From ten, hundred, thousand, million holes, deep sound emanated from the island. It was as terrifying as it was lethal.


    Suranihr coughed out blood, supporting himself against the side railing. Iarvahr tried to help him and he turned the captain to face him. Suranihr¡¯s face was covered in blood ¨C his eyes, mouth, nose and ears were all bleeding, and small veins underneath Suranihr¡¯s skin were all burst open. Iarvahr was sure that the sound attacks were causing all that damage and, acting purely on instinct, he threw the captain across the railing into the water.


    He himself felt good, but he could not really see the state of his own hands or body. Encased from head to toe in light armor made out of Haraag sandsteel, he was just hoping that he would survive as long as possible so that he could help every...


    Iarvahr found himself lying on the deck. He did not remember when or how he ended there. He stood up, and faced the monsters crawling and jumping from the strange island on the deck of Luthra.


    The island must have collided with us... he thought to himself.


    Everything was chaotic. The monsters, far from humanoid in their form and looking remarkably similar to the island ¨C full of holes and with skin as if made of rock ¨C were not merciful. Every sailor that had the misfortune of lying in front of them was quickly dismembered, their bodies being devoured by their monstrous mouth filled with hundreds of sharp, needle thin teeth, and their five limbs, scaly and ended with long claws made a quick process of butchering and portioning of dead bodies.


    The constant pressure of sound attacks coming from the island were intense, but Iarvahr felt no more than a slight tingling on his skin. He could not help anybody until all the monsters were gone from the deck and so, with an axe in one hand, he marched to greet the monsters with blade and fury.


    ***


    Watching from the bridge of his artillery ship Scythe, the mind of Morro Lyn was filled with numbers and calculations. His mighty ship was sailing away from the main fleet, usually guarded by three smaller corvettes, but they were of no importance.


    What was important was the mayhem that was in the middle of the fleet. Massive island appeared out of nowhere, hitting and pushing multiple ships from their original trajectory, breaking their hulls, filling the air with smoke and fire.


    And that sound, that damned sound... What the hell was that?


    ?In range?¡° he asked in his dry, cold voice. First mate next to him nodded. ?Yes, Captain Lyn. We can open fire. However, if we were to hit Luthra or...¡°


    ?It would go down in the blaze of glory. That is why we will not hit Luthra. Or Gala...¡° In that moment, Galaga exploded in a ball of flame. ?Aim at the side of the island where that ship just exploded. No more lives to worry about on that side anymore. Fire all three cannons at once, the shockwave from them will steer us off course. Signal all sailors to brace for impact, and steer the guarding corvettes away from us.¡°


    First mate Layana signaled his commands right as he was speaking them, and everybody obeyed at once. Not ten seconds later, three massive cannons fired, and the ship Scythe was thrown to the side and off of its course by a strong shockwave.


    ?Good job, Layana.¡° Morro Lyn nodded thoughtfully.


    ***


    With an axe in his hand and a furious cry coming from his mouth, Iarvahr was smitten off his feet by three massive explosions that shattered the floating island. His world went black.


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    ***


    It felt like the sea was boiling. His skin, eyes, mouth, ears, everything was burning, every little wound, every little rupture on his body was painfully reminded that the sea water was indeed salty.


    But he was alive. He swam to the surface, only to be pushed back under the water by a massive explosion. He knew exactly what it was ¨C the Reaper, the butcher-captain, heartless, cold and brilliant, Morro Lyn has unleashed the full might of his warship against the floating island. Nothing else could make such an explosion. The only thing that Surnaihr could do was to try and swim on the surface again, and hope that no falling debris would find its way directly on top of his head. Finally, he broke the surface and looked around. Even though he knew that it was probably a bad idea, he swam to the floating island and after a few moments, he was lying on the rocky island, breathing heavily.


    Strange humming and murmur made him open his eyes. A creature like he had never seen before was crawling out of one of many holes in the island, its movements shaky and erratic. The creature used its five limbs, each coming out of a segment of its body, to crawl through the tunnel, but it was clear that it was struggling to move outside of it. Either it is not used to move above the water, or... Is it blind? Or somehow... damaged?


    He had his gun holstered on his belt, and even though the holster was made to withstand the damp sea air or rain, Suranihr doubted that it would fire after being submerged into the sea. Still, he was not unarmed.


    A short, naval axe and a pointy, three-bladed dagger. With both in hands, he moved slowly and silently towards the creature... at least he thought that he was silent. After a few steps, the creature quickly turned towards him.


    The scores of holes on the creature''s segmented body started to rapidly close and open, and a soft, buzzing noise filled the air around Suranihr. He had noticed that the creature indeed had no eyes, but perhaps this was how it perceives its surroundings - with sound. Yet it seemed... disoriented.


    He quickly closed the gap between himself and the creature and he rammed the axe into its head ¨C or at least what he thought was its head, due to the mouth being located there. How the fuck does it breathe? I can''t see any gills...


    The creature emitted a violent sound that came from every hole in its body, and Suranihr¡¯s hands and legs started to shake. His vision became blurry and reddened and his mouth tasted like blood... This is how it hunts. This is how it kills.


    A sudden sharp pain in his leg returned him back to reality. The creature''s claws pierced right through his leather thigh armor, and even though only one of its limbs could reach him thanks to his positioning, it was more than enough.


    Before he staggered back, he rammed his axe into the creature''s body again, and then again. Its rock-like carapace was hard but brittle and the naval axe in his hands was well suited for the task of crushing the creature''s body like a bug underneath the heel.


    ?Suranihr, you dumb idiot. You are not a zoologist to wonder about strange creatures.¡° He cursed himself loudly while checking the wound on his thigh. Thankfully it was not deep and he was not in imminent danger of dying. He knew that he was probably too cruel to himself ¨C to study the adversary and to learn as much as possible was only natural. But there was a time, and a place¡­


    Yet the creature intrigued him. He has never seen anything like it - it did not resemble a bug or a crustacean, its limbs were almost humanoid-like, with seven long, clawed fingers with multiple joints, almost like fingers¡­ He could not discern which limbs of the creature should serve as arms and which as legs, it had no discernable tail or fins¡­ Suranihr imagined the creature, crawling through the tunnels of a floating island while it was underwater, and the only thing he could think of was a giant, five-legged, clawed parody of a spider with too big teeth and too rock-like skin for his liking.


    He had noticed something ¨C everything was silent. No buzzing, humming, no roaring of cannonades, no vibrations that shaked his whole body... He looked around, and was pleasantly surprised that his ship, Luthra, withstood the attacks of floating island with minimal visible damage, at least on the surface level. He waved his axe, trying to make it glint in the sun to signal somebody that he was alive and soon enough, sailors from a small corvette Amana signaled him back. Nobody is signaling me from Luthra. Something is horribly wrong.


    ***


    Suranihr along with five sailors from Amana climbed aboard Luthra. The deck was littered with bodies of half eaten sailors, and a few disoriented creatures staggering around, colliding with each other. Amidst the creatures, a figure clad in bronze colored armor was trying to stand up, failing miserably in each attempt. Suranihr ran to commander Yhrsa, slightly limping on his freshly treated leg. He bashed the carapace of two creatures on his way to commander, with the rest of the sailors taking care of other creatures, and immediately knelt beside the wounded medical officer.


    ?Talk to me, Iarvahr. How are you wounded?¡°


    ?I am not.¡° Iarvahr muttered through clenched teeth. ?I can''t seem to find a balance. My inner ear is...¡° His words were accompanied by a lot of salivating and spitting.


    ?Rest, old friend. Lie down. No, not in the... Great job, you landed face down in your own vomit.¡° Suranihr muttered more to himself than to Iarvahr. He undid the buckles of his masked helmet, his cuirass and took down his gauntlets. Iarvahr was really unharmed. Compared to his own, blood ridden skin with hundreds of small bruises and cuts, and compared to dead sailors, transformed into a pile of shredded meat, Iarvahr was in great shape.


    ?The sound... They were killed by sound, Suranihr. I have never seen anything like it. Your sailors... they crumbled to the ground, their bodies lifeless...¡°


    ?How did you survive?¡° Suranihr asked him with real interest.


    ?Sandsteel... absorbed the vibrations somehow. The armor was shaking, I was not.¡°


    Suranihr nodded. He knew practically nothing of the material, or even how Iarvahr obtained one of the priceless pieces of Haraag craftsmanship. Common folk thought Haraag products magical, and even though Suranihr did not believe in such nonsense, after witnessing how the armor protected Iarvahr, he had to admit that Haraag craftsmanship was special.


    ***


    ?How do you feel?¡°


    ?Good, thank you for asking.¡° Iarvahr was looking at a shattered floating island, deep in thought, until Suranihr joined him on the deck of Luthra. The duty of cleaning up dead bodies and checking the hull integrity of the ship was not pleasant, but now that it was over, both of them were pleasantly surprised how well Luthra has fared.


    ?Thank you for saving my life.¡° Suranihr patted Iarvahr on his back. He barked out a laugh. ?Which time?¡°


    ?The last time.¡° Suranihr laughed too.


    ?You know, I always wanted to throw you overboard.¡° Iarvahr replied with a joyful grin that faded from his face as quickly as it appeared. ?These sailors... I hope that their deaths were painless.¡°


    ?I knew each of them by name. They will be remembered.¡°


    ?I hoped that my return to duty would be calmer than this.¡° Iarvahr nodded in the direction of the floating island. They both felt silent for a few minutes.


    ?I think that...¡°


    ?That we should explore the tunnels. The island. What it is, what it is made of, how the hell did it ram into my ship from below.¡° Suranihr finished his thought and Iarvahr nodded.


    ?But I also think...¡°


    ?That you should be the one exploring it, alone, due to your armor. Yes, I know. But I have also been on the receiving end of direct sound attack from one of these creatures, and I live.¡°


    ?I know that whatever I say will have no effect on your decision, and that whatever I say, you will go into these tunnels with me. And with us, other insane sailors...¡°


    Suranihr smiled. ?You are the commander, and we have to obey your commands. But, I am the captain, and you are on my ship. And already, I can think of a few sailors from other ships that will join us... But I also know that you will tell me why it is a bad idea.¡°


    Iarvahr turned to him, with seriousness written to his eyes. ?You have survived a direct attack from one of them... on the ground. Under the clear sky, away from the tunnels. The sound can travel through these tunnels in a much different way than out of them... A single shriek ¨C or whatever it is that they do ¨C could turn everybody inside into a dead pile of meat.¡±


    ?I have already spoken with other ship captains. The voting was unanimous, two from every crew of the ship will venture inside. Regardless of danger.¡°


    ?Let us just hope that I am wrong about us all dying in there.¡°

 Chapter 3 – The dangers of forgotten

    He followed the guard through dark corridors. It was not that he did not know the way ¨C Lakar spent most of his time in the Archaeologists repository, analyzing old documents, foreign artifacts, unearthed ancient mechanisms... But today, he had the opportunity to access the rooms with unusual, classified artifacts. More precisely, the artifacts that were deemed too dangerous for inexperienced historians.


    Lakar was an odd fellow. He dedicated his entire life to studying and understanding history, but shortly after the beginning of his studies, he realized that focusing his studies on only one subject was not enough. How could he understand old tools and simple mechanisms without studying mechanics and engineering under the supervision of Grand mechanic Kimeron Tarzai? How could he grasp the beauty of old wall paintings or mosaics, decorative vases, bowls or boxes without the knowledge behind the fossilization,  the art of chemical preservation, or even the mysteries of dye making processes?


    It was hard, but possible. The level of education offered by Citadel university was highest in the known world, and the lands of the Citadel were famous for their incredibly advanced technologies and industry, moreso that the concept of industry was still unknown in some parts of the world. Hell, steam powered engines were but a dream outside of Citadel walls!


    Lakar laughed at his own thoughts. The guard in front of him turned his head slightly. ?Something funny, historian?¡°


    ?I just thought of an old joke, sol... eh, excuse me, I have no idea what is the proper title to call you.¡°


    ?You can call me Harian.¡° Soldier muttered.


    ?Is that a formal title? What is your name, then?¡°


    ?My name is Harian.¡°


    ?My apologies, soldier Harian. Do you want to hear the joke?¡°


    Harian sighed loudly. He was not sure whether to account the politeness of this historian to his arrogance, or if it was just the way he was. ?Sure. Go ahead.¡° he muttered with a hint of irritation in his voice.


    ?Well then... Why do Glaerians bring a sword into a gunfight?¡°


    ?Are gunfights a joke to you? Have you ever been in a fight?¡° There was a sharp edge in the soldier''s voice, and Lakar was not so eager to finish his joke anymore.


    ?No no no... It is.. uh, j-just... a joke...¡° he started to stutter when the soldier stopped walking and turned to face him.


    ?Finish it. Oh, I am so interested in what you have to say about gunfights. Tell me, historian, why do Glaerians bring a sword into a gunfight?¡° There was not even a hint of smile on the soldier''s face, not even a glimmer of mirth. Lakar swallowed loudly.


    ?Bec... because... Because that is the best they have.¡°


    Silence filled the corridor from floor to ceiling. After a few tense seconds, Harian burst out laughing.


    ?Fuck me, historian. It was not a bad joke. Yes, I agree, those religious fanatics really do not have anything better than swords.¡° He laughed for a solid minute, and Lakar realized that he was either really lucky, or the soldier was just easily amused. The joke was really bad and not that funny ¨C the primitivity of religious Glaeria was rather sad and terrifying than amusing.


    ?I fought them, you know. Glaerians...¡° Harian spoke when they moved again.


    ?Is it really true that they make their armor out of gold? It seems to me rather silly and... well, dumb.¡°


    ?They make parts of it out of polished brass. You know what brass is?¡°


    ?Yes, an alloy of copper and zinc... rather heavy and soft to be used for armor.¡°


    Harian nodded and chuckled. ?It is a symbol of their standing hierarchy. Well... Gold, or anything resembling gold. Celeanae is a golden city, with its golden throne and golden army to protect it, but really, not much of it is really gold. Glaeria is sitting atop large copper deposits, but not gold mines. The only person in their backwards empire with real gold in his possession is that fat pig sitting on the throne, glad in shiny robes with heavy chains around his neck and obscenely large rings on his finger... Even his piss is surely gold, and he probably shits gold too.¡° He spat on the ground after he finished his monologue. Lakar was becoming more and more interested in the soldier.


    ?You seem to... resent them. Hate them even.¡°


    ?I do. While they are primitive, and while they use primitive weapons when compared to us, they have the numbers. And while their masses chant holy songs for the glorification of their benevolent, ever-good god, their armies like to burn, maim, kill, pillage, torture, rape and fucking crucify everybody that is not of their own.¡°


    ?You mean like... from other kingdoms, empires...¡° Lakar started to paint a mental picture of Glaeria, and he did not like it one bit. A land of war-mongering, xenophobic, racist and religious zealots... Still, his painting was not entirely accurate.


    ?No. One of their own as one belonging to their idiotic sects. I fought them as a guest in their lands, in their own village, in their own inn... Just because the innkeeper was not adhering to every single rule from their holy book...¡° Lakar was surprised that Harian was so calm, talking about this, but he was too fascinated to be bothered by it. He just wanted to know more. He always wanted to know more.


    ?We stayed for a night in a small town, rather close to our own borders. No more than two ¨C three days ride on a carriage. There was a contingent of the town guards in the inn with us, and one of them asked the innkeeper how he was faring. The innkeeper said that everything was well, but he complained about the taxes... You know, as every citizen of the Lands of the Citadel does, every day. Even I fucking hate taxes.¡° Harian let out a loud sigh again. ?The guardsman took it as a complaint against their almighty, ever-good, saint ruler, pigfucker the third himself, may his fat rot today. And, complaining about those chosen by their god... goes against the principles and against the holy book. Guardsman bashed the teeth out of the innkeeper''s mouth, and made his family watch while he did it.¡°


    ?Why didn¡¯t you stop them?¡°


    ?We came to the common room the moment the innkeeper''s unconscious head hit the ground. After the deed was done.¡°


    They stood in front of the huge door for a good while, yet none of them paid attention to it. A soldier, telling one of his tales to somebody who actually wanted to listen to him, and a historian, who studied his entire life, yet every day he found out that he knew practically nothing...


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    ?Did you kill them?¡° Lakar asked. Harian shook his head. ?No, but I am sure that they got killed by their own comrades. We disarmed them, beat them unconscious, beat their teeth out ¨C what they did was done to them ¨C and then we carved a series of... unpleasant words and phrases into their skins.¡°


    ?Like what for example?¡° Lakar was sincerely curious. Funny little fellow... thought Harian.


    ?I carved a word godfucker onto the forehead of the guardsman that bashed the innkeeper''s teeth out. Imagine what his own did to him when they found him... And that was not even the worst thing that we have carved that day.¡°


    ?What else did you carve?¡°


    ?We are here, historian. I was supposed to take you here, and let you in. Do your work, I will guard the door so that no one disturbs you. We can talk... some other time.¡°


    Lakar nodded regretfully, but he went through the door that Harian held open for him. Before the soldier closed it again, Lakar asked him one more question. ?Is that why you are posted to a simple guard duty? For such... violent acts?¡°


    Harian nodded slightly. ?In a way. My commanding officer applauded what I did, but at the same time, he whipped me for not thinking it over. The inn was burned down the next day, the innkeepers family either dead, or enslaved. I was stripped of my rank, my honor, and my... this is my punishment.¡°


    The seriousness of it all hit Lakar like a hammer. He did not even think of the consequences such an act could have... With his head full of thoughts, he smiled at the soldier and walked deeper into the room.


    ***


    Lakar did not even know where to begin. He was supposed to examine and catalog items in the room, and he looked forward to it, but he did not expect there to be so many of them. Metallic objects shaped like the ribs of a long extinct landcrawler animal he had ever seen on old paintings, carved wooden statues, vases and chests that he had no idea how survived buried under ground without a single scratch on them, tubes, hoses and pipes made from glass or glass-looking material that were without a single scratch... He lived for this. Lakar looked around for a piece of paper, or a note of some kind that usually accompanied new, uncatalogued artifacts, and he found one on the table nearby. The room was dark and he had only one hand-held lantern, and so he had to concentrate to decipher the hand written words.


    He started to read loudly. Hearing his own voice sometimes helped him think. ?Obtained from... Huh, digsite One-dot-one-dot-zero. Another tunnel beneath the city sewers must have been cleared of rubble. Looks like they found it in a sealed room. Why did they move it to the surface... Oh, a light started to flash in the room after they moved the item 1-A. Wait, it is already cataloged?¡° Lakar looked around but could not find any labels or any signs near the artifacts. It got him thinking. ?1-A. If they used the old system, 1-A represents the first square of the room layout... that is, left wall, across the room...¡° he moved across the room to the farthest corner. Even with his lantern, he could not properly see what exactly was lait atop the table.


    ?Harian?¡° he shouted loudly. He needed another source of light, and free hands ¨C Harian could help with both. but he did not respond to his first shout, nor his second.


    He wanted to touch it, to feel the material under his fingers. His arm was half stretched towards it when...


    ***


    The door opened and historian¡¯s hed peeked through. ?Can you please come and help me? I shouted, but you probably did not hear me.¡°


    Harian nodded. The door was thick, he did not hear even the slightest sound from the other side. ?What do you need, historian?¡°


    ?Lakar, please. No need for titles.¡°


    Harian followed him through the room to the corner farthest from the door. ?I need more light.¡°


    ?I understand, this room is pitch black. Why?¡°


    Lakar chuckled. ?Some artifacts are sensitive to strong light, and it makes them degrade quickly. Come now. This looks metallic, it should not be damaged by the light of two lanterns. Look at it. What does it look like to you?¡°


    Harian held two lanterns in his stretched out arms. He had no idea what he was looking at, but it resembled... ?An arm.¡°


    ?I thought so too, but... Look, on the one end, there are five endings on a circular base. Perhaps the fingers coming out of the palm. Then a sort of... joint that allows it to move around?¡° Lakar touched the artifact with gloved hands. He was right ¨C the metallic hand was turning around the joint. ?Interesting. If it really was an arm, this would be an elbow joint... and... another elbow joint? Wait... one, two... four elbow joints.¡°


    ?A long, metallic arm, with four elbows. Okay.¡° That thing, that metallic arm, made Harian nervous and uncertain. He felt...


    ?And this would be the shoulder, with a multitude of... small wires, also made of metal, sticking out of it... slightly bluish color. Okay. So we have here an almost two meters long metallic arm with multiple joints and a sort of... Right. Got it.¡° Lakar wrote down everything he said, with many additional notes that stemmed from his thoughts. ?Now, to estimate its purpose...¡°


    ?To kill.¡° said Harian with a raspy, dry voice. He sounded like an old man on the verge of death. Lakar turned to him, surprised. ?Why do you think so?¡°


    ?We should leave. Right now.¡° Soldier spoke quickly, never taking his eyes off the foreign object. ?I feel like it is watching me.¡°


    Lakar tried to sound calm. ?I know what you mean. Don¡¯t worry, friend. I often have the same feeling..¡°


    Harian tried to stay calm, but his soldier¡¯s instincts were screaming at him. Something was definitely wrong with that thing.


    ?There is a weird hole... right in the middle of where those wires come out of the arm... let me see. Harian, more light please.¡° The hole was hexagonal, deep almost two inches. ?Something is missing from there. maybe we''ll find it somewhere in the room. Give me a lantern, and help me search for it.¡°


    ?I really don¡¯t want to do this, historian.¡°


    Lakar paid no attention to his complaints, and went looking for a hexagonal item to insert into the arm. With muttered curses, Harian did the same.


    Harian did not want to touch anything in the room. Everything creeped him out, and ¨C honestly, he was not paid for digging through potentially lethal old artifacts. Something however grabbed his attention.


    ?Historian... Lakar, come here.¡°


    Lakar came running. ?Did you find something?¡°


    ?Look. There.¡°


    Small hexagonal prism was lying half-buried beneath various metallic rubble, emitting a soft blue light.  Lakar smiled, delighted. ?Yes. Quick, get me pliers. They should be on the table near the entrance door.¡°


    ?Why don¡¯t you just grab it?¡° Harian grumbled while looking for pliers. ?I¡¯m not a damn servant to fetch your shit.¡°


    ?I know, soldier. I just want to examine it before I touch it. Also, I never touch strange, shining objects with bare hands, and I really need pliers.¡° Lakar apparently heard him, but he did not sound offended.


    They took the item into the pliers, and Lakar started to move towards the metallic arm. ?Now, I am going to insert it inside. There could be a sort of... reaction. Something might happen. Usually, when something happens, it is not much, but it might reveal its purpose to us. It does not matter if you agree or not, Harian. This is my work. You can watch me, if you want.¡°


    Moving slowly, Lakar began to push the shining, hexagonal object into the hole. He looked as if he was straining, as if the metallic arm was resisting him somehow, but the prism fit perfectly. Both men moved two steps backwards, and... Nothing happened.


    ?Well, that was a letdown.¡° Lakar murmured. He poked the metallic arm with pliers. ?What are you? Wait..¡°  The wires sticking out of the arm started to glow faintly, as through a layer of dirt. Against his own rule about not touching shining objects, Lakar used his gloved fingers to wipe the wires clean. The light coming from the wires was blinking rapidly, mesmerizing his gaze...


    Harian tried to pull him away from the arm, but for such a thin man, Lakar resisted his attempts with ferocious strength. ?What are you doing, Harian? Let me do my work!¡°


    Lakar broke out from Harian¡¯s grip and sudden loss of resistance made him stagger. He fell back first on the table with the metallic arm...


    The room filled with a painful scream. Lakar struggled, thrashed around, screamed and begged, and then fell silent. Harian did not wait, he grabbed the historian and dragged him out into the corridor.

 Chapter 4 – What doesn’t kill you

    ¡°We have a new guest among us. What do we call you, miss?¡±


    ¡°Do I have to give you my name? I thought that this was anonymous. With the masks, and everything¡­¡± If one could see through the plain black cloth she used to cover her face,one would notice boredom adorning Auria¡¯s face. Why did I let her talk me into this¡­


    ¡°No, not your name. Just tell us how we should address you.¡± The speaker was a man, and by the sound of his voice, a young man. Perhaps younger than she was.


    ¡°Very well. Call me¡­ Auria.¡± She noticed a slight shiver from a masked woman sitting right across her. There you are, Naira.


    ¡°Thank you, Auria. Now, since this is your first time, you don¡¯t have to talk at all. You can just listen¡­¡±


    ¡°I came here seeking help. Not listen. I want to be done with this, and leave.¡±


    ¡°Well then¡­¡± The speaker continued. ¡°What troubles you, Auria?¡±


    ¡°Nightmares. Memories. My past.¡± A chuckle sounded around the room. ¡°Did I say something funny?¡± She was getting more irritated by the minute. This was really a dumb idea.


    ¡°Nothing funny, Auria. It''s just what people come here with. A trauma from their past, nightmares about a painful event from their past¡­ Do you wish to elaborate?¡±


    ¡°I really don¡¯t.¡±


    ¡°So why did you come?¡±


    She stood up and wanted to say something cheeky, but a familiar voice stopped her. ¡°Sit. Down. Now.¡±


    ¡°Now now, sister Uransahr. We do not hold anybody here against their own will.¡±


    Uransahr? Her surname. I was right that it is Naira. She sat down, fuming, and lit up her pipe to calm down. Nobody protested. ¡°What nightmares do you have?¡±


    She blew a large cloud of smoke from her mouth. ¡°You want to hear them?¡± She was silent for a few puffs from a pipe, but then, with the pipe in her shaking hand and a restless leg, she started talking. Quickly, nervously. ¡°They repeat. Again, and again, and again. Five different dreams, without a change. I dream of nothing else. I am in a carriage, being carried somewhere with other poor souls, deformed, reeking creatures, we are carried somewhere only to be beaten up and pissed upon. I am in a dungeon, being served what is clearly human flesh, but I still eat it like a good dog because hunger drives me senseless. Worms crawl over the flesh, worms crawl over me, tickle me all over my body.  I am blindfolded, somewhere damp and cold, and one by one, sharp¡­ nails, or whatever the fuck it is, are being driven into my back. I scream, I cough blood from my torn throat, I bite my lips bloody. I am being cuddled by a monster, a deformed woman with skin sown with blisters, an eye replaced by a hole, teeth¡­ some are missing, some are pointy, almost canine¡­ But I feel love, and safety¡­ I am happy, I am¡­ home. In the last one, I am in bed, with a reeking, fat man that caresses my hair with a filthy hand, licking my fingers, squeezing my body...¡± She was visibly shivering, with rage and past trauma.. She could not stand the mask anymore, so she tore it down. ¡°Now these¡­ I am sure that these are not just dreams. These are my memories. Things I have endured when¡­ Before I came here. Before I was brought here.¡±


    Stunned silence filled the room. War stories, death of a relative, broken hearts, these were the memories and dreams they were used to. But this¡­


    One by one, people in the room took down their masks, yet she paid their faces no attention. ¡°You wanted me to speak. I spoke. What now? How do I forget? How do I stop having Nightmares?¡±


    ¡°When did the nightmares start?¡± Speaker asked her. She turned to him, and his face felt somehow¡­ familiar.


    ¡°Four years ago¡­ After¡­¡± She glanced quickly at Naira. ¡°Something happened. But it is not my tale to tell. I guess that she has already spoken about it.¡±


    ¡°Miss Uransahr never spoke of what happened to her. She just sits here, and listens. But back to you, miss Auria. What do you want?¡±


    She barked a laugh. ¡°What do I want? For the nightmares to stop. To have a full life again, albeit filled with painkillers. Just as it was before.¡±


    Speaker thanked her for her contribution, and invited other people to talk. Auria paid them no attention at start, but after a few short minutes, she treated each speaker with polite interest. There was a soldier, whose family died in a fire, and he blamed himself for it, even though he was far away from the Citadel when it happened. A chemist that has poisoned her colleagues after an experiment went wrong. An old artist, a painter who tried to capture the beauty of his wife in a painting before she died, yet he did not finish the painting quickly enough and after she died, he could not remember her face clearly¡­


    Is this the ultimate fate of everybody? A life full of misery?


    She got lost in her thoughts. All those people here, including Naira¡­ They have lost something, and it could never be returned back. But she¡­ she did not lose the opportunity to deal with her own problems. She just ran away from them, farther and farther away, instead of facing them. She chuckled softly and silently and after the session had ended, she thanked everyone for sharing.


    Young speaker that led the discussion came to her after everybody but her and Naira left. ¡°You might not remember me, medic, but you might remember my child. You have saved him in¡­¡±


    ¡°Cryota. I see the resemblance now. How does he fare? Were there¡­¡±


    Speaker interrupted her, smiling. ¡°He is fine, thank you. Happy and well. He studies as a medic, actually, probably thanks to you. Now, I don¡¯t want to waste your time, so listen. You do a lot of good. Perhaps more than you should. You save lives, you heal others¡­ But you yourself wither. And nobody is going to take your mantle after you are unable to perform your duty. Medic¡­ Auria, I will give you some advice. Heal yourself.  Face yourself. Find your past. And then, only then, return back to your duties.¡±


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    It did not feel like the words came from his mouth, his mind. She knew that those words were not his, but Naira¡¯s. But Auria understood. If Naira said the same words to her, Auria would probably think about them¡­ but do nothing. She actually told me those words. Often. And she was right.


    ***


    ¡°Why don¡¯t you talk in there?¡±Auria asked Naira. ¡°It actually helped me to get it out of my system to a bunch of unknown people.¡±


    ¡°I know them all. They are not strangers to me, and I am not a stranger to them. They know, and so they don¡¯t ask¡­ anymore.¡±


    They walked silently through the streets paved by basalt cubes. Auria looked around her, admiring the architecture of the Citadel for a thousandth time. Houses, shops, inns and taverns, all built with red bricks, with orange tiled roofs, each of them built with care, each of them a master¡¯s work¡­ A small stream ran through the middle of the wide street, small enough that one could jump across it easily, yet there were plenty of small bridges across it. And in the distance, on a small hill, the building of the university, surrounded by a large number of factories, laboratories and workshops, with smoke and steam coming out of tall chimneys¡­ The Citadel was beautiful. But its beauty did not come only from what was lovely for the eye.


    ¡°Do you know what I love about this place?¡±


    ¡°Tell me.¡± said Naira with a curious voice.


    ¡°The smell. Or rather the absence of it. You walk through a street, and you smell what, the pies and fresh bread from the bakery, or wine, or smoked meat¡­ do you remember how Antiga stank?¡±


    ¡°Thousands of dead bodies have a tendency to smell, yes.¡±


    ¡°Oh, I forgot that you came after it all went to hell. Well, the city stank incredibly even before that. Like shit and piss and sweat and horses¡­ God, how I hate the smell of horses.¡±


    Naira smiled warmly. ¡°I have read the works of Jariah the Wise once. You have probably never heard of the name, but he was a philosopher. Do you know what he considered a true mark of civilization?¡±


    Auria thought a bit. ¡°Not leaving anyone behind? You know, forgetting the whole survival of the fittest and actually taking care of your wounded and ill?¡±


    Naira shook her head. ¡°No. The removal of your own filth, even if it¡¯s not on your property. That means, cleaning after yourself. That means¡­¡± Naira pointed to the nearest sewer hatch. ¡°Plumbing. Sewer systems. And showers and baths¡­¡±


    Auria laughed. ¡°So we, in the Lands of the Citadel, are the only civilized people in the world.¡±


    Naira simply grinned and nodded.


    ***


    ¡°What will you do?¡± They stood in front of the hospital close to the university, where Auria practiced her arts. ¡°Will you go and look for your past?¡±


    Auria was unsure what to say. ¡°I am considering it¡­ Will you join me¡­ If I decide to go, to leave this¡­¡± she waved her arm around, across the hospital, the university, the bulky man carrying a brown clothed body with a long metallic device sticking from him¡­


    ***


    Harian was tired. He ran to the closest healing ward, closest hospital he could think of, and had the luck of meeting a medic right in front of the building. With her help, and the help of a dark haired woman, they carried Lakar into the free surgical suite in the hospital. Both him and the dark haired woman were instructed to clean their hands with water, then alcohol, and then water again, put on gloves made from soft but firm fabric, and wait for instructions. White haired woman - the medic - started to cut Lakar¡¯s clothes open. ¡°He is not bleeding.¡± Medic muttered. ¡°What is it, how did this happen?¡±


    ¡°Some artifact he was examining. He has inserted a weird, blue thing into it, nothing was happening, but he¡­ Fell on the device, and it impaled him.¡±


    ¡°It did not impale him. There is no blood. There is no wound, actually, it¡¯s more like it¡­ grew into him. What is it, Naira, have you ever seen a device like this?¡±


    She shook her head.¡±This was not made in the Citadel. I guarantee that.¡±


    ¡°How do I disconnect it from him?¡±


    Lakar woke up and screamed. The metallic arm moved and hit Auria with a force that made her stagger back and hit the wall. ¡°Get it off me!¡± Lakar screamed.


    Harian jumped to him and tried to pin the arm to the table with the help from Naira. Two of them could barely hold the arm down. ¡°Get it off, get it off!¡± Lakar screamed repeatedly.


    A circular hand with five blade-shaped fingers on the end of the arm started to glow. Naira noticed it, let go of the arm and dragged Harian with her to the ground. ¡°Cover yourself, Auria!¡±


    The hand on the end of the metallic arm was glowing as a small sun and - same as sun - it emitted a strong, searing heat. Where Lakar looked, the arm followed and under his gaze, the surgical suit burned down. ¡°What is happening? Harian! Help me!¡± His voice was getting dry and raspy.


    ¡°Calm down, historian! We are trying, but the arm¡­¡±


    Auria crawled on the ground, staying out of Lakar¡¯s sight. From below him, she reached with a syringe in her hand, and quickly stabbed and injected Lakar with a sedative. The arm twitched and hit her forearm with a loud crack of broken bone. Auria cried out and moved away from the flailing arm¡­


    Lakar fell asleep and with him, the arm stopped moving.


    All three of them stood up. Auria was clenching her teeth from pain, but moved to a historian to check his vital signs. ¡°He¡¯s okay.¡±


    ¡°Are you okay, medic?¡± Harian asked her. She nodded quickly, and looked around the room.


    Black scorch marks trailed across the room. Everywhere that Lakar looked the gaze of a glowing arm followed and left a black, burnt mark.


    ¡°The arm was protecting him.¡± Naira muttered. ¡°I have noticed that its movement followed his own eyesight. That is¡­ remarkable.¡±


    Auria gritted her teeth. ¡°He burnt, and broke my arm. Nothing remarkable about it. Fuck.¡± she spat on the ground. ¡°We need to get it off of him.¡±


    ¡°Medic¡­¡± Harian gasped. ¡°He¡­ aged.¡±


    ¡°What now?¡± Auria was confused.


    ¡°He aged, by¡­ twenty years, perhaps. His hair wasn¡¯t starting to gray yet, he was rather young looking but now¡­¡±


    Wrinkles were noticeable on the historian¡¯s face, as well as a soft, gray tint of his hair. ¡°We definitely need to get it off him.¡±


    ¡°You can¡¯t. The device is¡­ ah, look for yourself, Auria.¡±


    She did. Under the skin on the historian''s back, Auria could see that something was spreading from the device directly to his spine like thick worms crawling through the dirt.


    ¡°When he wakes up, he will burn down the building if we don¡¯t subdue him. Or it will kill him, make him age¡­¡± Harian muttered softly.


    ¡°Not necessarily.¡± Naira said. ¡°It seemed to be protecting him. And following his gaze¡­ if he wakes up, and if he doesn¡¯t panic but is calm and rational, he might¡­ subdue the mechanism. Control it. Maybe even somehow command it to detach itself from him. Auria, can you make him wake up calm¡­ somehow?¡±

 Chapter 5 - Into the tunnels

    Water trickled down the curved tunnel walls and into a small stream, which caused every step they made to land in salty water. Forty of them - two for each ship in the fleet - split into teams to cover ground quicker, and Suranihr and Iarvahr were joined by a historian called Janjun, and by a chemist with the name Felana. They walked in silence - Iarvahr led the group in front, axe in one hand and bright lantern in other hand, with Suranihr guarding the back.


    Tunnel walls were wavy and lumpy, with a plethora of small holes and claw marks. Everything around them seemed porous, sponge-like, but the tunnel walls were as hard as a stone, and the ground was as stable as a cobblestone pavement. Their steps resonated through tunnels, the sound of splashing water spreading far, and each of them was keeping a sharp eye for shrieks,  as they started calling the race of five limbed monsters.


    They came to a crossroads and stopped moving. To the right, a tunnel started to drop down, deeper into the body of an island and from the tunnel to the left, a faint light could be seen. With a few swings of his axe, Iarvahr carved a mark into the wall of a tunnel - an arrow to mark the way out of the tunnels. ¡°The light probably means the way outside. We should go deeper.¡±


    After a few minutes, they stopped. Iarvahr put his finger on his lips and they listened.


    They could hear a soft chitter coming from the tunnel in front of them. Iarvahr raised his axe and made a slow movement downwards. Get ready.


    He banged his axe against the wall. The loud clang was echoing through the tunnels and chittering turned into dangerous humming. Iarvahr felt nothing, but the rest of the company started shivering. He turned his head towards them and all gave him a signal that they were okay.


    They moved deeper and after a while, the tunnel started to rise. Shrieks were nowhere to be seen and violent humming has turned into a chitter once again and then, into a deep silence..


    After half an hour of walking, Iarvahr had to admit that they were lost. Even though he left marks on the walls, when they tried to turn around and head back to the large chamber, crossroads and tunnels appeared that they did not see before.


    ¡°Fifteen more minutes, and then we will head back.¡± Suranihr muttered. Tunnel after tunnel, crossroads after crossroads, they found¡­ nothing. Five minutes, ten, fifteen, they turned around, and walked for half an hour, an hour, two hours, their path curving, rising and descending¡­


    They stopped at the nearest crossroads to eat some of their rations that consisted mostly out of dried fruit and meat, and while chewing silently, Suranihr tried to find some plan on how to get out of the tunnels. Everything was silent, even the water stopped running down the walls.


    ¡°Any ideas on how to get out?¡± He asked Iarvahr. His voice was muffled, as if the acoustics of deeper tunnels were much different than those closer to the surface.


    Iarvahr just shook his head. ¡°We just have to hope to find some of my marks.¡±


    ¡°We certainly found nothing in these tunnels. Nothing living, nor dead.¡±


    The chemist approached him. ¡°Captain¡­ I have to relieve myself.¡±


    ¡°Very well. Iarvahr will go with you.¡±


    ¡°I mean no disrespect, but I would prefer Janjun to come with me.¡±


    Iarvahr raised his eyebrow, but made no comment. Suranihr nodded. ¡°Very well. Do not take too long.¡±


    The chemist and historian saluted them both and walked away. Iarvahr chuckled. ¡°They did not seem to like us.¡±


    ¡°Morro¡¯s crew is as dead inside as he is. The butcher. The executioner. The death itself, the Reaper, wielding hiis Scythe. They¡­¡±


    Loud screams full of pain filled their ears. They did not wait, and started to run after the chemist and historian. Screaming did not fade out, but the acoustics of the tunnels made it impossible to follow and even after two minutes of mad running, they could not find anybody. Then, the screams faded into a buzz that seemed to vibrate the air around them.


    ¡°I hate this place.¡± Iarvahr spat on the ground.


    ¡°How much oil do you have for the lanterns?¡± Suranihr asked in an irritated voice.


    ¡°For one last refill¡­ why do you ask?¡±


    ¡°Because mine fell out of my sack while I was running. Fuck this place.¡± Out of irritation and frustration, he hit his axe against the wall. A wave of nausea followed by a staccato of vibrating sound hit him like a hammer, and he staggered backwards, falling butt first onto the ground. Iarvahr jumped quickly in front of him and bashed rapidly into the body of a shriek that appeared out of the opening in the wall - a tunnel hole that masked itself as a shadow. His Haraag made armor absorbed the acoustic waves directed at him and besides a soft tingling, he felt nothing. He jumped out of the reach of shriek¡¯s claws and without a second of hesitation, Iarvahr cut off one clawed limb free. The shriek cried out a painful sound and leapt at Iarvahr, pinning him against the wall. Its claws, while sharp, could not pierce the hard sandsteel, but the firm grip of its clawed limbs made Iarvahr unable to move.


    Suranihr looked around. His lantern went black after landing on the ground and cracking open and to add to it, his vision was blurry and reddened from the sound attack of a shriek. He heard something move behind him and he swung his naval axe as swiftly as he could in the direction of the movement. He hit another shriek right into its mouth full of needle sharp teeth. The axe got stuck in shriek¡¯s body and as the shriek jumped away from Suranihr, it ripped the axe out from his grip. Not waiting for an invitation, Suranihr pulled out his revolver gun out of his holster and fired six quick shots at the shriek. The creature fell on the ground, thrashing, but apparently dying.


    Iarvahr was still unable to overpower the shriek that pinned him to the wall. At least he was safe, encased in his armor, and the shriek¡¯s sound attacks had no effect on him. Suranihr however felt each and every one of them and even though they were not aimed directly at him, the acoustics of the tunnel made the sound as painful as a fist blow. All he could do was to try and endure.


    With shaking hands, he reloaded his gun and tried to aim at the shriek. His first shot missed the creature and hit Iarvahr into the shoulder instead, making a dent in his armor, but his second shot hit the now four limbed monster. Iarvahr ripped his hand out of the creature''s grip, pulled out his wide dagger and stabbed the creature wherever he could, again and again, until the shriek let go of him and jumped out of his reach.


    Four shots tore holes close to the creature¡¯s mouth and one bash of an axe later, the shriek was lying dead at Iarvahr¡¯s feet.


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    Suranihr spat blood onto the corpse of a dead shriek. ¡°We need to leave this hellhole at once.¡±


    ¡°We shouldn¡¯t have come here in the first place.¡±


    Not twenty paces ahead, they found a half eaten corpse of the chemist Felana. Few of her vials were broken, oozing liquids of vivid colors into the salty water. The historian was lying on the ground next to her, still alive but barely. His chest was rising and falling down slowly, but blood rushed out of him from multiple wounds. The whole area was lit by the light of two lanterns, and it looked almost¡­ unreal.


    Iarvahr quickly moved to help him, but Suranihr stopped him. ¡°Wait. Look at the wall above his head.¡±


    Iarvahr noticed a wavy crack in the wall that appeared to be slowly breathing. It opened a few centimeters, and then closed again without making even the slightest noise. It was unnatural and chills ran down his spine from the sight. He and Suranihr looked at each other and nodded.


    ¡°I have had enough of this place.¡± Suranihr growled, and with his revolver aimed at the wall, he walked right to it decisively.  Just as it opened a little bit, he shot three bullets right into it. The crack opened wide and a shriek jumped out of it, screaming with pain, thrashing its limbs all around. Iarvahr was already waiting for it, bashing its carapace with an axe, cutting its limbs off of the torso and stabbing with his wide dagger right between the segments of shriek¡¯s body. It was over quickly, and where there was but a crack in the wall, another tunnel waited open.


    ¡°We are fucked, Iarvahr, you know that right? Completely, utterly fucked.¡±


    ¡°I guess that now I understand how we¡¯ve got lost.¡±


    ¡°Is the historian actually alive?¡± Suranihr asked. Iarvahr just shook his head. ¡°He was alive, right until this shriek clawed him open.¡±


    Neither of them had seen death for the first time, not even for the twentieth time. They had to act, and not mourn the fallen.


    ¡°So what now? We will never escape this place when tunnels can appear and disappear. Certainly not with shrieks hiding in the dark.¡±


    Iarvahr watched the bodies of their comrades, the broken vials and oozing chemicals¡­ ¡°I have an idea. How good of a shot are you?¡±


    Iarvahr took all remaining, unbroken vials from the chemist¡¯s corpse and stacked them on one pile. He added both lanterns right next to the pile, as well as a single fuse grenade that he found on the historian¡¯s corpse. They walked away as far as they could, and Suranihr aimed.


    ***


    They had no idea what kinds of alchemical marvels the chemist carried with her, and they certainly could not anticipate what happened after Suranihr took his shot. An explosion of such a magnitude took them both by a surprise, and they both went deaf momentarily. There was dust everywhere, the water around the explosion evaporated in an instant and dry, porous material that the island was made off crumbled like a sandstone. Wide cracks spread through the tunnel walls everywhere around them and before they could react, the ground beneath their feet gave away.


    They landed in a large, oval room. Iarvahr tasted blood in his mouth and could not stand up, disoriented as he was. Suranihr helped him to his knees.


    ¡°I applaud your idea, Iarvahr.¡±


    ¡°Shut up.¡±


    They looked around the room they fell into. They were stunned, shocked from what they saw - nothing in this room reminded them of the tunnels they were in just moments before. Everything around them was made of metal and glass, with scores of pale blue wires sticking out of every metallic box they laid their eyes upon. On a number of glass rectangles, pale blue letters of unknown language danced and changed, twisted, appeared out of nowhere and disappeared into the darkness. Soft humming could be heard and felt everywhere around them, pulsing in the same, repeating pattern that they have heard once before, but neither of them could remember where or when. There were tables around the room with books and paper stacked on them in perfect condition, as if they were written just yesterday, and everything was lit in a soft blue tint. In the middle of the room, there was a large chair, with what appeared to be the remains of a disfigured body. Three long metallic arms were sticking out of it, and half of its bones were bent, twisted and stretched, but none of them were broken. Yet the skull¡­ the skull was unmistakingly human.


    ¡°What the hell have we fallen into¡­¡± Suranihr murmured disbelievingly, and Iarvahr gave him no answer. He was walking around the room, slowly observing and examining everything. His mouth moved wordlessly, his movements erratic.


    Suranihr walked to the nearest, glaring panel of glass and looked at it, confusion visible in his face. ¡°This map is wrong. Simply wrong. There is no island across the Frozen sea, nor across the ocean. And these islands? I think that¡­¡± Suranihr pointed at the islands on the map, touching the glass panel, and the picture shifted. The map disappeared, and islands suddenly filled the whole panel. They were visualized with great detail, as if viewed from a bird¡¯s eye, with green jungles and fuming volcanoes filled with boiling, red lava.


    ¡°What is this sorcery? Who made it?¡±


    ¡°I think the answer is obvious.¡± Iarvahr¡¯s grave-like voice sent chills down Suranihr¡¯s spine. He followed Iarvahr¡¯s gaze and turned his head towards the skeleton.


    His gaze shifted again and he looked at other glass panels. There were foreign letters on them and he could not understand a thing. His attention returned to the map and he disbelievingly touched it again - this time, with two fingers. The map spread out again, and large landmasses appeared on the glass panel.


    ¡°Are you listening to me, Suranihr?¡± Iarvahr asked, irritated. His eyes twitched around the room.  ¡°Be careful touching unknown things.¡±


    ¡°You did not say a word. And it¡¯s just a map. Wait¡­¡± He pointed at an area of the map where their fleet should be, and after the map enlarged¡­ ¡°Fuck me, Iarvahr. This is us. Now. Our fleet. There is my ship, and there is Scythe, Needle, Red Widow, Alterna, Krisos¡­ You know that I don¡¯t believe in witchcraft¡­¡±


    Iarvahr growled with anger in his voice. ¡°It''s not witchcraft. It¡¯s just advanced technology.¡±


    ¡°Advanced techno¡­ Iarvahr! We are looking at our fleet, from above, right fucking now! This is insane¡­¡±


    ¡°Have you ever been to the wall of Bashen? A big wall of metal, west border of Glaeria? You know the one, with giant cannons sitting on top of it, spitting streams of green and blue fire? Oh, did I mention that there were no people on the wall? Just the cannons, killing whatever moved?¡± Suranihr looked at him in disbelief. Iarvahr looked him deep in the eyes and slowly nodded. ¡°This is just a technology. There is no such thing as witchcraft. Never was, never will be. That¡¯s why we, in the Lands of the Citadel, are so far ahead of Antigan, Malorea, Ladrurg, and fucking Glaeria! No believing in magic, no gods above us, just our intellect, wits and talent. Hard work, that¡¯s what made us what we are.  Look around you, Suranihr! These¡­ glass panels, they are like books! Letters, pictures, whatever, they are just shining bright. You know what this all reminds me of? Along with the remains of this twisted fellow? The monstrosity that is the Bashen wall, all of this stuff around us, along with everything buried beneath the citadel and beneath our world, was built by the same civilization that built the wall. Maybe even shrieks come from there somehow, or maybe the shrieks made all of this!¡± he screamed the last words. They stood in silence, looking at one another, unsure of what to do next. Iarvahr was shaking, his eyes twitching, his hands madly gripping the emptiness of air.


    Suranihr knew Iarvahr for what felt like ages, but as time passed, they drifted apart.  Each of them went their own way - Suranihr climbed the ranks in the Citadel¡¯s navy until became captain of the cruiser Luthra, and even though from the beginning, Iarvahr used to accompany him on many voyages, the time came when Iarvahr got sick of the sailor life. Zeears ago, Iarvahr joined an expedition, its destination and purpose unknown to Suranihr and barely half a year ago, Iarvahr returned from the expedition alone, with his mind shattered and  broken. When Suranihr met his old friend, Iarvahr stared at him with dead eyes and open mouth, wordless, as if  he saw a ghost. It took almost three months for him to recover, but he never mentioned anything regarding the horrors he must have endured, not even how and where he got the prized Haraag armor. But Suranihr felt like the time had come for Iarvahr to speak.


    ¡°My friend¡­ What happened to you?¡± With these words, Suraniht turned to Iarvahr only to find him staring at one of the glass panels with letters on it.


    Iarvahr¡¯s eyes widened and his mouth opened and closed rapidly, soundless, breathless. Blood disappeared from his face and his skin turned snow white. He looked directly at the skeleton, as if he had seen the deformed bones for the first time. As if he had overlooked them until now.  He spread his armes and turned around, forcibly laughing the emotionless laughter. ¡°I have seen this¡­ before.¡± A sudden realization hit Suranihr with the force of a battle hammer. Iarvahr was not irritated from being angry. Iarvahr was¡­ frightened.


    ¡°Iarvahr.¡± Suranihr came closer to him, slowly putting his hand on his friend¡¯s shoulder. ¡°Speak. Talk to me. I can¡¯t have you here like this.¡±


    Iarvahr turned to him, and took a deep breath¡­

 Chapter 6 - The deformed and the broken

    It made his mind wander. Who were the ancient builders? What knowledge did they possess? And were the rumors true that they built their empire with sorcery?


    To reinforce the pact between the holy empire of Glaeria and Lands of the Citadel, an expedition made out of joint Glaerian and Citadel forces was sent to the wall. Or, to be more precise, to the large, trading village close to the wall. They were encamped outside of the village, their large group split into smaller parties of just a few people, each with their own campfire. Medics of both lands shared their experience, soldiers compared their heroic deeds, and historians and archaeologists from the Citadel were¡­ quarreling.


    Not among themselves, but with priests from Glaeria. Where historians and archaeologists were men of fact, priests were men of fate. Where historians saw the cause of the most recent plague in the golden city to be the rodents, filth and poverty, priests saw it as a punishment from god. Where archaeologists marveled at the ideas and notions of new artifacts to be found this close to the wall, priests were going on and on about a race of twisted monsters and devils made by the god¡¯s eternal opponent.


    Iarvahr sat on the ground with his back laid against the trunk of the large oak. The night was beginning to fall, but the warm, summer air drove away the chills and the smell of roasting meat and bubbling stew made his mouth filled with saliva.


    With a pipe in one hand and a mug of weak beer in the other, he watched the wall. He wasn¡¯t interested in bickering and quarrels, he enjoyed the beautiful nature around him - green hills and fields of grass and wildflowers, strong, old trees around them, the scent of bonfire and food¡­ It was beautiful. No blood around them, no rot, no broken bones or screams of pain¡­ Everything was as it should be in the world. Beautiful and peaceful.


    ¡°Marvelous, isn¡¯t it?¡± A mechanic by the name of Leonie Mair sat down next to him, taking his empty mug and giving him another full one. ¡°I wonder how long they were building the wall.¡±


    He chuckled silently. ¡°Glaerian records state that it was built in a month by the forces of evil.¡±


    ¡°They are strange folk. Very different from us.¡±


    He nodded and handed her the pipe. She inhaled a strong lungful and coughed. ¡°You have made it a bit stronger today.¡±


    ¡°One of their soldiers¡­ eh, can''t remember his name. Cayan, Fayan, something along those lines, he gave me a small pouch of his own tobacco. Strong stuff, as you say.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t play dumb with me, Iarvi, you remember his name. You also remember the illness you have helped him to treat.¡±


    He chuckled. ¡°You are right, as always, Leo.¡± He caressed her golden hair with a gentle touch and she laid her head against his shoulder. They watched the wall together, silently enjoying each other¡¯s company.


    She turned her head towards him, gently kissing his cheek. ¡°Let¡¯s go to the tent. I¡¯m getting¡­ chilly.¡± She whispered in a luscious voice. He chuckled. ¡°I really doubt that.¡± he said as she was leading him by his hand to their tent.


    ***


    Her naked body was the most beautiful thing Iarvahr has ever seen. Running his fingers along her belly, he was smiling like a boy that laid next to a woman for the first time. She laughed softly. ¡°After all this time, Iarvi? I¡¯ll never get tired of seeing you looking at me like this.¡±


    ¡°I can¡¯t help myself.¡± He whispered as he squeezed her inner thigh, which led to a soft moan from  Leonie. He moved his hand between her legs, feeling her wetness, as he kissed her beautiful, dark red lips. In a response, she embraced him tightly, getting on top of him and teasing him, rubbing her body against him. He did not wait, could not wait. He grabbed her hips and with a quick, yet gentle move, he entered her.


    They were in a tight embrace, never letting go of the other, his mouth kissing her neck, her mouth moaning softly to his ear. Her grip tightened, as she was nearing the climax, and Iarvahr stopped, rolled her off him onto her belly, grabbed her arms, held them behind her back, and entered her again. Gentle lovemaking turned into a wild, almost animalistic sex, and she moaned louder. ¡°Yes, yes¡­¡± she whimpered, pushing her nails into her own hands, curling her toes and biting the soft pillow her head was buried in. The pillow muffled her scream as she climaxed, and Iarvahr grabbed her hair, pulling it with just the right force to make it that much more pleasurable. He came into her and after a few last thrusts, he crumbled next to her, exhausted. She smiled at him, softly biting his arm. ¡°You really do know how to make me happy, Iarvi.¡±


    They laid next to each other in a soft embrace. Even after the second round of sex that evening, they did not want to let go of one another. She fell asleep quickly, and Iarvahr was on his way to follow her into the dreamland¡­


    ***


    ¡°What the hell is this?¡± He shouted as glaerian soldiers brought to him one of their own, his armor eaten through by a volatile acid, revealing his blister covered flesh. ¡°What have you done?¡±


    ¡°The deformed came from inside the cave. We¡¯ve cut them down, but their blood¡­¡± The soldier pointed at his screaming brother in arms.


    ¡°They have attacked you? They came from the closed gate, and attacked you?¡±


    ¡°No they¡­ came at us¡­¡±


    Iarvahr slapped him hard with his glove made of haraag sandsteel. ¡°Did. They. Attack. You.¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡± Another soldier with armor made of shining, brass scales said in a resolute voice. Iarvahr did not believe him one bit. He turned to a victim, but before he could do anything, he was dead.


    ¡°How many of them have you slaughtered?¡±


    ¡°All of the beasts that came at us¡­¡±


    ***


    They have explored the unnatural cave system for the better half of the day. Everything around them was precisely cut, right angles or perfect oval shapes everywhere. It was not made by nature, that he was sure about.


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    ¡°They are so different from us.¡± Leonie whispered to him. Iarvahr nodded.


    ¡°As well as this¡­ cooperation started, I am starting to regret ever joining.¡±


    ¡°Why do they immediately just kill the deformed? Have you ever seen them actually attack us? They just shamble, walk slowly towards us with limbs stretched to us like¡­¡±


    ¡°Like they want our help. Like they need our help.¡±


    ¡°I wonder what was the purpose of this room.¡±


    Iavahr looked around. ¡°It looks like a surgical suite. The tables and the tools lying on the sterile tables all around them¡­ It is all strange to me, I admit, but it evokes something¡­ familiar in me.¡±


    A scream from the corridor outside the room startled them, and they ran out, weapons in their hands.


    ***


    ¡°You have no right!¡± Leonie screamed right in the face of glaerian soldier.


    ¡°No right?¡± He asked her back. Iarvahr watched the bound deformed, wrapped in thick linen ropes being dragged towards the wooden carriages. They moaned, drooled and begged in their own, unfamiliar language. But they did not resist.


    ¡°They are living, thinking beings! They have been humans once!¡± Leonie stood just a hand¡¯s width apart from the soldier.


    ¡°Shut up!¡± he growled back at her and pushed her strongly. She stumbled and landed on the ground. ¡°They are as far from humans as dogs are from rabbits! They serve the dark god, and look what it made from them. Monsters. Freaks. Deformed, sins against humanity.¡±


    There were six of them against twenty glaerians. He looked at the newest deformed that was being dragged out from the cave, the only one of them that was actually resisting. It¡­ She cradled a small child, with a few strands of blonde hair on its head. It looked¡­ healthy. No blisters, fur, claws or animal-like visage, no additional limbs, not deformed in any visible way. The deformed mother¡¯s eyes caught his own, and her face, however twisted it was, had one clearly visible question written in it. Why?


    They ripped the crying child from her long, unnaturally bent arms. A soldier hit the mutant-mother with the hilt of his sword, and something snapped loudly.


    Claws, tendrils, teeth, the deformed had it all¡­ But none of them attacked. They didn¡¯t even defend themselves. This situation was evil in its purest form.


    His eyes fell on Leonie on the ground. Without thinking anymore, he bashed the skull of the nearest glaerian with a heavy head of his axe. It went right through the brass helmet, with almost no resistance whatsoever, and even before the soldier fell on the ground, dead, the axe was already flying towards the second soldier. He did not think. He threw the glass bottle of sterilizing alcohol towards the glaerian soldier that carried the lit torch, only to engulf him in bluish flames. A sword was flying towards him, but he stepped out of its way, thrusting his armored gauntlet against the swordwielder¡¯s throat.


    Leonie reacted quickly, sending shot after shot from her revolving pistol against the brass clad glaerians. Three fell to the ground before she had ro reload.


    They were still outnumbered, but not outmatched. Two historians and two archaeologists that came with them did not join the fight with weapons in their hands, for they carried none save their small knives. Instead, they started to cut the deformed free. The deformed, perhaps startled by the notion of somebody fighting for them rather than killing them, started to resist their bindings and their oppressors, and glaerian soldiers suddenly had to make a choice - to let go of the bound freaks, or to join the fight and let the deformed go.


    They chose the third option. They ran. But they ran the wrong way, not towards the relative safety of the expeditionary camp, or even towards the trader¡¯s village. They ran towards the Bashen wall that was dangerously close to the cave entrance.


    Streams of liquid fire colored all shades of blue and green rained down upon them, melting their armor, burning their bodies to a crisp. None of them survived.


    Only one glaerian had the wits to jump on his horse and flee towards the village. Leonie sent six shots after him, but hit him only once, and she only hit his shoulder.


    Iarvahr stood above the dying glaerian captain that shoved Leonie. The soldier still tried to unsheathe his blade, but it was hard for him to move with lower spine crushed from the gunshot.


    ¡°You¡­will¡­¡± He gargled through bloody bubbles coming from his mouth. But Iarvahr was not interested in his words. He hit the captain''s head with his armored fist, again and again, screaming with pure, unchecked rage. When all that was left was a mash of blood, brain and bone, he stopped. He slowly stood up, and looked around.


    The deformed stood around him in a circle, motionless in their silence.


    ¡°Go hide.¡± He murmured. As if they understood him, they turned as one and started to shamble towards the cave.


    ***


    ¡°Will they ever stop trying?¡± Leonie was panting, her hair, gray and black from dust and blood stuck to her tired face.


    Only fifteen survived the massacre that happened at the joint encampment, and all of them went looking for Iarvahr and his group. Out of the fifteen, five were dead, killed in relentless assault of glaerians.


    ¡°They are dumb. The more of them there are, the dumber they act.¡±


    Two hundred soldiers were waiting in front of the cave entrance. They were left inside, besieged and without supplies¡­


    ***


    He held her dying body in his arms, tears streaming down his blood and dirt covered face. She was shivering, moaning from pain, and her once beautiful body was covered with large blisters and burnt skin. He was unsure which glaerian threw the primitive firebomb, but it served its purpose. He could not help her.


    ¡°Kill¡­ me¡­ it¡­ hurts¡­¡±


    He knew it was the humane thing to do. She was suffering, dying slowly but surely. He should end it in one quick stroke of the blade¡­ But he could not bring himself to do it.


    ¡°Please¡­¡±


    He sobbed. She grabbed his hand with her last strength and squeezed it softly.


    ¡°...love you¡­¡± She whispered, as he slit her throat. A smile of her cracked, burnt lips was the last thing he remembered of her.


    ***


    ¡°That¡¯s the last thing I remember¡­ I was mad. Insane with grief, or perhaps with some¡­ I¡­ I¡¯ve lost it. I know that I¡¯ve killed glaerians, I remember bashing their skulls with my own fist, breaking their armor apart with my axe but¡­ I don¡¯t know when or where. First thing I remember clearly from that time is the dense forest. Starved as I was, I ate everything around me I could find - berries, bird eggs¡­ I found a half eaten deer, and I ate its meat raw like a savage. Only then did I start to think. Where was everybody? Where was¡­ Leonie? I cried, I screamed, begged the forest for death¡­


    ¡°I have failed them all. I have lost them all. I have lost Leonie¡­ I could not protect her. As I walked back to the Citadel, alone, with my thoughts¡­ It broke me, Suri. For a time, I thought that I got over it but I never did. And this, everything around us, it Brought it back. I have seen it all, you know. Devices similar to these around us. In the caves of the deformed, near the Bashen wall¡­¡±


    Suranihr was silent, listening to the old friend¡¯s breaking voice. Iarvahr was openly weeping, but there was a question he had to ask. ¡°Did you ever tell your daughter?¡±


    ¡°She was away¡­ Healing other people¡¯s mistakes somewhere I bet. And when she came back home¡­ I couldn¡¯t. I couldn¡¯t bring myself to do it. I couldn¡¯t face her¡­¡±


    ¡°And so you ran away. With me.¡± Suranihr finished.


    Full of shame, Iarvahr nodded. They sat for a good ten minutes, silent, thinking. Suranihr stood up.


    ¡°We should gather something from here, the mechanics would love to take a look at this stuff. We need to find our way out.¡±

 Chapter 7 - The mind of the metal

    ¡°Is there a way you could remove it, Auria?¡±


    She shook her head. ¡°It has overgrown right through his spine. I¡­ No. I don¡¯t think so. This is beyond my skills.¡±


    ¡°What about triarch?¡± Harian asked. Auria just shook her hand. ¡°Useless. He¡¯s a paper man, politician. Does he keep the hospitals well stocked and supplied? Yes. Can he make surgical incisions? As well as you can, probably. No offense.¡±


    ¡°None taken, medic. How¡¯s the arm?¡±


    ¡°Broken to fuck. I¡¯m sorry to be rude, it just hurts like hell...¡± Harian just shrugged, with a corner of his mouth raised slightly in a hidden smile.


    ¡°What hurts more, the burned skin or broken bone?¡± Naira asked her, curiously. Auria just braked a painful laugh.. ¡°The skin is gone to fuck. Nerves burned out, I can¡¯t feel it really. That means that the burn is serious. On the other hand¡­ well, I suppose on the same hand, the broken bone hurts like fuck. That means that it is¡­ well, as serious as a broken arm can fucking be. And once again, soldier, I am sorry to be rude and to swear so much in front of you, I am usually not this¡­ ill mannered.¡°


    Harian smiled openly. ¡°It is okay, medic. Do you want me to get you some painkillers?¡± The moment he said it, he regretted it. He asked a medic, if he should get her a painkiller, inside the hospital where she worked. Harian, you are really dumb sometimes.


    Auria did not mind the question, and she tried to smile at him warmly. ¡°Thank you, I¡¯ll live. Now, you two, think. Talk among yourselves. You were there, soldier, you have seen what happened. And you, Naira, you live your whole life tinkering and creating and breaking down things like this.¡± Naira started to open her mouth, but Auria wasn¡¯t finished yet. ¡°Or other things, I really don¡¯t fucking care right now. Just do something until I fix myself.¡±


    ***


    ¡°So that¡¯s your great plan, to leave him here. With me. With a broken bone and burned skin. While you two go lurking into the repository where he fell on the device, hoping to find something that will help you.¡±


    Naira nodded slowly, and Harian shrugged. ¡°That seems¡­ reasonable. Where it happened, there are plenty other things that could.. I dunno, reverse it.¡±


    Auria nodded. ¡°Great idea. I can¡¯t, for the love of myself, think of any reason why that plan would not work. It¡¯s not like he could wake up any moment and burn me down with a thought, or the whole building. And there surely was just one potentially lethal item in that repository, so you probably don''t need a medic with you.¡°


    Naira rolled her eyes. ¡°We know it¡¯s not ideal, Auria. Do we have other options? You can¡¯t cut him off of it. Can anybody, really? In the Citadel?¡±


    ¡°Not in the Citadel. Not right now.¡±


    ¡°You think your father could do it?¡±


    She shook her head. ¡°No. And, a small detail you might¡¯ve missed - how would you get into the artifact repository? It¡¯s not like anybody can just dance inside, uninvited, shuffle through ancient - and one might add that potentially deadly - artifacts, and leave.¡±


    Harian coughed. ¡°A guard owes me a favor¡­ or seven.¡±


    Auria sighed, irritated. ¡° Allright. Go. Go to the repository for fucks sake. Your plan is stupid, but it¡¯s the only one I can think of until the pain dissipates.¡±


    They left her alone with the historian. The throbbing pain in her arm subsided, and she put out the used pipe.


    ¡°How long have you been awake?¡± She asked Lakar. Historian opened his eyes. his heart started to beat faster, and the metal arm twitched.


    ¡°Calm down now.¡± Auria raised her hands in defense. ¡°I won¡¯t do a thing to you. Anything I could do, at least anything I can think of, would kill you.¡± The arm twitched more violently this time. ¡°Calm down.¡±


    ¡°You drugged me¡­¡± He said with a weak voice.


    ¡°And you burned and broke my fucking arm, thank you very much.¡±


    Panic could be heard from his voice. ¡°I did¡­ how?¡±


    ¡°Doesn¡¯t matter. Does it hurt?¡±


    ¡°Yes¡­ I mean, no, it doesn¡¯t hurt me, but the projector hurts¡­¡±


    She froze with a pipe close to her mouth. ¡°The what?¡±


    ¡°Projector. It was called a projector by its creators¡­¡±


    ¡°You read it somewhere? Harian didn¡¯t mention¡­¡±


    He shook his head. ¡°I just.. Know it. It told me. In my mind.¡±


    ¡°The arm speaks to you.¡± She spoke calmly, but inside, she was shivering. ¡®He might be in shock after the trauma¡­¡¯


    ¡°It¡­ No, just¡­ Bah!¡± He jumped down from the bed, his limbs stretching in the small room. He looked around. ¡°I did this? I burned¡­ it?¡±


    ¡°Your projector did.¡± She nodded. ¡°Can you control it?¡±


    He looked at the farthest wall. ¡®Now how would I control it¡­ I feel the projector, maybe if I reach out with¡­¡¯


    The projector sticking out of Lakar¡¯s back shone brightly, and the wall directly opposite of him started to deteriorate. There wasn¡¯t a fire, there wasn¡¯t a smoke, it just¡­ burned. Wood turned charcoal beneath the burnt paint, and the blackness was slowly spreading wherever Lakar looked, until¡­


    He fell on his knees, panting heavily. ¡°I¡­ It is... Tiring.¡± Looking at the ground, he saw his hands, covered in brown spots¡­ She knelt beside him. checking his vital signs, observing his changing body.


    ¡°You have aged. Rapidly. Your hair is¡­ gray. Skin wrinkled, and paper-thin. Fat disappeared from your body by the looks of it, and there aren¡¯t many muscles left. It¡¯s draining you.¡±


    ¡°I¡­ hunger. It needs¡­ to feed.¡±


    ¡°Feed on what?¡±


    He lunged at her, pinning her to the ground. Through his grinding teeth, he growled. ¡°Life. New life. We¡¯ll make a new life. I¡¯ll make a new life inside you. And I will feed it¡­ ¡°


    ¡°Get the fuck away from me!¡± She screamed, her scream filled with pain of her pinned down, broken arm, and with white hot rage. She threw him off of her, but he leapt right back at her, trying to pull down her breeches with weak arms.


    ¡°Feed¡­¡± he growled, senseless, mindless.


    She punched and kicked, rolled out of his reach. He was slow, and so was the arm. Auria kicked him down, stood on his back, pinning him to the ground. She took hold of the metallic arm.


    ¡°Do not fucking move.¡± She growled while breathing rapidly.


    ¡°Feed ME!¡± He screams, thrashing his limbs weakly. ¡°I¡­ I¡­¡± The arm started to shine again, and Auria pulled on it, trying to rip it out of his back, or to somehow rip it apart¡­


    With a loud squelching sound, she ripped the projector out of his back, tearing his skin, spine and ribcage apart. The arm acted on it¡¯s own and long, still bloody tendrils wrapped around her body, tearing her white blouse and apron apart, burying themselves deeply inside her back¡­


    She felt the tendrils burying themselves into her skin right where the scars on her back were. The sensation was painful, but it was also¡­ familiar. Something uncertain jolted through her mind, and she suddenly felt like she was barely a child from her dream, having large, metal nails driven through her back¡­


    She fell on her knees and screamed helplessly as the projector nestled itself in her body.


    ***


    ¡°They all share some similar characteristics. Precise angles, similar material they are made of, design. Overcomplicated for my taste.¡± Naira muttered as she dug through the heaps of artifacts.


    ¡°You understand them? You know what they are for?¡± Harian asked with raised eyebrows. She nodded slowly. ¡°Most of them, by the looks of it.¡±  Impressive¡­ he thought.


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    ¡°For example, this is obviously a weapon.¡± She grabbed a short, angular device made of blackest metal. To Harian, it looked like a large, black L. She held it as if she had held the same thing a thousand times before. ¡°Not very different from my own¡­ Hm. Where do you put the ammunition¡­ Aha! Soldier, help me find something¡­¡±


    He closed his eyes in a pained memory. ¡°Hexagonal? No. That¡¯s what we inserted into the arm-thing.¡±


    Naira put the weapon away. ¡°They all share the same characteristics, as I said before. Most of the things around us have a hexagonal shaped hole in them. Those¡­¡± She thought of the correct word to use.


    ¡°Prisms?¡±


    ¡°Yes, that. They are probably used as a power source in this technology.¡±


    ¡°A power source. Are you talking about magic?¡± Harian barked out a laugh. He stopped when he saw that Naira did not even smile.


    ¡°Maybe.¡± she muttered. Just as she said it, she shook her hand. ¡°No. Magic is just a phenomenon that we haven¡¯t explained with science and observation yet. A power source¡­ Perhaps like a steam engine, but smaller. Much smaller.¡± Something to make the devices¡­ work.¡±


    ¡°So these power sources I found right now, they should be harmless?¡± he asked, looking into a box filled with soft-blue glowing prisms.


    ¡°Not necessarily. That these overcomplicated devices can harness the power of prisms doesn''t necessarily mean that the human body can too.¡± She grabbed a bulky looking gauntlet from the pile of artifacts, turning it around in her hands. ¡°Now what do you do¡­¡±


    ¡°Why do historians and archaeologists catalog these things, instead of mechanics?¡±


    Naira walked to him, donning the gauntlet on her left hand. ¡°We¡¯re curious. We want to test things. Not catalog them.¡± She said excitedly. Her heart was beating fast. The rush of curiosity, of discovery, filled her to the brim. Her usual bleak mood disappeared, the everpresent misery, sadness and heart throbbing pain gone for a minute there. She pushed Harian aside gently to grab a power prism out of the box.


    ¡°You shouldn¡¯t touch it with bare hands¡­¡± he muttered.


    ¡°I know.¡± She nodded. ¡°And I also shouldn¡¯t do this.¡± She muttered as she inserted the power prism into the gauntlet.


    ***


    She didn¡¯t pass out. During the whole painful process, she stayed awake, feeling every metallic tendril of the arm running through her body, twisting, tearing and digging their way right to her spine. She felt the tendrils merge with her spinal cord in a sharp, stabbing sensation and then¡­


    The pain was gone.


    All the pain was gone.


    Her broken hand didn¡¯t hurt anymore, as much as tingle and itch. The everpresent pain in her head, usually blocked to a degree by the pain-killing smoke, was gone. But there was something different there.


    Until now, she felt the void in her head from which the pain usually came. Now, the void was filled by something. A being, a consciousness perhaps, the projector filled the void inside her head. It fit there perfectly, like a brick fits into the wall.


    She moved the arm as if it was her own. She looked at it, examined it. Somehow, Auria had a feeling that the projector knew her.


    It wasn¡¯t evil. Dangerous, yes, but not evil. She felt as if she understood it, as if she knew that the projector is just an extension of her will, a tool devised to guide and amplify her inner strength, her inner power¡­ that she could project her will right through the metal.


    The sensation was familiar, and she was sure that she already felt it, at least once before. That the metallic tendrils of the projector entered her body right through the scars on her back, the scars she woke up with the first day she could remember, it was no coincidence. She knew that. She understood it.


    Auria stood up, stretching her three upper limbs. She touched the ceiling of the surgical suite with the projector, and she felt it. She brushed the projector against the wet, blood-soaked remains of the historian lying on the ground, and she felt the wet.


    Auria laughed. At first, she laughed like a child, giggling at a silly joke, but the laugh crescendoed into a fully fledged mirth of a maniac.


    Sudden realization hit her. She stood in the middle of a surgical suite - her surgical suite - covered in blood, and there was a mangled corpse of a historian on the ground. A strange device was attached to her body. Projector tore her clothes to shreds as it tried and attached itself to her body. The room was destroyed, walls were burnt, tables overturned, vials of various medical and sterilizing agents broken, slowly steaming puddles formed on the ground.


    ¡°This is bad.¡± She told herself loudly. If anybody saw her in this state¡­ she couldn¡¯t even think of how she would explain herself. And the projector¡­ How the hell would she explain that?


    She couldn¡¯t leave. This was a crime scene, a murder scene. If anybody saw this, they would blame her. She would be hunted, tried, and in the best case - imprisoned.


    A knock on the door disturbed her thinking. Her heart in her throat, she looked at the door.


    ¡°Medic, is everything alright?¡± Familiar voice came to her through the door. One of the students. He must have heard the commotion. An idea sprouted in her mind.


    ¡°No.¡± Auria shouted loudly. ¡°Whatever you do, do not enter. Listen to me carefully. I¡¯ve had a patient here. His body¡­ he was infected with a new disease. We fought, we struggled. Everything in the room is contaminated. The patient is dead. The room needs to be sterilized, parts of it need to be burned down. Now, listen carefully, and get someone to bring me what I need. But, most importantly, do not enter the room, and forbid anyone to enter the room. Got it?¡±


    Student¡¯s voice became panicked, but Auria almost saw through the door how he nodded. ¡°Y-yes, medic. Wh-what do you need?¡±


    Auria exhaled slowly. So far so good¡­she thought.


    ***


    Nothing happened. Naira inserted the prism into the gauntlet, and nothing happened.


    ¡°Might be broken.¡± She muttered.


    ¡°Not what we came in here for, anyways.¡± Harian sighed. ¡°We should find¡­ something. Notes, books, whatever that would have any description of that arm-thing inside.


    ¡°Or another arm thing¡­¡± Naira pulled a long device from another artifact pile. It was almost the exact copy of the metallic arm that was sticking out of Lakar, but it was broken in half.


    As she pulled it out, the pile with artifacts shifted and fell to the ground. Loud ringing and clanging noise filled their ears.


    ¡°Good job.¡± Harian laughed.


    Naira growled. ¡°Not my fault that whoever brought these things in here just piled them atop one another like old scrap metal. Hey, a second gauntlet¡­¡± She grabbed another - left - gauntlet from the pile that formed on the ground, and put it on. ¡°Maybe they work in pairs¡­¡±


    ¡°Forget about the gauntlets, mechanic!¡± Harian¡¯s voice was dangerously sharp. ¡°We came here for something else. You said that you had an idea about what most of these things are for.¡±


    ¡°They are weapons.¡± She said nonchalantly. ¡°At least, most of them. All of them, probably. The archaeologists must have opened a long forgotten armory.¡±


    ¡°Why would you think so?¡±


    ¡°Look at them all. There are either blades on those things, or hooks, teeth, claws, whatever you would call it. Objects that would easily pierce the body, skin, leather, metal, armor.¡± She reached for an ¡°L¡± shaped device close to her and threw it at Harian.  ¡°A pistol, obviously. Here, a trigger, a barrel. And behind you, on the table, those small things shaped like a pear? My guess? Thrown bombs. And these?¡± She raised her hands and looked at the gauntlets. Multitude of small tubes and wires ran down the  black, leather fingers, up to her metal encased wrists. ¡°No idea. But they don¡¯t seem to be made for surgery, gardening, or even metal forging. But most importantly? There is nothing in here that would give us a lead on that¡­ metal arm. No writing, no manuals, nothing. And do you know why, soldier?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not dumb, mechanic.¡± Salt in his voice could almost be tasted in the air. ¡°If it was armory, it was meant for people that would know how to handle these things. Description of what they are, and how they are used, would be unnecessary.¡±


    Naira nodded. ¡°Imagine if these artifacts would fall into the wrong¡­ hands.¡± Her lip twitched as she still examined the gauntlets. I should put them down maybe¡­


    ¡°You want to help the historian, soldier? Grab some of these things in here. Help me, take them to my workshop. I will analyze them, find out how they work. Then, and only then, when I understand these things completely, only then will we be able to help your friend.¡±


    ¡°Steal from here? Are you insane, mechanic?¡± Harian exclaimed.


    ¡°Possibly.¡± She nodded. ¡°Steal from who? To whom does this belong to? A long dead, long forgotten soldier that died long ago in some distant war?¡± She spread her arms wide. ¡°Look at it all! Do you think that this room is the only room in the Citadel filled with ancient technology? This repository is designated what, 17-2? Building seventeen, room two? Out of how many?¡±


    She came close to him and pushed her gloved finger against the soldier¡¯s chest. ¡°You¡¯ve got a choice. Leave this all here. Send another historian in here, make another historian die needlessly because he will fiddle with things he doesn¡¯t even begin to understand, just for it to be written down in a log book, and that logbook will be put away to be covered in dust and eaten by papermites. Or grab something, help me study it, and we might be able to save your friend.¡±


    ***


    Bright white hood covered her head and her long, now blood-stained hair was tucked underneath her clothes. It was impossible to walk unnoticed, not through the crowded streets of Citadel market, but nobody paid her any attention - she was one of hundreds.


    Tall, broad shouldered bearded man bumped into her. ¡°Watch your step, hag.¡± He growled. She glared at his back from underneath her hood. Rot from the inside you rude rat¡­ she thought.


    Through side streets and alleys, she neared the workshop. Barely anybody knew of this place - even she wasn¡¯t supposed to know of it - and therefore, it made for a perfect hiding place. She tried to open the door, but the lock was too strong. A few drops of oily, black substance melted the metal away, and she entered.


    She sat on the ground, underneath the window so that she wouldn¡¯t be seen from the outside, and waited.


    ***


    Gon bumped into an old, half-bent hag. His irritated mood did not need to be pushed more for him to bark out at her to watch her step. He was supposed to leave Citadel rich, with bags full of gold - instead, his cargo was confiscated as potentially dangerous, and h e had to wait for at least a week before it could be returned to him.


    ¡°Thefuck is dangerous about silk¡­¡± He muttered and spat on the ground. He saw his spit, green as a marsh algae, leave his mouth and splash on the ground. ¡°What the¡­¡± he shouted, and a wave of nausea hit him. Gon fell on his knees, and streams of green-and-black bile started to spray out of his mouth.

 Chapter 8 - We, the righteous

    ¡°There weren¡¯t any conflicts. Why?¡±


    ¡°What do you mean?¡± Iarvahr asked him, uncertain.


    ¡°Your story. One bit doesn¡¯t make sense to me - joint expedition of Glaeria and Citadel, and then a conflict - a violent conflict - between Glaeria, and us. Dead people. But there were no larger conflicts between our nations, no vendetta? Did the Triarchy and the holy cunt come to an agreement, or what happened?¡±


    Iarvahr sighed. ¡°The Triarchy doesn¡¯t know what exactly happened. To them, the expedition ended catastrophically with plenty dead, and one survivor that won''t speak of what happened.¡±


    Suranihr stopped in his tracks so suddenly that the artifacts in his backpack clanged together. ¡°You¡¯re not serious. The Triarchy doesn¡¯t know?¡±


    ***


    Triarch Argyl Hanur did not relish in his current work. For the last ten minutes, he was looking at the pile of papers stacked atop one another on his large table made of dark wood. He couldn¡¯t bring himself to take them in his hands, read through them, and do all the bureaucratic bullshit he was supposed to do with them. He wasn¡¯t a politician, he wasn¡¯t a bureaucrat, and he wasn¡¯t a diplomat. But for some reason, unknown to him, the public voting designated him as the new triarch instead of the late Tira Gluun.


    He struggled with it, and he had no idea how other two triarchs thrived on their posts. He was a man of invention, a man of technology. His life was dedicated to metal, oil and steam, not paper and diplomacy.


    ¡°You look terrible.¡± Triarch Ceryna Gordi walked into his workroom unannounced. Her chestnut colored hair, fashioned into a number of small, finger-thin braids, made her look much younger than she actually was. Combined with her ample bosom covered by a  tight, gray blouse and dark brown breeches running down her legs, she was a sight to behold. Oh, and the boots¡­ How Argyl loved the look of her knee high boots with high heels¡­


    He had to admit that she was right. Large, dark rings under his eyes, combined with his long unbrushed black hair really couldn''t  be thought of as fashionable. Same went for his black mechanic coat. It was a piece of useful leather clothing that offered protection from machine oil and, at least to a degree,  fire and steam, but it really wasn¡¯t the hit of the current style.


    ¡°Look at this pile of shit I have to sieve through. Scout reports, army movements, calls for¡­ I don¡¯t know what. What am I supposed to do?¡±


    She chuckled and sat in the chair in front of his desk. ¡°You are supposed to read through them, and come up with a response, or with some solution.¡±


    ¡°No, Ceryna. I am supposed to have my hands covered by metal filings, oil, and dirt. Not ink and drying sand.¡±


    ¡°Stop it already and grow up, Argyl. You do this every week. You let the reports pile up in front of you, you are disgusted by them, you refuse to do what you were chosen to do¡­ But eventually, you do it. Quickly and efficiently. So just do it.¡±


    He sighed and leaned to grab the first document from the pile. ¡°You¡¯re right.¡±


    She laughed. ¡°Always.¡±


    He opened the first document. ¡°You¡¯re welcome to help.¡±


    She chuckled, grabbed the second document, and started to read loudly. ¡°Scout L. Jaren, reporting from north Kryota. The Whispers started to gather in large numbers. So far, no aggression from their side was observed. Kryota doesn¡¯t request any military help. Medical help and supplies are, however, very welcome. I enclose a list of needed equipment. I request trained personnel to arrive with the equipment.¡± She put the document aside. ¡°I¡¯ll send the document to the logistics officer. Of course, we will send them whatever they require. If you permit, Triarch of war. ¡±


    Argyl did not listen to her. His eyes were buried in the document he read,his face pale, drained of blood. ¡°What¡¯s wrong, Argyl?¡±


    He read aloud. ¡®To High Triarchy of the Citadel. Glaerian borders are closed to any and every subject of the Lands of the Citadel. The trade between the Holy Glaeria and your faithless country is forbidden. All subjects of the Lands of the Citadel, that are currently located on our holy soil, are taken as prisoners of war. Your appeals for their release are not welcome. They will answer for the crimes of your nation, of your people. For far too long, we have suffered your heresy and your lack of faith. Expect no mercy from us, nor from our god. Signed, His Holiness, Victon Pios.¡¯


    Ceryna ripped the letter from his hands and read through it quickly. In the faintest voice, she said the words that would haunt her for the rest of her life. ¡°This is a declaration of war.¡±


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    He shook his head in thought. ¡°You do not declare war, Ceryna. You start it. You send your armies, attack before the enemy can muster their defenses. You don¡¯t announce your intentions.¡±


    She was visibly confused. ¡°I don¡¯t understand then, why would they send this letter?¡±


    He did not answer. Instead, he shuffled through the remaining papers. ¡°Look here. Malorea, ending the trade relations with us. And here, the same message comes from Antigan, but¡­  Remind me, Ceryna, who rules in Malorea?¡±


    ¡°High lord Heers.¡±


    ¡°Yet this was signed by high lord Xanwryn, not high lord Heers.¡±


    ***


    ¡°How much longer do you want to stay under their thumb? How much longer are you willing to suffer their tyranny?¡°


    ¡°Tyranny?¡± High Lord Heers straightened and crossed his arms on his breasts. ¡°What tyranny would that be? The medicine that they sent to Malorea to battle the plagues and fevers of our common folk? Or their architects and engineers and mechanics, who rebuilt our war-torn cities and lands to their former glory? What tyranny would that be, Victon?¡± He almost spat out the name of the Glaerian holy ruler.


    One of the golden-cloaked Iseeth drew his sword. ¡°Do not dare to address his holiness with such arrogance you blasphemous swine!¡±


    ¡°Shut your mouth and put away that excuse for a weapon you hold.¡± Heers spat on the floor in front of the warrior. ¡°And you, Victon. Answer.¡±


    ¡°My honor-guard is right, High Lord Heers. You could use some¡­ piety in your words. It is Malorea that is the vassal of Glaeria, not the other way around.¡±


    Heers laughed heartily. ¡°You know, Victon, I have been thinking about that a lot recently. Why exactly is Malorea your vassal?¡± He grabbed the goblet of wine from the large wooden table with carved, gold-inlaid leaf ornaments. He drank a mouthful before he continued. ¡°Your protection? From whom, exactly?¡±


    Victon answered calmly. ¡°From the heresy. From the eternal torment that awaits you after you are laid to rest, eight feet under the ground.¡± A smirk blinked across his face. ¡°From us.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not planning to die anytime soon. But I¡­¡± His words ended in a violent cough, his face turned red. ¡°I¡­¡± Heers looked at the wine cup in his hand. ¡°Pois¡­¡± He fell on his knees, coughing violently, drooling foam and saliva. He tried to raise his shaking hand to point at his own companions, but to no avail. His eyes turned to Lord Xanwryn, his personal advisor. His closest confidant. His friend.


    Xanwryn smiled at dying Heers. ¡°I believe that this seals our deal, your holiness.¡± He turned his head towards Victon, and bowed deeply. ¡°Malorea stands behind you. Malorea stands behind Glaeria.¡±


    ¡°As do we.¡± Queen Anaid said softly. Xanwryn shifted his eyes towards the Antigan queen. Her chubby, well endowed figure sitting comfortably in a large chair with heeled feet stretched and put atop one of the kneeling servants made his manhood almost instantly erect with desire.


    Victon Pios, holy ruler of Glaeria, smiled. He looked at Heers shivering on the ground, his breath sounding as sand falling through hourglass. ¡°Dispose of him.¡±


    ***


    Triarch Argyl drank a small cup of strong alcohol distilled from a mixture of apples and apricots. ¡°Something is coming. Something will happen, soon. We need to get ready.¡±


    Ceryna was visibly upset and frightened. ¡°Ready how?¡±


    ¡°Supplies. Food, medicine, weaponry and armor. Arrows, bullets, gunpowder.¡± He raised his eyes and met Ceryna¡¯s. ¡°Ready for war.¡±


    ¡°We shouldn¡¯t panic. This letter¡­ it¡¯s written strangely.¡±


    Argyl turned to the third Triarch. ¡°Strangely how, Jerlan?¡±


    ¡°Stupidly. The wording. It¡¯s meaning. The paper used, the ink used. It doesn¡¯t seem¡­ Official. And look, a signature of High Lord Xanwryn. I didn¡¯t know that Heers died.¡±


    Argyl looked at Jerlan with confusion radiating from his eyes. ¡°It doesn¡¯t seem official? Jerlan, for fuck¡¯s sake, how would you want it written? On what paper? What are you, an imbecile? And yes, Xanwryn. Obviously, Heers is dead. Heers would not declare war on us!¡± He shouted the last sentence, but Jerlan was unmoved.


    ¡°Of course not. Not while his daughter still studies here. Maybe we can use her as a ransom¡­¡±


    Argyl rolled his eyes. ¡°Why the fuck did Triarch Gluun have to die instead of this senile fool?¡± he asked Ceryna silently, so that the old Triarch did not overhear him. She did not answer that question and instead asked one herself. ¡°If this means war¡­ Do you assume direct command?¡±


    Argyl thought for a minute while Jerlan still muttered something unimportant. ¡°No. But we need a competent Triarch of welfare, or at least someone acting in his stead. A trained medic would be best suited for this task. A medic that lived through a conflict or two.¡±


    ¡°Jerlan is a medic.¡±


    ¡°A senile one.¡±


    Who is on your mind?¡± Ceryna asked.


    ¡°Iarvahr.¡± Replied Argyl without hesitation.


    Ceryna shook her head. ¡°Gone. His daughter however¡­ Talented, well liked, lived through multiple hellish experiences in the world¡­ She was decorated multiple times, as a war hero, as a people¡¯s hero¡­ ¡±


    He stopped her. ¡°I know Auria. No. Although she is an exceptional medic - and a person while we¡¯re at it - I doubt that she would have the guts and the patience for the management of large scale conflict. Logistics, supplies, manpower, papers and transport, numbers¡­ No.¡± He turned towards Ceryna¡¯s assistant. ¡°Get me Larais. Now.¡±


    ***


    It felt like it lasted for a better part of the day, but when they finally found their way out of the tunnels, the sun was still high in the sky. ¡°I can¡¯t believe that we¡¯re finally out.¡± Iarvahr muttered.


    Suranihr just nodded. ¡°I can¡¯t believe that we haven¡¯t encountered a single shriek on our way out.¡±


    Iarvahr looked around them at the amassed fleet. ¡°Maybe one of the things we¡¯ve grabbed from that room somehow repels them.¡±


    Suranihr chuckled dryly. ¡°There isn¡¯t enough strength in me to doubt that, Iarvahr.¡±

 Chapter 9 - Some thoughts should remain hidden

    ¡°You¡¯re familiar.¡± The voice was rather unpleasant. It sounded like two pieces of metal scraping against one another.


    A second voice was dry as a desert wind, and just as warm. ¡°No, she only feels familiar.¡±


    ¡°Compatible¡­ What are you? Are you a living organism? You cannot be. Are you a compatible machine?¡± Third voice sounded just as unnatural as the first two did. She doubted that a human mouth could make that sound. It sent chills down her spine.


    Spine? Where is my spine? Who am I? Where am I?


    ¡°Who are you?¡± Three voices asked Auria at the same time. They repeated the question, again and again, speaking at the same time. ¡°Who are you? Who are you? Who are you?¡±


    Her heart was pounding madly, her head was spinning. She flew through pitch black darkness, with bright stars shining all around her, yet they were too dim and too far away to produce any significant illumination.


    ¡°Who are you?¡±


    She ran through a bright corridor. The walls were made of polished metal, and she could see her reflection in them, as if she ran through a mirror maze.


    ¡°Who are you?¡±


    She flew above the ocean and she saw the Citadel fleet in all its glory, standing still, clustered around a strange island. Few of the ships were burning¡­


    ¡°Who are you?¡±


    A golden-clad army marched through the gates of the city unknown to her, carrying white and gold banners fluttering in the wind.


    ¡°Who are you?¡±


    A four armed humanoid bashed madly with a large, blacksmith¡¯s hammer into a white hot bar of metal. A vivid intelligence of his three, blood-red eyes was hidden underneath the hood that hid his inhuman features.


    ¡°Who are you?¡±


    Thin creatures she knew as Whispers were gliding above the ground like paper sheets carried by the wind, tens, hundreds of them hurrying somewhere, hidden by the snow, hidden by their color-changing bodies, hidden like their deadly, scythelike claws.


    ¡°Who are you?¡±


    Giant wall, marvelous, grandiose, spanning from horizon to horizon. Atop of the wall, lethal things she knew were fire-throwers watched silently, waiting to unleash their burning death towards any uninvited guests. Behind the wall, a wasteland that was once a glorious home to a long dead civilization. Last of them, as twisted as their former home, hiding in the tunnels beneath the wall¡­


    ¡°Who are you?¡±


    She stopped.¡±I am Auria. Who are you?¡±


    The voices in her head began to thrash around like mindless beasts.


    ¡°She spoke to us?¡±


    ¡°She can hear us?¡±


    ¡°Can she hear others?¡±


    ¡°Can you hear me? Can you hear me? Can you heAR ME? cAn yOU HEar ME?¡±


    More and more voices joined in the cacophony of screams she heard inside her mind. ¡°YES!¡± She screamed. ¡°I can hear you all! Who are you?¡±


    ¡°We¡­¡±


    ¡°Are¡­¡±


    ¡°The¡­¡±


    ¡°Dead.¡±


    ***


    ¡°Wake up, Auria.¡± Naira shook her shoulder and Auria woke up, startled. She looked around, trying to remember where she was when she fell asleep.


    ¡°Why are you here?¡± Naira asked her with a cold voice. Auria sighed, but instead of answering her, she started to cry. A memory of a dead historian rushed into her head, along with all that happened in the short moments of his demise. ¡°Something bad happened, Naira.¡± she whimpered softly. ¡°The historian is dead.¡±


    ¡°What? How?¡± Harian cried out. ¡°What happened, medic?¡±


    Auria looked at him. A loud tearing of fabric could be heard, and a projector rose from her back, aimed directly at the soldier. ¡°Me. That¡¯s what happened.¡± she muttered weakly.


    ***


    She told them all that happened in the surgical suite, but nothing more. It felt wrong to talk about the projector as if it was a living thing, or to even think that way.


    They didn¡¯t speak. They sat on the ground, quietly thinking, their faces blank, stunned and unable to respond in any way. After a while, Naira disappeared underground without a word, leaving the soldier and Auria alone.


    ¡°First time?¡± He tried not to look at the torn fabric of her clothes or the pale uncovered skin beneath them. Thankfully, the projector was resting, curled on her back.


    She looked at him with uncertainty. ¡°First time for what?¡±


    ¡°Killing someone.¡±


    ¡°Ah, that. No, not at all. I¡¯ve seen my share of blood.¡±


    ¡°Really? So young?¡±


    She nodded. ¡°When the cities crumble beneath the weight of spreading plague or famine, looters, pillagers and inhuman swines thrive. I¡¯ve seen it in Antigan, Kryota¡­¡±


    ¡°Kryota? They sent you there? To do what, fight against the famed whispers? I don¡¯t recall any other event in Kryota¡­¡±


    ¡°I healed.¡± She stopped him. ¡°And I dissected. And yes, when a Kryotan soldier controlled by a Whisper walked into our tent, I fought them. And I killed them.¡±


    ¡°Fascinating! I always wondered what exactly Whispers are¡­¡±


    She laughed bitterly. ¡°That¡¯s what you find fascinating? They are parasites. They latch onto you, enveloping you in their thin, sheet-like body, like a warm blanket¡­ Their scythe-like claws are hollow and when they rip into you, they inject you with a substance that butchers your nervous system. At the same time, it allows them to control you like a puppet.¡±


    Harian exhaled. ¡°Fuck me. How did you kill it?¡±


    She shrugged and grabbed a glass vial filled with oily, black substance out of her pouch. ¡°We use this to sterilize our tools. It eats away the flesh and blood rather quickly and violently, but it doesn¡¯t touch the metal parts of our tools. I threw the vial at it.¡±


    He chuckled. ¡°Remind me never to get on your bad side, medic.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re safe, soldier. What did you bring from the repository?¡±


    ¡°I¡­ don¡¯t really know. Things that seemed similar to what¡¯s sticking out of your body. Naira thought that it might help her understand it, or how to remove it, or control it.¡±


    ¡°It feels like a new limb. I feel what it touches, I move it however I want but¡­ It¡¯s almost like it has a mind of its own. Before you came, I fell asleep for a while and I think that it tried to talk to me. Your friend, the historian, also mentioned that it talked to him. It said to him that it¡¯s called a projector.¡±


    Harian nodded. ¡°Does it¡­ Hurt?¡±


    She shook her head. ¡°Not even slightly.¡±


    ¡°Did you¡­ use it? Did you burn something?¡±


    ¡°I tried to. You know, to find out how to use it, how to control it. But it doesn¡¯t want to burn. I feel like it wants to spread instead.¡±


    He raised his eyebrows. ¡°It ¡­  It wants to spread? Like, from you to other people?¡±


    She shook her head again. ¡°No, more like¡­ it wants to spread something.¡±


    ***


    Gon was wheezing and coughing. He felt his life drain away from his body, along with his bodily fluids and loads of thick, blackish phlegm and pus that was constantly coming from his mouth and nose. He was shaking in violent fever, his body moving in involuntary, violent spasms. His teeth fell out, one by one, crumbling like pieces of old, dry bread. His nails followed them soon after, along with all the hair and large flakes of skin. He felt millions of tiny worms eating away on his body from the inside, their bodies curling around his tendons, gnawing on them with their tiny teeth...


    Stolen story; please report.


    The last thing he saw in his life was the shiny, long blade of a silver dagger that Larais pushed against his skull. The death was a sweet relief for him.


    Larais turned to other medics. ¡°Burn his body and all traces of it wherever you can find them. And let¡¯s just hope that whatever killed him is not as infectious as it is lethal. Did anybody touch him? Sterilize yourselves, and take a double dose of prevention medications. First sign you¡¯re not alright, isolate yourselves. And close down this alley. No one enters.¡±


    ¡°Yes, grand medic.¡±


    ¡°Lady Larais, we need to hurry.¡±


    Larais turned her head towards the Triarch¡¯s assistant. ¡°Oh, do we? Well then, we are very lucky that I¡¯ve ended his misery so quickly. Imagine, if I tried to treat him, oh, he might¡¯ve lived, but at what cost¡­ we would be late, and we are in a hurry.¡±


    The assistant left her mouth gaping. ¡°You¡­ you killed him because we¡¯re in a hurry?¡±


    ¡°How can someone so mind numbingly stupid as you be an assistant to a Triarch. What, you lick Ceryna clean under the table every now and then? Move your dumb little feet. Run you hussy, I know the way.¡±


    ***


    ¡°You didn¡¯t burn down my workshop, or us. You¡¯re not in pain, you¡¯re not violent. It doesn¡¯t seem to control you. It doesn¡¯t seem to drain life out of you, as it did with¡­ What was his name again?¡± Naira turned her head towards Harian.


    ¡°Lakar.¡±


    ¡°Him. I¡¯ve had these gloves on for the past hour. They did nothing to me.¡± She scratched her head in thought. ¡°It seems safe. But it''s not, as we¡¯ve seen.¡±


    Auria took the word. ¡°If I may¡­ When it spoke to me, it said something about me being compatible¡­ mechanism?¡±


    Harian was shocked that the projector spoke to Auria, but Naira took it in as a normal thing and just nodded slowly. ¡°If the projector¡­ if it communicates, as you¡¯ve said¡­ It might think of you as just another machine, the one it¡¯s been integrated with. What astounds me, however, ist that it entered your body right through the scars on your back. Auria, have you ever seen this device before? In your dreams?¡±


    ¡°No I¡­ No. But I admit, it seems familiar. With the projector, I feel¡­ complete. The void in my mind is gone, and for now, the constant headaches I felt are¡­ gone.¡±


    ¡°Perhaps by chance, you¡¯ve uncovered a piece of your past. And I might have another clue for you.¡± Naira handed over a small, U-shaped metallic object to Auria. ¡°What¡¯s this?¡±


    ¡°Doesn¡¯t matter. See the markings on it? See the symbol?¡±


    Auria looked closer. Hardly visible on the black background, there was a worn symbol of a bird¡¯s head beneath three stars etched into the metallic object. ¡°Raven?¡±


    Naira looked at them both. ¡°Did any of you bother to study the history of our world?¡±


    Auria shook her head. Naira rolled her eyes. ¡°The same symbol is reported to be painted above the red gate.¡±


    Auria did not understand. ¡°The red gate, as in¡­¡±


    ¡°As in the wall of Bashen, yes. You must have heard of the wall.¡±


    Auria nodded slowly. I might have even seen the wall¡­ she thought to herself. ¡°So that¡¯s where these things come from? The long dead civilization of Bashen?¡±


    Harian interjected. ¡°These artifacts were found beneath the Citadel, weren¡¯t they?


    Naira exhaled slowly. ¡°The tunnels beneath the Citadel are vast. Most of them are collapsed, or closed by impenetrable gates of metal. Who knows how far those tunnels reach.¡±


    Harian chuckled. ¡°Surely they¡¯re not running through half of the continent.¡± His mirth faded when he saw Naira¡¯s thoughtful face. ¡°You think they might?¡±


    Naira nodded. ¡°I think they might.¡± Naira raised her hands, looking thoughtfully at the gauntlets. ¡°I know they might.¡±


    ¡°Do they speak to you?¡± Auria whispered. Naira narrowed her eyes. ¡°No. At least, not yet.¡± She sighed, and started to pull the gauntlets off of her. They did not move an inch. She felt like pulling her own skin and not the hard surface of metallic carapace that covered the knuckles of her fingers. ¡°Oh. Oh, fuck.¡±


    Panic crept into her and Auria¡¯s faces. The tense atmosphere around them broke down with the sound of Harian¡¯s loud laughter.


    ¡°What is so funny, soldier?¡± Auria growled.


    ¡°You two¡­ you should be smart. Well studied, well accomplished mechanic and medic, coming from the smartest place in the known world. Yet both of you ended up with foreign, unknown and potentially lethal devices attached to your bodies. A metal arm that speaks to you.¡± He pointed towards Auria. ¡°And a pair of fucking gloves that you can¡¯t pull off.¡± He laughed loudly and heartily. ¡°What the fuck have I gotten myself into?¡±


    Auria heard something strange in the sound of his laughter. A faint sound that reminded her of a lung-burn victim, or the gargling of a dying man that was choking on his own blood. It was faint, but it was there.


    Worse, she felt it. Not in her lungs or throat, she felt it in the projector, as if there was a direct connection between her new limb and the sickness inside the soldier. She shivered.


    ¡°I think we need to go to Bashen. We need to remove these¡­ things from our bodies.¡± she said with a shaky voice.


    ¡°And what help would the long dead land of Bashen be to us?¡± Naira snorted.


    Auria shrugged. ¡°Someone might live there.¡±


    ¡°No one lives there.¡± Harian put his hand on Auria¡¯s shoulder. ¡°It¡¯s a dead land.¡±


    An anger fuelled by her fear lashed out of her. ¡°Were you there? Was anybody you know there? Ever? The fire-spitting machines atop the wall still work, don¡¯t they? And even I know that every machine needs maintenance. That means, someone has to maintain them! Someone must be alive there, and that person might help us.¡±


    ¡°How do you know about fire spitting machines, Auria?¡± Naira asked. Auria turned her gaze away. ¡°That doesn¡¯t matter.¡±


    ***


    ¡°A war.¡± Larais said clearly, without a hint of fear or doubt in her voice. ¡°Glaeria, Malorea and Antigan against the Citadel. And you want me to coordinate the logistics, field hospitals, rationing of food, water and medicine, ammunition. To distribute the workload, to designate¡­¡±


    Argyl cut her short. ¡±Yes, Larais. I want you to act as a Triarch in the upcoming months.¡±


    She looked him directly in his eyes. ¡°Wars can last years.¡±


    ¡°Or days, if you refuse, and Jerlan remains the acting Triarch.¡±


    She raised an eyebrow. ¡°Jerlan still is the Triarch.¡±


    Argyl leaned closer to her, returning her piercing gaze. ¡°Accept it, and he will suddenly become ill, unable to perform his duties. As an act of emergency, you will be officially named acting Triarch, until the proper elections can be held. Until this whole trade embargo and heresy blaming is dealt with.¡±


    Her lips twisted in disgust. ¡°You would poison him?¡±


    ¡°I would send him to a farm somewhere away where he can live his last years peacefully. For fucks sake, Larais, he doesn¡¯t know who Ceryna is, or who I am! And all his work is being done by his assistants.¡± He straightened his back, never letting his sight off of Larais.  ¡°We need control. We need you. And if poisoning him would mean that you would accept, I wouldn¡¯t hesitate.¡±


    She shook her head. ¡°I don¡¯t want to be a Triarch.¡±


    Argyl laughed. ¡°I don¡¯t want it either. You know who wanted to rule his people? Fat fuck by the name of Victon Pios. You know who didn¡¯t want to rule his people? High Lord Heers of Malorea. One of them is probably dead for doing the right thing. The other one started this war.¡±


    Larais sighed. ¡°Your point being?¡±


    ¡°I don''t need you to want to become a Triarch. I need you to become a Triarch.¡±


    She walked a few steps away from him to lean against the window sill. She looked across the city, marveling in the beauty of thousands of red roofs, wide, paved streets, all interspersed by vibrant green trees. She looked at the wide river running through the city, encircling the hill atop which the Scarlet Citadel - the fortress, the university, the bastion of hope that gave the City of Citadel its name - stood tall.


    ¡°This is bullshit. You want to prepare for war that was actually declared officially. There is only one reason why that fat golden bastard would declare a war.¡±


    ¡°What are you thinking, Larais?¡±


    ¡°They plan something¡­ Something they can blame on us. So that they will be seen as victims in the eyes of people from Rooskuria, Kryota, Ladrurg¡­ Common people don¡¯t want war. Common people love us.¡±


    Argyl raised an eyebrow. ¡°They do?¡±


    ¡°When a medic from Citadel comes to a village, a huge feast is usually prepared. The medic is seen as a miracle, as a cure to all the ailments of the village - which, of course, he usually is. Same with mechanics that repair everything, or our builders, traders, teachers, performers¡­ People love us, Argyl.¡±


    Argyl closed his eyes and leaned his aching head against the cold wall. ¡°I see your point. They need to turn the common folk against us, so that not just their armies, but entire towns and villages will howl for our blood.¡±


    Larais nodded. ¡°Yes. I expect reports to come soon, of some heinous crimes from Glaeria, Malorea and Antigan, and I expect these crimes to be somehow attributed to us.¡±


    ***


    He woke up lying among the rotting corpses. The stench was overpowering and had he had the slightest sliver of strength left in him, he would vomit his insides out.


    Keeping his eyes open required all his willpower. Breathing was painful, but he could breathe - not what he expected after being poisoned by that son of a rotten cunt Victon. And Xanwryn¡­ the betrayal of his closest friend hurt more than his own poisoned body.


    Heers tried to turn around, but he had no control over his body. He tried to make a sound, to alarm somebody, anybody close by, but instead of a cry for help, only a muffled ¡°Hnnng¡± left his mouth.


    Although he couldn¡¯t move, he felt everything. He felt worms, bugs and flies crawl over his body, he felt the fuzzy bodies of rats squeezing themselves through the narrow breeches he wore, clawing and biting their way through the fabric along his thighs, occasionally piercing his skin with a misplaced tooth or claw. Just then and there he realized that he was actually dead, that even if he survived the poison, the small scratches and bites from corpse-eating rats would surely bring him the cruelest of plagues¡­


    ¡°High lord¡¯s clothes among the rags of beggars¡­ You look like a lump of gold buried in a pile of cow¡¯s shit, don¡¯t you think?¡± The voice of Antigan queen Anaid was not the one he expected to hear last before he died.


    ¡°I hope that you will live, Heers. I¡¯ve tried to dilute the poison with as much wine as I could, but your friend Xanwryn could not stop eye-fucking me at every possible occasion. If you hear and understand me, blink. Or move your eyes. Do something.¡±


    He blinked slowly, and Anaid exhaled softly. ¡°Good. Now listen. Well, not that you could do much more, right?¡±


    Two pairs of strong hands grabbed his body and lifted it up from the corpse pile. He was being carried somewhere by a pair of men with bodies and faces covered in torn, filthy rags. Anaid turnt his head sideways so that he could at least see her. Just as the pair of men, she wore the clothes of a beggar, torn and dirty rags that the lowest of the low would not even consider to put on.


    ¡°Heers is dead. Your name is Marias. You are from Antigan, one of my servants¡¯ servants. You became gravely ill and you need to rest. Speak to no one before we meet again. Blink if you understand.¡±


    Blink.


    ¡°Antigan did not betray the pacts we have with Citadel. Victon needs to think that we did, or else we would be crushed by the brass-clad legions. That¡¯s all you need to know about me now - I did not betray. However, I know why your friend betrayed you.¡±


    Heers felt his heart beat faster. He wanted to ask why, but instead of a word, a muffled wheeze came out of his mouth again.


    ¡°Your daughter. You refused him, and sent her to Citadel. That way you took the only chance he would ever have on the Malorean throne away from him. Therefore, he helped Victon to poison you. A courier with a letter will arrive to your daughter, explaining to her that the agents of Citadel have killed you, and that the courier is supposed to help her escape her wardens¡­ silently. Your daughter will fall to Xanwryn¡¯s knees, ready to suck his cock all day long so that he will avenge you in the war against your murderers¡­ The common folk will flock behind him - after all, they loved you. And so ends the Heers dynasty.¡±


    The pair of men loaded his paralyzed body on the wooden carriage. ¡°We will meet again, Marias. Rest. Heal. And do not speak to anyone. Now, I am going to play dumb, spoiled whore of a queen for Victon¡¯s and Xanwryn¡¯s pleasure. Until we meet again, Marias.¡±

 Chapter 10 - A nightmare and a broken pact

    He walked through a tunnel. There was no torch, no lantern, no source of light, yet he saw the hole ridden walls as clearly as the water trickling between his legs. He felt as if his bronze-colored armor shone brightly, only to realize that he wasn¡¯t wearing it.


    Instead of his trusted axe, he held the long, multi-jointed metal limb they found in the depths of floating island.


    He followed the tunnel for a minute, an hour, a day, a week. He lost track of time, alone in the endless tunnel, perhaps walking in circles. He looked at the object in his hands, and he felt it looking back, staring right into his soul. Suddenly, he wanted to tear his own arm away, to replace it with the metal one. After a few painless tugs, he tore his hand away and instead of it, the tendrils of long, unnatural limb bore into his bone and flesh.


    ¡°Good... It feels so good...¡± He murmured for himself. It indeed felt as an ecstasy, the pure pleasure mixed with just the right amount of pain jerked his whole body again and again. He spasmed in a sweet agony as he felt finally complete¡­


    Shrieks circled around him, humming in soft tones that vibrated through him, escalating the pleasure and pain until it climaxed, a crescendo of insanity.


    The world turned black, yet he still saw them. The shrieks turned to disfigured humans, screaming in pain, crying for help, torment tearing them apart and stitching them back together using his own hands. They begged him, screamed at him, silver tears ran down their twisted cheeks, their long nails buried themselves into their own faces. They bit their own fingers off, chewing them as a malnourished child chews on the piece of stale bread.


    Help us, help us, help us, Help Us, Help US, HELP US, HELPUS, HELPUSHELPUSHELPUS....


    Billion voices filled his mind, all screaming for help. All begging for help.


    The pleasure he felt turned into a sour feeling of disgust, the pain he felt never left, just intensified. He tugged on the metal arm to tear it away from his body, but to no avail. It held there, firmly...


    Help us. Help us. Help us.


    It lasted a week, a day, a month. Each time, a new voice spoke those words. He even felt as if he should know those voices, but they remained just behind the edge of his mind...


    All of them, but one.


    ¡°Help me.¡±


    He knew that voice. He heard it each time he closed his eyes, each time he was left alone. He saw her face in his dreams, smiling, with love shining from her eyes... Those were the dreams he didn¡¯t want to wake up from, followed by mornings that tore his soul apart.


    ¡°Leonie...¡± He whimpered. He found himself kneeling on a broken glass, the tendons in his knees cut through and through, bleeding painlessly. ¡°Leonie...¡± He whimpered again, and the darkness around him shook.


    ¡°Help me, Iarvahr. It... It hurts so much.¡±


    ¡°How? Where are you, Leonie? Where are you, my love?¡± He cried, he screamed, yet he never opened his mouth. She was there, just behind the curtain of darkness. He crawled towards her through the broken glass, cutting his skin to shreds with each movement.


    ¡°Where am I?¡± Her pain turned to anger. A strong slap on his cheek hurled him across the darkness. ¡°Where you put me! You killed me, Iarvahr!¡±


    ¡°You... You begged me to do it... You were in pain.¡±


    ¡°You know nothing of pain!¡± The misery and anguish of her scream echoed through his consciousness, shattering the last barriers of his sanity. Finally, Iarvahr was completely broken.


    The world fell silent, save for his sobs. He looked around, but he could see nothing in the void around him. ¡°Leonie...¡± he whispered.


    She stood in front of him, with a long, bleeding wound across her throat. Her voice gargled. ¡°Help me, Iarvahr. Get me out of here.¡±


    ¡°Out of where?¡± he screamed, half insane.


    ¡°I¡¯m dead, Iarvahr. But you can bring me back. Only you can bring me back.¡±


    ¡°But how?¡±


    ¡°Wield the arm. Wield the projector. It will show you the way.¡±


    ***


    He found Suranihr atop the watchtower of Luthra, and approached him carefully.


    ¡°You look as bad as I feel.¡± Iarvahr muttered. Suranihr did not laugh at the bad joke, he just nodded slightly.


    ¡°Luthra took the beating heroically, but¡­ to see my ship being towed, unable to sail on her own¡­¡±


    ¡°We¡¯re alive, captain.¡±


    ¡°The crew isn¡¯t.¡±


    Iarvahr leaned against the railing of the watchtower. ¡°Luthra will get patched up at home. Don¡¯t worry.¡±


    ¡°She is just a ship, and a ship can be repaired. I¡¯m not worried about her.¡± Captain let out a long sigh, and locked his eyes with Iarvahr. ¡°This was madness. The enemy came from below, unseen. Unnoticed. Unknown. I¡¯ve spoken a few words with Morro, and as the oldest captain of the fleet, he has never heard of anything even remotely resembling¡­ Shrieks. Nobody has.¡±


    Iarvahr was unsure how to react, his mind still preoccupied by his latest nightmare. ¡°Your point being, captain?¡±


    ¡°We need to adapt. Change. Find a way to scout underwater, as well as above the water. And then¡­¡±


    Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel.


    They were silent for a while, their ears filled only by the blowing wind and splashing of water.


    ¡°I had a dream. I¡¯ve dreamt of Leonie, and of projectors¡­¡±


    ¡°What are projectors?¡± Suranihr asked, puzzled.


    ¡°Those metal arms we took from the tunnels. Leonie called them projectors in the dream. She wants me to save her. Bring her back to life. To wield those arms.¡±


    Suranihr did not laugh at him. ¡°An oddly specific dream. A nightmare brought on by recent emotional fatigue, perhaps. But still, just a dream.¡±


    ¡°Perhaps. But I can¡¯t shake the feeling that it might be more than that.¡±


    ***


    They sailed for a few silent days. None, save a few always cheerful souls and drunk deckhands, had the mood for talking - not after such a quick, terrifying encounter with Shrieks. Several fleet mechanics were transferred to Luthra, both to assess the structural integrity of the ship and to study the projectors and other artifacts that the few surviving scout teams brought from the bowels of the floating island. Iarvahr occasionally accompanied them.


    Wield the arm she said. Wield the projector.


    He tried. He offered himself as a volunteer, to somehow try to wield them under the guidance of fleet mechanics. They tried to activate them, to discover their purpose, to determine their value¡­ But projectors always remained dormant.


    Perhaps something was missing from them. In his recurring dreams, the projectors always shone - a dim light, usually with a soft, warm, blue hue - but in the real world, they remained cold, dark and lifeless.


    Nevertheless, they tried, again and again. And his dreams kept returning, again and again.


    Wield the arm. Wield the projector.


    A week after an encounter with shrieks, the fleet came to a halt. A line of foreign ships under the banner of Malorea covered the distant horizon. On a first glance, they resembled a¡­


    ***


    ¡°Blockade.¡± Morro Lyn growled, looking through a telescope glass. ¡°And a single, small boat heading towards us. Neutral flag. Diplomats.¡±


    ¡°Orders, sir?¡± His first mate Layana asked calmly.


    ¡°Send a message to other ships. We will use Luthra as a negotiation place. Albeit broken, she is still the largest ship from our fleet. The most intimidating. And her captain is calm and sensible.¡±


    ¡°And good looking.¡± Layana muttered.


    ¡°I¡¯ve heard you, first mate. Your opinions regarding the visage of fleet captains are not welcome on my bridge.¡±


    ¡°With all due respect, Captain Lyn, I meant that he looks respectable. Looks matter during negotiations.¡±


    Morro¡¯s answer was silence.


    ***


    Fury stormed inside Suranihr, but he managed to keep a calm face. ¡°As far as I know, you¡¯ve learned how to make gunpowder in your cannons from us. Your steam engines were originally designed by us, same as the ship screws under water that move your ships. Your excuse for a fleet exists thanks to the grace of Triarchy of the Citadel. Thanks to all the long lasting pacts made between Malorea, and us.¡±


    The Malorean delegate made a single nod. ¡°And we thank you for all you have done for our homeland. But the waters that rightfully belong to Malorea are no longer welcoming to your fleet.¡±


    ¡°We could simply ram through your blockade. Shatter your ships.¡± Captain Lyn said coldly.


    The Malorean delegate chuckled. ¡°Yes, and you would surely obliterate our fleet. But, at the same time, you would take a lot of casualties. Your ships would be damaged, many of your sailors would be either injured, or dead. Is it worth it?¡±


    ¡°If I may¡­¡± Iarvahr asked for a word with a raised hand. ¡°You could escort us through your waters, so that our fleet would pose no danger to¡­¡±


    Delegate shut him down. ¡°That will not work. We have to take the question of logistics into consideration - that would cost us dearly, in terms of supplies, fuel for our steam engines, and freshwater. Maybe if you offered us a form of generous compensation¡­¡±


    ¡°You want gold?¡± Suranihr barked. ¡°No. We are done here. Leave my ship, delegate Torvis.¡±


    ¡°Very well then.¡± Torvis nodded. ¡°By the name of High lord Xanwryn, I bid you all a farewell.¡±


    ¡°Xanwryn?¡± Iarvahr muttered, with a confused look focused on the backs of the Malorean delegate and his honor guard.


    ¡°Apparently, there were some changes in Malorean royalty.¡± Morro stated calmly. ¡°That might explain their disdain towards us.¡±


    ***


    They took a detour to the north, away from Malorean blockade, away from the waters close to Malorean shores. Although the question of logistics seemed so important to Delegate Torvis, a full blockade flotilla followed Citadel ships from afar, obviously not minding the waste of fuel and supplies. It lasted for a whole day.


    As the trials with projectors seemed futile, Iarvahr decided to spend an early evening in the watchtower of Luthra. He had to admire the beauty of such a vessel. Thick, riveted armor plating painted red and black, seven multi-purpose ship cannons  - five at the bow of the ship, two at the stern, three slender, coal-smoke spewing chimneys rising from large steel-reinforced building with crew cabins, mess hall, storage, ship hospital and laboratories for mechanics inside of it. Almost everything was adorned by flags of the Citadel - a red drop of blood upon white field. He couldn¡¯t help himself but to admire the ingenuity of Citadel¡¯s ship builders and mechanics. To make such a vast, steel-clad giant be able to float atop the water¡­


    A distant ball of fire caught his eye. He grabbed the closest telescope and tried to focus his sight on the bright theater.


    The Malorean fleet was¡­ exploding. One by one, ships'' hulls burst open, spewing black, thick smoke from wounded hulls. Those that still could have fired salvoes against Shriek behemoth rising out of water amongst the ships


    No¡­ Iarvahr thought. It¡¯s not a single behemoth¡­ two, three, four distinct, hole-ridden islands are rising from the water¡­


    It was only after a few seconds that muffled sounds of distant explosions hit him, followed by a constant, heart-throbbing buzz and hum of Shriek weaponry. He grabbed the bell chain next to him and started ringing the alarm.


    Although the speed with which the fleet mustered was impressive, it was too late for the Malorean fleet. Citadel sailed towards the floating debris of broken ships anyway, spewing highly explosive and fragmentation ammunition from afar, but the islands retreated back under the water before they could be seriously damaged. When the citadel fleet caught up with burning remnants of Malorean blockade, the Shrieks were already gone, yet everyone expected them to re-emerge from the water any second. Luck was on the side of Citadel¡¯s fleet, as the Shrieks did not return.


    Nobody asked what was the point of Citadel¡¯s fleet returning to help their enemy. They were human first and foremost, and perhaps this was a chance to reforge broken alliances, to rekindle flames of cooperation... However, what began as reinforcements for the Malorean fleet ended up as a scavenge run for the Citadel.


    Even though the Citadel¡¯s fleet looked for survivors, everything was covered by thick smoke from burning, floating wreckage and a single row boat had escaped them unnoticed. Three Malorean survivors were rowing for their lives, away from the demons from the Citadel. To them, there was only one explanation for what had happened - Citadel¡¯s fleet had been denied passage and therefore, they had destroyed Malorean ships with some new, unknown weapons, only to then gather spoils of war from wrecked ships. This was the story they were going to report to anyone willing to listen, if only they could make it to the shore¡­


    Eyeless beasts from the depths pulled them underwater without a sound before they rowed a league away from the wreckage. The last thing they felt was the stinging of seawater in their fang-made wounds, as they were being eaten alive.

 Chapter 11 - Draining

    ¡°We need to think this through, it¡¯s not possible to just stand up and leave without a trace. We need supplies, a mode of transportation. A replacement is needed for me in the hospital. Harian¡­ What do you need to do before leaving?¡±


    Harian chuckled, and coughed slightly. He turned his head towards two women. ¡°I¡¯m leaving with you? We¡¯ve just met. What makes you think that I¡¯d throw my life away?¡±


    ¡°Because you are dying, soldier.¡± Auria said softly. ¡°I hear it in your breathing, the soft rasp and gargle of something in your lungs and bronchi, something that should not be there. I see it in your movements, in the occasional jolts of pain when your joints resist to move as you would want them to move. I feel it all, with the¡­ with this.¡± She waved the metallic arm slightly.


    ¡°That¡¯s interesting, if it is true.¡¯ Naira muttered admiringly towards the projector. Harian deeply inhaled. ¡°She¡¯s right. The breathing, the pain. I¡¯m¡­ dying, you said? You feel it in¡­ that?¡± Harian pointed towards the projector. It was turned towards him, its five fingers spread widely, the circular palm glowing with a soft, blue light. It watched him, or perhaps Auria watched him through it.


    ¡°I do. I feel everything that is wrong with your body. I know what ails you, where exactly your joints hurt, what kind of cancerous growth festers in your lungs, and where exactly¡­ And I also¡­¡± She fell silent, her eyes closed. Only the projector moved in the room, observing Harian from different angles, as if searching for something.


    ¡°You also what, medic?¡± Harian asked impatiently after a few minutes of complete silence.


    ¡°I¡­ I¡¯m not sure. Having this attached to my body feels like having a new sense¡­ or senses, plural. I think I can do¡­ something with it.¡±


    ¡°Burning down my workshop?¡± Naira muttered and Harian chuckled in response. Auria shook her head. ¡°No. I feel like I could remove the cancer from his lungs. With this. With the projector.¡±


    Harian now laughed out loudly. ¡°We¡¯ve seen what that thing can do in your surgical suite. Do not come anywhere¡­¡± He stopped in the middle of the sentence, his laughter turned into rasping and coughing. His face, voice and thoughts turned serious. ¡°You¡¯ve said that I¡¯m dying. How long do I have left?¡±


    Auria threw her arms to the side. ¡°Half a year? A full year? It varies, patient to patient. But from my experience¡­ The longer you can fight the cancer, the longer you will suffer. In the end, death will become a sweet release for you.¡±


    ¡°Is that the thing talking, or the medic?¡± Naira asked with a bitter voice.


    Auria looked her dead in the eyes. ¡°It¡¯s me talking.¡±


    ¡°Are you yourself? Or is the thing controlling you?¡±


    ¡°Spoken like a true friend. Do you doubt me? Really? After all these years? Well then, friend, hear me out. Enough with all the cold bullshit towards me.¡± Auria stepped closer to Naira, and mere inches divided their eyes. ¡°You act like a friend, trying to keep me from pain-numbing narcotics, bringing me to your silly circle of broken people, and I am thankful for everything you do, truly. But, at the same time, you despise me. You wish me dead for saving your life. You wallow and cry, unworthy of surviving the miscarriage, when the acid-bleached bones of your husband lie in the graveyard. Well then, Naira, let your rage and despair out. Do what the Whispers could not do.¡± The projector hovered closely in front of Naira¡¯s right eye, obstructing half of Auria¡¯s face. Whether it was the soft blue light from the metallic arm, or the play of shadows from a few lanterns burning inside the workshop, Naira saw her friend¡¯s face¡­ changed. Older, ruined by shadowy veins creeping towards her eye, her skin not only pale but ivory white.


    ¡°Either pull the trigger on your toy that you press against my belly, or finally fucking admit that your disdain towards me is unjustified, just as your doubts.¡± Naira did not realize that she held the Basilisk until Auria mentioned it. For a second, she was tempted to pull the trigger. A wave of guilt washed over her, droplets of sweat ran down her forehead and she realized that she could not bear the dark, rageful eyes of her friend. Instead of pulling the trigger of Basilisk, she shook her head and whispered an apology.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, Auria.¡±


    Auria nodded, coldly accepting the apology. ¡°Do you know why I think that I could heal him?¡± She held her recently burnt and broken arm high, turning it around, twisting the joints. ¡°It¡¯s healed. Because I wanted it to heal. I focused my will towards the projector and I wished for my arm to heal. Look what happened right now in front of your eyes.¡±


    Naira examined now completely healed arm and nodded quickly, her usual cold mask gone from her face.


    ¡°Do it, medic. Please.¡± Harian said and when Auria turned towards him, he was kneeling before her. ¡°I do not fear a warrior¡¯s death, but dying while coughing out chunks of my own lungs¡­ that terrifies me. Heal me, Auria, and I will follow you to the end of the world.¡±


    As soon as Auria shifted her focus from Naira, the guilt vanished as quickly as it overcame her. Naira realized that somehow, probably with the use of that metal arm, Auria had to alter her perception. Additionally, Naira felt a soft warmth radiating from her gloves. They were doing¡­ something. The projector spoke, and her gauntlets wanted to answer.


    Something in the projector spoke to Auria when she slept. Perhaps something will speak to me also, through the gauntlets. A slight constriction of her gauntlets answered her thoughts as if in agreement, yet she was unsure whether it had really happened, or if it was just her imagination.


    ***


    Auria felt as if desert wind had dried up her insides. Burning sensation ran through her body, emanating from where the projector had embedded itself in her back. She felt tingling in her fingers as she realized that they were becoming numb. Her mouth went dry, her eyes started to hurt, tears completely gone from them. Is this the price for using projectors? she thought to herself.


    This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.


    ¡°I will try, but I can¡¯t now. It¡¯s¡­ tiring, using the projector.¡±


    ¡°Tiring how?¡± Naira asked.


    ¡°I feel¡­ dried up. I feel¡­ hungry.  Drained. I need to¡­ to feed.¡± She whispered the last word, realizing too late that it sounded perhaps too similar to what the young historian said before he tried to kill her.


    ¡°You need what?¡± Harian asked her.


    ¡°To eat.¡± Auria said with a weak voice. ¡°But first, I need to cover the projector arm somehow. Naira, do you have¡­¡± Her vision spun around and she lost her balance, but Naira caught her before she hit the ground.


    ***


    ¡°Feed¡­¡±


    Auria looked around, but other than deep, oily darkness, there was nothing.


    ¡°Feed¡­¡±


    The voice resonated everywhere around her. No, not one voice¡­ she realized. Voices. Two, ten, twenty, a hundred.


    ¡°Feed¡­ FEED¡­ Feed¡­¡±


    She kept spinning around, trying to see at least something other than pure darkness.


    ¡°Feed. FEED.¡±


    It materialized in front of her - a figure, unknown, unnamed, with an ever shifting face, resembling nobody she knew, until¡­


    The faces stopped shifting, and the young historian stared at her from blackness. He opened his mouth, and an inhuman scream came out, tearing her insides apart, piercing her ears, cutting her skin.


    ¡°FEED US. FEED ME. FEED MEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE¡­¡±


    ***


    She woke up, disoriented, unsure of where she was until she saw a familiar face.


    ¡°How long was¡­¡± She coughed, for her tongue was still incredibly dry. Naira offered her water, and she drank the whole pitcher at once.


    ¡°A few minutes. I have sent Harian for some food.¡±


    ¡°Your cold voice is back. That¡¯s¡­ great.¡± Auria said, slightly annoyed.


    ¡°Yes. After you¡¯ve shifted your attention away from me, the guilt I¡¯ve felt is gone. But I agree with you, Auria. You are right. And I truly am sorry for my behavior.¡±


    Auria groaned, as a sharp pain ran pulsed through her whole body.


    ¡°This thing¡­ Are we alone here, Naira? Is the soldier gone?¡±


    Naira nodded. ¡°Completely alone.¡±


    Auria sat up. ¡°I¡¯m¡­ terrified. I have felt what¡¯s inside of him, every part of the cancer. I have also felt the aching of his joints, and what causes it. I feel the same with you. I feel how ravaged your insides are after the miscarriage¡­¡±


    ¡°Stop. I don¡¯t want to know. I¡¯ll bring you more water.¡± Naira took a few steps, but a soft voice from her friend stopped her.


    ¡°Wait, don¡¯t go, please.¡±


    She let out a deep sigh, and sat down next to Auria. ¡°Be calm, Auria. Everything is going to be alright.¡±


    ¡°I know. I just don''t want to be alone with¡­ with the voices.¡±


    ¡°Do you hear them right now?¡±


    ¡°No, but I feel their¡­ hunger. They want me to feed them something. Not food, but¡­ I¡¯m not sure what yet.¡± Auria laid her head softly against Naira¡¯s shoulder. ¡°Healing myself with the projector took a lot more from me than I would have anticipated. Both mentally and physically.¡±


    Naira raised her eyebrows. ¡°Mentally?¡±


    ¡°I have to admit that the anger with which I lashed against you was not me alone. I think the projector might have had some effect on my mind. I¡­ might need your help.¡±


    ¡°You have it.¡±


    ¡°Thank you¡­ just let me know when I start to act strangely. My body needs to adapt to new senses and a new limb, just as my mind does. I wonder which will take longer to adapt.¡±


    They sat silently for a while, and Harian finally brought some food - a baked bread, still hot from the oven, a wedge of ripe cheese along with fresh apples and pears, and a bottle of wine. Auria thanked him with a nod and a smile. They all ate, silent, lost in their own thoughts.


    ¡°Do you believe in souls?¡± Auria asked them in between chewing. Naira said a resolute ¡°No.¡±, but Harian stopped chewing and asked a question of his own.


    ¡°What do you mean by souls?¡±


    ¡°What happens to us when we die?¡±


    ¡°Rot, decomposition, food for plants and animals.¡± Naira states as an obvious matter of fact. Harian nodded approvingly, but Auria asked another question.


    ¡°Alright then, if I die tomorrow, I¡¯m gone, my memories are gone, everything that makes up my mind is gone. So why do I remember?¡±


    Naira did not understand her. ¡°Why do you remember what?¡±


    ¡°Anything. If everything will be gone when I die, so will my memories be gone. So why do I have them? If I die tomorrow, the memories will disappear, and I will not remember, uh, remembering them. But I still remember them. So, if I die now, my memories can¡¯t just disappear. They must go¡­ somewhere. Because I still remember them.¡±


    Harian chuckled. ¡°What the hell, medic? That¡¯s what you mean by soul? A transcendent, non-existing yet existing book of memories?¡±


    ¡°Maybe.¡±


    Naira rolled her eyes. ¡°This is a question for a priest, a philosopher or a drunkard. The better question is, why do you ask this? I know that you do not believe this spiritual nonsense, so why ask this?¡±


    ¡°What if - and don''t laugh immediately after I say this - what if the voices that talk to me through the projector are¡­ What if they are dead people?¡±


    They did not laugh. They stopped mid chew, their bodies tensed up. ¡°What?¡± Harian asked, disbelieving.


    ¡°I saw your friend. The young historian. Lakar. The entity that spoke to me while I was passed out¡­ The faces were constantly changing, and so were the voices. Until they stopped changing, and Lakar was there, standing in front of me.¡±


    ¡°Calm down, Auria. Think rationally. Your mind gave a form to something inside of that¡­ thing. Something that speaks to you. It might not be human at all, did you think of that?¡±


    ¡°I did but¡­ there was another face. A man. He bumped into me on my way here. In my mind, a quick thought flickered about him dying off of an internal rot. At that moment, I felt the projector warm up slightly¡­ Just a little bit. But what if my thoughts actually gave him some disease? And what if he died, and his soul - or his mind or whatever - what if¡­¡±


    ¡°Stop, Auria. Healing yourself has drained you. You have collapsed mere moments ago, dehydrated and tired. By this logic, don¡¯t you think that killing someone would also drain you?¡±


    Harian coughed. ¡°She said¡­ I remember her saying something regarding the metal arm. That it doesn¡¯t want to burn, but to spread¡­ something. To spread disease, perhaps? Maybe it wasn¡¯t made for healing, but for¡­ killing. In a very sick way.¡±


    Whether it was the effect of events of past days, or just a general tiredness of her body and mind, Auria saw some logic in Harian¡¯s words. But the idea of killing someone with just a bare thought¡­ That seemed rather impossible. Then again, healing a broken and burnt hand with a thought channeled through a metallic arm attached to her spine was just a hair short of complete madness.


    ¡°We have to find an answer to this. We must leave for Bashen as soon as possible.¡±


    ¡°May I propose something?¡± Naira asked. ¡°Do not leave the wisest place in the known world for a ruined land behind a strange wall. Not before you ask around the Citadel. Comb through the archives, consult historians, mechanics, and only after you have extinguished all the possible options in here, leave.¡±


    Auria nodded with a smile. ¡°Alright. Whom do you suggest I visit first?¡±

 Chapter 12 - She calls herself Sphinx

    They did not really need to hide. It was a fairly common sight to see people hurrying through the streets of Citadel carrying unusual things - be it their latest inventions, carts full of semi-finished products or heaps of broken stuff that needed to be repaired. A mechanical arm sticking out of her back would really not set Auria that much apart, but they still were careful. She switched her bloodied medic robes for a thick, long leather jacket stained of machine grease that Naira lent her, and the projector has laid comfortably curled up inside a large backpack. Naira was adorned to her usual black attire that fit well with now permanently adorned gauntlets on her hands, and Hairan accompanied them looking no different to countless citadel guards that kept peace on already peaceful streets, wearing padded scarlet uniform.


    To an outsider, the peace kept through the streets of Citadel was a highly extraordinary thing - there  were no beggars, no thieves and cutpurses, no rapists. That is one of the reasons why the Lands of the Citadel seemed almost utopic to scores of foreign travelers and refugees, seeking to start a new, better life. A life full of safety and comfort in the lands where farmers and bakers were as valued as mechanics and guardsmen, and knowledge was something readily available to each person - or so it would seem on the outside.


    After discovering the somewhat darker truth, foreign travelers often turned their carts packed with their livelihood and left back from where they came. True, the crime was almost entirely absent from Lands of the Citadel, but the reason behind that was rather cruel.


    There were no prisons in the Citadel - all those that would be convicts in Malorea, Antigan and even Kryota and Rooskuria were put to a better use in the name of progress. Medics needed test subjects for the study of diseases, medicaments and correct surgical procedures, and alchemists needed to test the newly made potions, poultices, toxins and unnamed experimental liquid and solid substances on living beings, and testing such vileness on innocent animals was, of course, unthinkable. Mechanics, historians and archaeologists always needed new hands for the purpose of excavating old tunnels that ran deep beneath the Citadel, as more often than not, old metal doors and gates were trapped, and tens of unfortunate souls perished yearly due to the effects of acid clouds or liquid fire. The order in the Lands of the Citadel was kept by the citadel guard, but - truth be told - there was not a lot of action going on, as the general population of Citadel adhered to the laws rather strictly.


    As for the availability of the knowledge to everyone regardless of their stature, that was true, although every person with interest to gain knowledge in the halls of the Citadel¡¯s university had to sign up a binding contract. Each person, regardless of their social ranking, had to pledge themselves for up to fifteen years of working under the banners of the Citadel after finishing up their hunt for the knowledge, and it happened only a handful times that anyone was willing to return to their original home after spending almost two decades in the safety and prosperity during their service to the Citadel.


    ¡°Where is it that we are going, Naira?¡± Auria asked after fifteen minutes of walking through cobbled streets.


    ¡°My old mentor. A, hm, former mechanic with particular interest in unearthing the lost knowledge from the tunnels. That is also why both me and Harian carry the backpacks loaded with what we took from the archive.¡±


    ¡°Seems like a reasonable step to take.¡± Harian nodded. ¡°We¡¯re taking these things as a¡­¡±


    ¡°Bribe.¡± Naira answered. ¡°While he often used to work in tandem with historians to analyze new stuff from underground, to have such a collection, all to himself, without a wall of bureaucracy to attend to will be a much too delightful opportunity for him to pass.¡±


    ¡°Your old mentor¡­ Wait.¡± Auria stopped in her tracks. ¡°Your old mentor, as in Argyl Hanur?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡± Naira nodded.


    ¡°The Triarch himself?¡± Harian asked, taken aback. ¡°This doesn¡¯t seem like such a reasonable step anymore.¡±


    ¡°Do not worry. I have thought this through.¡±


    Auria laughed bitterly. ¡°Of course, what is the worst that can happen? Me, ending up locked somewhere while dozens of people try to cut me open and rip the projector from my spine¡­ Ah, what a delightful idea.¡±


    Naira crossed her arms and looked each of them straight into their eyes. ¡°Calm down. First of all, you are too much of an asset to take apart like that.¡± She snapped her fingers to highlight her point. For a second there, she seemed surprised that her gauntleted fingers actually made that sound.


    ¡°Second, We have not done anything wrong.¡±


    ¡°Other than stealing stuff from the archives, you mean.¡± Harian remarked.


    ¡°We have not done anything wrong.¡± She repeated. ¡°We will come as victims of wrongly activated technology. There is already a dead person that was killed by the thing, and therefore we will make our case to be of life-and-death importance. Also, I have to admit - I am surprised that Auria managed to run from the hospital without any questions regarding how the historian died.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s actually a good point. How did you manage that?¡± Harian turned towards the medic. She shrugged. ¡°Honestly? I have no idea. There was too much going on at once, and I don¡¯t remember what I told the staff.¡±


    ¡°Third, and most important point¡­¡± Naira continued ¡°He owes me.¡±


    ¡°He owes you for what exactly?¡± Auria asked as they started to move again. Naira¡¯s right lip twitched in an attempt to smile slightly. ¡°I have done something similar with him already.¡±


    ¡°Similar, as in stealing ancient technology from the archives and telling no one?¡±


    ¡°Exactly.¡±


    ***


    It was a common misconception that Triarchy alone ruled the Citadel. In reality, a council made of members voted by the public was the true ruling organ, with Triarchy acting as their formal leaders - the ones overseeing the acceptance of new laws, the ones speaking publicly on behalf of their respective part of the council. Officially, the Triarchy was merely just a part of a larger governing body - their heads perhaps, but not the unrestricted rulers.


    Unless a crisis came.


    Argyll was just finishing his speech in front of the council, where he told them a full, uncolored recollection of all the correspondence he received in the past few days. ¡°We are on the precipice of catastrophe, and I alone am not sure of how to act. Is it wise to fortify our borders and create a wave of public panic? Or is it wiser to try and negotiate?¡±


    A silence as thick as a tar hung above the assembled council. The news hit them hard.


    ¡°What is the point of their actions?¡± A lone voice sounded from one of the masked council members. Other than Triarchy, all of the council members were hidden from each other behind black veiled hoods to prevent the possible voting bias.


    ¡°Yet unknown. They cannot aim to attack us directly, we are leagues above any known nation in terms of raw military power. They cannot starve us, as our fields, pastures, rivers and sea are able to sustain us indefinitely. Although the end of trade between us and neighboring lands may hit us hard, we still have a large supply of resources at our disposal. We have our own coal mines, so our steam engines will not run out of fuel. All the raw ore and scrap metal that we store can be repurposed for necessary needs. It is them that will suffer bitter consequences from this¡­ step.¡± Argyl answered politely. A murmur arose through the council.


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    ¡°They need us to maintain all the technology that we brought to their lands.¡± Another voice has risen above the murmuring crowd, only to be contradicted by a third masked person. ¡°Perhaps not anymore. Not when they hold our people hostage.¡±


    ¡°What of the prisoner trade?¡± asked a female voice that Argyll could unmistakingly attribute to an alchemist named Peleria.


    ¡°Least of our concerns.¡± Larais, acting Triarch, answered.


    One through the another, questions started to fly from the crowd towards each other, towards Triarchs, towards anyone. Twenty one voices, shouting and bellowing, made Argyll sit down and ponder.


    What is the point of their actions? That was a great question. The declaration of war that is not a declaration by itself. The end of trade agreements¡­ He did not understand any of this. He was a mechanic, not a bureaucrat, not a ruler. But, people entrusted this burden upon his shoulders, and he had to act¡­ somehow.


    He looked around the large council hall, admiring the beauty of stone craftsmanship that birthed the huge hall into existence. All the carved statues of people significant in the history of the Citadel that encircled the large hall, sunlight beaming through the glass ceiling highlighting their masterfully crafted faces¡­ Ancestors of us all, what would you do?


    He stood up and the crowd went silent. ¡°We appreciate all the questions that you ask, but we require something else. A unanimous vote on our next course of action.¡±


    The hall went silent for a few infinite minutes.


    ***


    ¡°That went fairly well.¡± Ceryna remarked, and Larais spat out a laugh.


    ¡°As well as one could hope for such a gathering to go.¡± Argyl muttered, not amused. ¡°But the council has voted unanimously. A lot of work is ahead of us all.¡±


    ¡°What is the first course of action, Triarch?¡± Larais asked him without a sign of mirth in her tone.


    Argyll did not think for a long time. ¡°Sending an envoy of peace to Glaeria, and re-creation of trade contracts between us and surrounding lands.¡±


    ¡°Do you have somebody particular in mind for the peace mission?¡± Ceryna asked.


    A winded boy came running up the stairs leading to council hall. ¡°Triarch Argyl, mistress Naira Uransahr came seeking your presence, accompanied by medic Auria Yhrsa and a citadel guard Harian¡­ uh¡­ he did not give me the surname.¡±


    ¡°Oh, such a coincidence that a medic, a mechanic and a soldier come seeking you just when we require a peace envoy.¡± Larais spoke loudly with a barely contained enjoyment in her voice.


    ***


    ¡°Exquisite. Simply marvelous.¡± Argyll spoke silently while circling Auria and a straightened projector that traced his every step. ¡°I never even hoped to see one in person, much less a functioning one.¡±


    ¡°So you know what it is?¡± Naira asked, and Triarch nodded slowly.


    ¡°More or less. Wait a second.¡± he turned away from them and went to a large library that adorned the north wall of his office. After a few minutes browsing, he returned with a hand-written journal that he handed to Auria. ¡°You probably won¡¯t recognize the language, but your projector will. Try to read it.¡±


    ¡°How?¡± She asked, puzzled.


    ¡°From what I understand - although my translation might be misleading and not accurate - try to merge your mind with it. See the journal through the arm. Open your mind to¡­¡±


    Auria closed her eyes and focused on the metal arm. A feeling of familiarity swept through her but after a brief moment, she shuddered. ¡°No.¡± She shook her head and handed the journal back to him. ¡°I will not.¡±


    ¡°Why?¡±


    ¡°The thing screams of hunger, of a need to feed, to restore energy. The feeling is¡­ overpowering.¡±


    ¡°Hunger? Restoring energy? Have you used it?¡± Argyl straightened and tensed his muscles as if expecting a blow. Auria nodded. ¡°How?¡±


    ¡°I have healed my broken and burnt arm with it. And I have¡­ probed the cancer inside of Harian.¡±


    ¡°That is¡­ unexpected.¡± Argyl looked puzzled.


    ¡°Talk to us, Triarch. What do you know?¡± Naira demanded with a stern voice.


    ¡°This journal that I have handed to you is not mine, as you might have guessed. It was written a long time ago by a woman, and she refers to herself as a Sphinx. It may be a name, or a title, of which I am unsure. She speaks of being re-made and re-created again and again, in a vicious cycle of death and a new life.¡±


    ¡°A spiritual nonsense.¡± Naira stated. ¡°What is the connection with the arm?¡±


    Argyll rolled his eyes. ¡°Just let me finish, Naira. I remember you being much more patient as a student.¡±


    ¡°That is because you used to slap my fingers with a stick if I¡­¡±


    ¡°Stop this bickering.¡± Auria groaned.


    Argyl looked thankfully towards her. ¡°Now let me continue, and please, do not interrupt. She spoke of a cycle of dying and being re-made again, but not through a birth, as you might think, but through a¡­ device. She hated that thing, and she thought that it would spell the doom of their people - which I assume is the dead civilization of Bashen - as they have stopped reproducing naturally and instead, after death, they just underwent a process of recreation. Now, to this thing.¡± Argyl opened the journal and shifted through ancient pages vigorously. ¡°Here. This¡­ drawing.¡±


    Auria took the journal into her hands for a second time. She felt as if the image was not drawn, but captured from the real world and pressed down onto a paper. She examined the image closely. A female, standing tall, with three projectors spreading from her back.


    ¡°Hey, her hair is the same color as yours, Auria.¡± Harian noticed. It was only then that Auria had noticed the snow-colored ponytail intertwined by multiple wires of different colors.


    ¡°That is Sphinx. As you can see, she also wore the projectors, and she even gave them names - The Dust, The Gravity and The Spike. She did not describe their exact effects or uses, but she mentioned that they were weapons, each of them able to transfer her thoughts into reality, to project them further, to obliterate anything and anyone¡­ But at a cost.¡±


    ¡°What is the cost?¡± Auria asked, knowing first-hand the effects of using the projector.


    ¡°Her life. She writes that after each use, she had to enter the machine that would recreate her body as new, restoring it to a state before the use. She said that there was another way of recharging it, as she called it, but she never mentioned the exact way of doing so.¡±


    ¡°So it is a weapon.¡± Naira said, deep in thoughts.


    ¡°I thought so too, but Auria healed with it. And, as Sphinx said, it is supposed to project the thoughts of the user.¡±


    ¡°And what¡¯s with understanding a language through it?¡± Auria asked, puzzled.


    ¡°My hypothesis. From my experience, the things uncovered from underneath the Citadel come from the lost civilization of Bashen, and old texts - both from our historians and original books written by Bashenites - speak of melding the mind with the device. I thought that there might be a two-way communication between you and the projector.¡±


    ¡°Meaning that I could project my thoughts - to heal - through the arm, and it can project its needs - to feed - through me?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m¡­ not sure, Auria.¡± Argyl admitted. ¡°It was just a hypothesis based on what I¡¯ve read. Please, take this. Try and read it, maybe you will get more answers. The language of Bashen is complicated, and I did not understand everything as clearly as I would like to.¡±


    ¡°Thank you for the help, Argyl.¡± Naira bowed her head slightly. ¡°Is there anything else you can tell us? Perhaps regarding¡­ these?¡± She raised her gauntleted hands, but Argyl¡¯s look was confused. ¡°I have no idea what those are. Have you obtained them from the same archive as the projector? Interesting¡­ Well, that might be for you to find on your own, Nairama.¡±


    ¡°Nairama?¡± Harian asked Auria silently.


    ¡°Her full name.¡± She whispered back. Harian smiled. ¡°Pretty.¡±


    ¡°Now, there is something I need to ask you, in regards to your services to the Citadel.¡± Argyl looked them each in the eyes, trying to read their faces, waiting for their reaction. Auria was the first to speak. ¡°We¡­ wanted to tackle the problem of projector by finding the answer behind the Bashen wall. That is the second part of our¡­ plan. After asking you for help.¡±


    Argyl grinned.  ¡°Excellent. What I need of you is to travel to Glaeria, to their golden city, as a peace envoy. Do this task, and you will have my support to pursue your own agenda behind the Bashen wall.¡±


    ¡°A peace envoy to the land of holy cunts? Why?¡± Harian asked. Argyl sat down, and spoke.


    ***


    ¡°Wake up, commander.¡± Iarvahr¡¯s dream was interrupted by a soft, female voice. ¡°We have docked. Welcome home.¡±

 Chapter 13 - Control

    Thud. Thud. Thud. Thud. Thud.


    Each time the hammer hit the nail, Evam felt like it hit his hungover head instead. A late night full of drinking and whoring cost him dearly, both in regards to lack of coins left in his purse, and in the headache and dry mouth from almost a dozen mugs of sour beer he drank last night. He smiled slightly, remembering the evening before that he spent fondling the innkeeper¡¯s young daughter¡¯s chubby body, the wild, passionate followup with a maid that had cleaned his skin with her mouth a mere half an hour later, the alcohol and gambling with local patrons that occurred before and after all the bodily pleasures of the night happened¡­


    Thud. Thud. Thud. Thud.


    He groaned, and turned in the soft, warm inn bed he slept in¡­


    Thud. Thud. Thud.


    ¡°What in the three hells is going on¡­¡± he growled as he opened his eyes, realizing just now that he did not sleep at all in the inn, but atop a haystack behind the inn¡¯s stables. He stood up, still dizzy, and lumbered slowly towards a nearby square where a crowd had already gathered.


    Thud. Thud.


    He pressed through the crowd until he stood in front of a large message board, where a richly vested man nailed the notice.


    Thud.


    Hammer hit the nail for the last time, and the noble man started to read the message out loud.


    ¡°Good people of Glaeria, the Citadel awaits you! Come live a better life in a place, where famine is just a fame, where rich and poor are equal, where all the knowledge of the world awaits you for free! Come, and live the life you¡¯ve always dreamt of!¡±


    A life I¡¯ve always dreamt of¡­ Evam smiled at the thought.


    ***


    Triarch gave them two days to gather whatever they deemed necessary for the road, with a limit of two chests per person, as they were supposed to travel lightly in a small group of merely thirty people, out of which there were fifteen guards. Auria did not think long of what to pack, as most of her earthly possessions fit comfortably in one chest - spare clothing, few books and journals, and a wooden box filled with pouches of herbs and narcotics that were invaluable in her battle against constant headaches. She packed the second chest with general medications, poultices, disinfectants, needles and syringes, bandages and all the other utilities she deemed useful for the road. After an hour of packing, she found herself sitting on her bed, staring into the wall, thinking.


    I did not have a headache for a rather long time, considering how often they tortured me, but I still did not have a night full of peaceful sleep.


    She felt tired, and each time she thought of the metal arm reaching out of her back, Auria felt a sharp thorn of hunger, deep and cold, as if she never ate in her life.


    Loud ringing caught her attention, and tens of people hurrying on the street below her room¡¯s window caught her attention.


    They aim for a shipyard. Perhaps the fleet has returned. Father¡­


    She did not hesitate for a long time. She wrote a quick note to Naira, explaining where she went, and stormed out of their common home.


    ***


    Sound of thundering hooves warned the villagers. Riders clad in black garments stopped just a few paces before the village, screaming and shouting, taunting everybody. A local militia made up of volunteer villagers stood in front of them, holding primitive weapons - spears, axes and short, rusty swords - in their shaking hands, waiting silently for the inevitable escalation. Riders did not move until enough people gathered outside of their homes. After a command from their leader, faces of riders became illuminated by the light from freshly lit torches. Their horses rammed through the militia and the riders dispersed between the houses, throwing oil-filled jars and torches on the wooden roofs, burning whatever they came across. The fire spread quickly, giving villagers barely enough time to leave and save themselves before the flames. All the houses burned down completely, as the riders made any attempts to put the fire out impossible.


    ¡°Who were they?¡± A woman with a sobbing infant in her arms cried out after the riders left, leaving smoldering destruction in their wake.


    ¡°What did they want? Why did they do this?¡± a local blacksmith bellowed with a strong voice.


    ¡°We can''t stay here, they might return!¡±


    ¡°But what are we supposed to do?¡±


    ¡°Where are we supposed to go?¡±


    Questions, questions, questions, but no answers. Not until the village mayor silenced everybody, and asked the most important question. ¡°Which way did those bandits leave?¡±


    ¡°To the south!¡±  bellowed the blacksmith again.


    ¡°Well then, we run north, away from them. We will seek refuge in the Lands of the Citadel.¡±


    ***


    ¡°Medic, wait!¡± Auria was hurrying through the crowds, impatient to meet her father after a long time, when Harian¡¯s voice broke her concentration. She turned quickly.


    ¡°What are you doing here, soldier?¡± She asked him when he caught up with her and they hurried together.


    ¡°Mechanic did not want me with her while she was packing half of her workshop, and so she sent me to you. Where are you hurrying?¡±


    ¡°Shipyard. The bells rang, people hurried there, I suspect that the fleet had returned.¡±


    ¡°And what¡¯s your interest in the returning fleet, medic?


    ¡°My father sailed away before we could really talk. With both of us running through the world, trying to help whomever we can, we weren¡¯t really able to spend any time together in recent years, with a few painfully short exceptions.¡±


    ¡°You two must have a great relationship then.¡±


    Auria exhaled deeply. ¡°A deep relationship perhaps. And a complicated one. Other than Naira and his lover, he is the only family I¡¯ve ever had.¡±


    ¡°His lover, not your mother?¡± Harian asked curiously. Auria shook her head.


    ¡°Maybe given more time, she might have grown into something of a mother figure.¡± From her tone, Harian understood that something bad happened, and he did not want to pry. Quickly enough, Auria asked a question of her own.


    ¡°What about you, soldier? Any family? A wife, children?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve had brothers and sisters. Now, I am alone.¡±


    ¡°They died?¡±


    ¡°Something like that. I¡¯ve been stripped of honor for carving the ultimate insult into the face of a particularly sick bastard from the army of Glaeria, and as a reward, I¡¯ve lost everyone. I don¡¯t care about the rank, but the companionship¡­ That¡¯s something different.¡±


    ¡°Maybe you won¡¯t be alone anymore.¡±


    Harian looked at Auria with raised eyebrows. ¡°Yes, maybe.¡±


    ***


    People died by scores, a slow and terrifying death taking them regardless of their age or sex. A priest was sent directly from the grand cathedral in the golden city, yet there was not much he could do to save the plague-ridden border town. Through vermin and water, through wind and flies, the plague spread, forming giant, pus-filled blisters all over the body. He could not save anyone, and so it was quickly decided to burn the town down to ashes, along with all the infected inside.


    The inhabitants did not like such an act of their merciful god¡¯s messenger. Instead, they cast him out of the town. After the deed, they had to think and act quickly - more will come, with the same idea in mind and this time, they might be accompanied by soldiers¡­


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    What were they supposed to do?


    They left their homes. A plagued caravan, a convoy of thousand people with wagons, they marched towards the grand wall of Citadel¡¯s first line of defenses, seeking the world-famous healing skills of their medics.


    ***


    The fleet had indeed returned back to the home port, but it was not a cheerful greet that awaited them. Instead of laughter and cries of happiness, a wailing of widows of the sailors serving on destroyed or damaged ships filled the air. A general commotion set Auria and Harian aside, as they made room for the transport of injured sailors. Auria glanced over at some of them, their skins bruised from the onslaught of under-skin bleeding, their bodies mangled and cut. In her mind, she applauded the efforts of fleet medics that worked with limited resources and time, yet were successful in keeping the wounded alive and stabilized.


    ¡°Do you see your father anywhere? Did his ship return?¡± Harian asked her politely while watching the medic regiment at work.


    She pointed towards the largest vessel of the fleet. ¡°Not his ship as he is not a captain but yes, Luthra returned. There, the largest one.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s been heavily damaged, even I can see that.¡± Harian muttered. Auria nodded. ¡°He lives. I saw the glint of his armor from afar.¡±


    ¡°Let¡¯s go to him then.¡±


    Auria shook her head. ¡°Not until all the wounded had been taken care of. We wait. He¡¯s a medic, he will probably be carrying wounded this way soon.¡±


    She focused on the nearest wounded, a young man barely out of the training by the look of his face, and focused on him through the projector. An assault of deranged, hungry, screaming voices hit her and she staggered. Her vision spun, and she sought something to support herself against. Her hand touched a young widow wailing besides her, and the projector comfortably curled inside the backpack SCREAMED.


    Internal, psychic scream that filled her with terror, agony, hunger and  want.


    ¡°FEEEEEEED. OOOOOON. HEEEEEER.¡±


    She felt as the metallic arm started to unwind, ready to thrust itself against the crying widow, ready to pierce her and devour her like a starving animal. Auria jumped away from the woman, colliding with other people in the crowd and tackling them on the ground. She ended up atop of them, and  the screaming intensified.


    ¡°FEED ON THEM!¡±


    ¡°EAT THEM!¡±


    ¡°DEVOUR THEIR ENERGY!¡±


    ¡°THEIR LIFE IS OURS!¡±


    ¡°WE HAVE BEEN STARVING FOR TOO LONG!¡±


    ¡°FEED US, AURIA!¡±


    She wasn¡¯t controlling herself, stunned by the screams of tormented voices inside her head. Her vision still spun, black dots appearing everywhere, slowly pulling her towards unconsciousness.


    ¡°Leave me be!¡± She thought weakly, her inner voice killed by the constant screaming. The projector kept uncoiling, seeking the next target, the next victim, the next prey to feed upon, a wild animal on the hunt¡­


    ¡°Here, medic, let me help you.¡± Harian pulled her upwards, supporting her with his strong arms. ¡°Focus on me, medic. Focus on my voice Auria. Look into my eyes. You are alright, you are on the ground, safely anchored. I¡¯m holding you. I¡¯m not leaving. Focus on my voice. Focus on me, and nothing else.¡±


    Harian recognized her behavior as an onsetting panic attack, a wicked thing he too often observed in soldiers that overcame trauma of battle and death.


    ¡°Breathe, Auria. Slow breaths, focus on breathing slowly. Focus on my voice. Here, drink some water.¡± He handed her his leather flask and Auria drank. The voices in her head were screaming still, but the soldier''s calm voice and strong grip created a thin barrier around her own mind.


    ¡°Calm, Auria. Be calm. I¡¯m holding you, you are safe.¡±


    Crowd kept their distance around them for which both Harian and Auria were thankful. The reason behind that however wasn¡¯t that of compassion or understanding coming from the surrounding people, but the metallic arm turning around, lashing at the crowd, seeking something to bite into.


    Auria fought a battle inside her mind, and she was struggling. She felt strangled by the air around her, compressed into a tiny pebble by the unrelenting assault of voices in her mind. Her headache returned along with a sudden surge of withdrawal symptoms, as her painkiller-addicted body realized that something was missing. The will of the projector wanted to feed - on Harian, on people around her, on Auria¡¯s own mind - but she tried and kept the arm at bay. She felt it flailing all around, but she kept the projector far away from the soldier. A grim realization of what the arm wants to feed upon crept slowly upon her.


    The battle inside her mind was hard, but after years of tormented psyche ruining almost every day of her life, she knew not to relent. She fought, as bravely and hard as she could, her willpower adamant, her mind waging war against all the voices, a battle on multiple fronts, and she knew that she could not fail - not even once, not a single slip-up.


    Harian¡¯s help was enormous. His calm voice drowned all the sounds around her, his deep, beautiful dark eyes locked her in reality, his strong grip made her feel safe and she knew that she could focus completely on her own battle and not be distracted by the world around her.


    Second by second, the projector flailed slower and slower, until it came to a complete stop. Auria - drenched in sweat, breathing heavily and shaking from exhaustion - smiled. She hugged-collapsed into Harian¡¯s embrace, barely staying awake.


    ¡°Thank you¡­¡± She whispered softly.


    Harian smiled. ¡°Always, Auria.¡±


    ***


    ¡°Iarvahr!¡± Suranihr shouted towards him and pointed into the crowd. Iarvahr followed the finger, and saw a Citadel guard holding a white-haired girl in his arms. A long, metallic arm that rose from her back lashed wildly to sides, trying to hit the closest people from the crowd.


    ¡°Isn¡¯t that¡­ projector?¡± Iarvahr asked loudly.


    ¡°Isn¡¯t that your daughter?!¡± Suranihr asked instead of answering. Mere moments later, both of them were hurrying through the crowd.


    ¡°Auria!¡± Iarvahr screamed over the crowd, and after a second, her face turned towards him.


    ***


    Naira walked through the long corridor, the steps of her firm boots with slightly heightened heels echoing from the stone walls. Dead eyes watched her from the paintings of former Triarchs, judging her every step. Naira stopped in front of a large wooden door inlaid with elegant metalwork reminding her of thorny branches. ¡°I need to see the Triarch.¡±  she told two Citadel guards keeping vigil.


    Both guardsmen looked at her from top to the bottom, and one disappeared behind the large door. After a few moments, the door opened, inviting her in. She entered the room, and a cheerful voice of her old mentor greeted her.


    ¡°Naira, to what do I¡­¡±


    ¡°We need to speak alone.¡± She cut his words off, her own words followed by a slight nod of her head towards the guard that stayed inside the room. Argyl¡¯s cheerful expression faded quickly as he sent the guard away with a small gesture of hand.


    ¡°Well, then, speak.¡± Argyl said after they were alone.


    She moved towards the window and looked outside. A grand square dotted by green crowns of trees and colored bushes in flower did not ease the dark mood that held her mind. ¡°That thing of yours already killed someone. Maybe more than one person.¡±


    ¡°How? When?¡±


    ¡°Before it embedded itself in Auria¡¯s back, a young historian found it in archives. He fell unconscious, screamed when he woke up. He burned down the surgical suite in the hospital where Auria works. The thing burned down the suite. And it dried him up, made him older instantly.¡±


    Triarch thought for a minute silently. ¡°And that¡­ rapid aging. That killed him?¡±


    ¡°Auria killed him, when he attacked her. She said that he wanted to feed¡­ on her.¡±


    ¡°How did she kill him?¡±


    ¡°She ripped the thing out of his weakened body.¡±


    Triarch took a few steps towards the cabinet with dark liquid filled bottles. He closed his eyes and took one randomly. He poured the liquid into two glasses and handed one to Naira. She took it while still looking out of the window.


    ¡°And the other death?¡± Argyl asked after taking a sip from the liquid. It burned slightly and a warm sensation spread through his body.


    ¡°A man bumped into Auria while she ran from the suite, the thing already in her back. She said a thought occurred to her, of that man rotting from the inside. She felt a strange sensation through the thing, which she attributes to infesting that man with some disease.¡±


    Larais told him of a man dying from some inner rot. It was the day he offered her the rank of Triarch. The day before the council session happened. This all happened three days ago.


    ¡°Why didn¡¯t you mention this when we last spoke?¡±


    Naira shrugged slightly. ¡°Auria was afraid of how you would react.¡±


    ¡°I understand. Why did you come now to tell me all this?¡±


    ¡°I need your help. Guidance, advice. Can the thing take control? Can it control Auria? If so, how do I stop it? How do I battle the unseen, the disease brought by a mere thought?¡±


    Argyl downed the rest of the liquid in one giant gulp. ¡°I don¡¯t think you can do such a thing, Naira. I don¡¯t think you can stop it.¡±


    She remained silent, but a question hung in the air nevertheless.


    ¡°Sphinx, whomever she was, hated herself for having such a power. She wrote of hundreds dying by her mere thoughts, and the only thing stopping her was the exhaustion brought by the projector itself.¡±


    Naira turned away from the window for the first time and looked straight through Argyl. ¡°So if Auria goes mad, and a plague is unleashed upon the world, one can only hope that it will exhaust her enough so that she would die?¡±


    ¡°Maybe there is another way. Sphinx did not write anything as such in her journal, but she was just a single person. People that created the projectors must have thought of some protection against it.¡± Argyl opened the bottle again, but instead of pouring himself another glass, he took three big swigs straight from the bottle.


    ¡°Keep her sane, Naira.¡± He continued. ¡°Having such power vested upon her shoulders might be too much to bear. Please, be there for her, support her, in any way you can think of.¡±


    Naira nodded and went for an exit. Argyl¡¯s hand on her shoulder stopped her. ¡°Can she really create diseases inside of anyone?¡±


    ¡°She healed her own broken and burnt arm. Why couldn¡¯t she infect someone else?¡±


    Argyl exhaled deeply, his head hidden in his cupped hands. ¡°Be there for her, Naira, and support her. And if everything fails¡­ We cannot leave someone able to manifest plagues and rots and fuck knows what diseases from a simple thought to walk around without control.¡±


    Naira stared at him defiantly. ¡°If you want to say something, say it. Give an order, Triarch of war.¡±


    ¡°If everything you try fails, kill her.¡±

 Chapter 14 - The voice of the dead

    Harian sat at the bedside in the tavern where they took Auria after she collapsed. The moment Iarvahr and Suranihr caught up with them, Auria went limp in the soldier''s arms. They took her to the closest place that offered rooms for rent - a tavern called Seamen''s rest - and laid her down into a comfortable bed. Iarvahr and Suranihr had promised to visit them as soon as they got all the wounded and injured from the ships and gave them the proper care they needed, and Harian did not expect them for at least another five hours.


    ¡°I wonder what you¡¯re dreaming of, Auria. I hope it¡¯s something pleasant, although from your stern face, I really doubt that.¡±


    He took her soft, small hand into his own. ¡°I know that you can¡¯t hear me, medic, but I won¡¯t leave your side. Something draws me to you, to protect you. No, I did not fall in love. I feel like it¡¯s my¡­ duty. I feel like I¡¯m finally doing something that would help me atone for my crimes.¡±


    He chuckled. The idea of talking loudly to a sleeping woman and holding her hand suddenly came to him as childish, but he still did not let go. ¡°Sleep well, Auria. Something tells me that you will need all the rest you can get.¡±


    ***


    ¡°Your mind has proven itself strong, as expected.¡± The presence in front of Auria was sitting in a large cushioned chair, holding a glass clear liquid with ice cubes in left hand, and a smoking stick made of paper in the other hand. The presence wore strange clothes - a padded jacket that reminded her of the armor worn by Citadel guards, yet this one was made of smooth, reflective material. Still, although reflective, the dark blue material seemed to absorb light instead of reflecting it. His plain gray pants ended up tucked into tall, thick black boots with four buckles on each.


    ¡°Please, sit down.¡± Said the presence with a calm, warm voice and before she could respond, she found herself sitting in the same chair as the presence did, holding the same glass and the same lit¡­


    ¡­a cigarette¡­ an unknown word appeared in her mind. Auria inhaled from the cigarette and coughed. It tasted much worse than her own herbal mixture.


    ¡°Who are you?¡±


    ¡°Who I am is not a good question. Who I was, now that would be much better to ask. Let me introduce myself.¡± Presence stood up, and for a few seconds, its faces stopped shifting and a handsome man with deep, blue eyes gleaming with intellect stared at her. ¡°I am the Creator.¡±


    Auria bowed her head politely. ¡°A creator of what?¡± she asked.


    ¡°Of the things you know as projectors. But, wait with the questions. I did not come here to answer all that you wish to know. I came to make a proposition.¡±


    Auria realized that behind the intellect in the Creator¡¯s eyes, something was hiding - ruthlessness, ferocity and cunning.


    ¡°Speak.¡±


    ¡°I will give you an answer to three questions, whatever they may be. I will answer truthfully and without holding anything back. As a payment for my¡­ services, you will feed us.¡±


    ¡°Feed you, as in¡­¡±


    ¡°As in you will devour the life of someone. A person, the younger the better.¡±


    Shivers ran down her spine. ¡°Why?¡±


    ¡°Is that one of the three questions?¡± the Creator chuckled.


    ¡°I did not accept anything, and I will surely not kill somebody just for the sake of three answers from¡­ you.¡± she spat the last word with so much contempt that the Creator¡¯s body tensed.


    ¡°Let me explain something to you, my dear poor medic. You will devour someone, willing or not. It¡¯s not up to you. The projector will slowly but surely drain you if you do not feed it - and through it, us. Your mind, however strong, will fail you. You will lose control. You will become a mindless thing, a shell without soul, with only a hunger-filled emptiness inside. I¡¯m giving you a choice.¡±


    ¡°A choice of whom to kill. Fantastic.¡± She sipped out of clear liquid. It tasted of plums and apricots.


    He shook his head. ¡°A choice to keep your mind intact, and to better understand what kind of instrument came into your possession. The one before you? Lakar was his name?¡± The Creator¡¯s face shifted, and a young historian stood in front of her. ¡°I did not get that choice, Auria, and I tried to kill you without any control of my own actions. Would you bestow such risk upon your closest?¡±


    Auria sat silently for a full fifteen minutes, pondering. Finally, she shook her head. ¡°No. I have no reason to trust you, and I will not kill in your name.¡±


    The Creator laughed. ¡°As you wish, medic. I can¡¯t force you. Not yet. I have all the time in the world. One of the benefits of being dead.¡±


    ***


    ¡°You¡¯re finally awake.¡± her father¡¯s voice sounded much older than she remembered. It was full of pain when it used to be mirthful and cheerful, and it was¡­ raspier, as if his larynx was damaged. There was a way of finding out, but she did not dare to touch the projector with her mind again. She sat on the bed, groaning. ¡°Hello, father.¡±


    Iarvahr hugged her tightly. ¡°I¡¯ve missed you, Auria.¡±  Without hesitation, she returned the gesture.


    ¡°How have you been?¡± He asked her. She laughed. How do you answer such a question after years without any contact?


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    ¡°The usual. Blood, pus and rot.¡±


    ¡°And metal.¡± Iarvahr nodded towards the arm. ¡°You¡¯ve got yourself a projector. How?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve¡­ killed a man that tried to kill me with it. Wait¡­¡± She stared into his stern face. ¡°How do you know what it¡¯s called?¡±


    ¡°We found them. Three of them. But they remain dormant.¡± Instead of her father, Suranihr answered.


    ¡°Where?¡± She asked, puzzled. ¡°On the sea?¡±


    ¡°Something like that.¡± Iarvahr nodded. ¡°How did you activate it?¡±


    ¡°I didn¡¯t. It was already active when it¡­ attached itself to me.¡± Auria was more and more uncomfortable with this line of questions. Her head was spinning, the pain in her head suddenly returned as strong as if it never left. She was thankful when Harian took the word.


    ¡°A man that I¡¯ve escorted found it in an archive. It came from the underground. He inserted a strange blue prism into it, and activated it. Then - by an accident - it attached itself to him. It killed him in a short time.


    ¡°Killed him? How?¡± Iarvahr asked quickly.


    ¡°What¡¯s with the questioning?¡± Auria snarled at him, irritated. ¡°I haven¡¯t seen you in years, and this is what you do? Interrogate me, as if I¡¯m some criminal?¡±


    ¡°She¡¯s right. Let her breathe. Stand back.¡± Harian stood at her side, looking defiantly at two other men in the room.


    ¡°Who are you to command me?¡± Iarvahr looked at him, fury in his eyes, blood dripping from his voice. This is not my father. Auria thought. ¡°Father, calm down!¡± She shouted, as she saw Iarvahr¡¯s hand moving towards an axe at his side.


    ¡°Stand down. I won¡¯t say it again.¡± Harian¡¯s voice was cold and sharp as a freshly sharpened blade.


    ¡°Or you do what, fight me? Fists against an axe?¡±


    ¡°Stand down, Iarvahr. That¡¯s an order.¡±


    ¡°We¡¯re not on your ship anymore, Suranihr. Auria, talk before I cut your plaything to pieces. Everything you know about that thing.¡±


    Suranihr¡¯s voice was strong, stoic and hot as a bellowing furnace. ¡°I am still your commanding officer, commander Iarvahr. Stand down, or face trial. I¡¯ve had enough bullshit for a lifetime in the past few weeks.¡±


    Her heart pounded. Her father, the man she loved from the first moment she laid her eyes upon him¡­ The most gentle soul she ever met, the calm, always reasonable Iarvahr Yhrsa¡­  Acting like a madman. An insane, obsessed person. ¡°Why?¡± She asked him, pain seething from the word.


    His movements became erratic. He started pacing, his hands shaking, his lips trembling, the words coming from him quick and confused. ¡°I need to save her. I need to bring her back. Leonie¡­ I killed her, you know? She begged me to do it. And now, she blames me. She wails of anguish, she cries from all the torment¡­¡±


    ¡°The dead speak to you too?¡± Auria straightened. A pulse of pain made her face wince. She tried to find the herb filled pouch and stock up her pipe, but she could barely feel her hands. Harian realized what she was doing, and without questions, he pushed enough of the herbal mixture into the pipe and lit it for her.


    Instead of Iarvahr, Suranihr answered. ¡°He¡¯s confused. He has acted strangely ever since we found those metal arms inside of that hell hole.¡±


    ¡°What hole?¡± Auria asked after the first, blissful breath of sweet herb smoke.


    Iarvahr sat on the ground - more collapsing than sitting down - and put his head into hands. He mumbled incoherently.


    ¡°We have¡­ encountered something. Some things¡­¡± Suranihr started their story.


    ***


    After Suranihr finished talking of what happened over the course of past days, - from the moment they met Shrieks until now, - Auria felt better. The pain became bearable, and she stood up from the bed. After a moment¡¯s hesitation, she sat down in front of her father. ¡°Did she really speak to you?¡±


    Iarvahr nodded slowly, his head still hidden behind his palms.


    ¡°What did she say?¡±


    He took a deep breath. ¡°That if I wield the projector, I can bring her back.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s¡­ not worth it. The few times I have used it, it almost killed me. Now, I worry that if I try to use it again, I will lose my mind, and it will¡­ overpower me.¡± She shifted her gaze towards Harian. ¡°Unless I kill someone with it.¡±


    ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°I can¡­ drain life with it. Empower the projector with the life force of something - or someone - else. Somehow. I¡¯m not really sure about this, and please, don¡¯t ask me how I know about the draining.¡±


    Harian nodded slowly, his brows furrowed. ¡°Maybe you should try and read the journal that Triarch gave you.¡±


    ¡°I think you¡¯re right.¡±


    Suranihr coughed. ¡°I will¡­ take your father somewhere quiet until he calms down. Come, Iarvahr.¡±


    ¡°Thank you, captain.¡± Auria put her hand on his arm. Out of nowhere and unexpectedly, Harian felt a sting of jealousy. ¡°We are leaving soon, for Glaeria. We depart the day after tomorrow, in the morning. Maybe we can all meet again, tomorrow? Or at least come to send us off at the southern gate.¡± Suranihr nodded. ¡°We will be honored.¡±


    When Suranihr and Iarvahr left, they were left alone in the room. ¡°What did you smoke, Auria?¡±


    ¡°Painkillers. Weak narcotics¡­ I suffer from constant headaches. Or I did suffer from them, until the projector pushed them away.¡±


    ¡°And now that the projector is drained, the pain has returned.¡±


    She nodded tired from both the pain and the narcotics. Harian continued.


    ¡°Why don¡¯t you recharge it?¡±


    She was taken aback by the question. ¡°And kill someone with it? I¡¯m a medic, Harian. Not a killer.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ve killed before. In self defense, at least. I don¡¯t think that the projector would mind where the drained life came from.¡±


    There was some truth in his words. ¡°I¡¯ll keep it in mind, soldier.¡±


    ***


    ¡°You are close, Iarvahr. You know what you need to do.¡±


    He kept turning in the darkness, and although he heard Leonie, he couldn¡¯t see her anywhere.


    ¡°You know how to power them up now. The blue prisms. Find them, and wield the arms. Wield the projectors, Iarvahr.¡±


    ¡°Where are you, Leone?¡± He shouted into the void, clueless and helpless.


    ¡°I am dead, Iarvahr. But you can bring me back. Only you can bring me back.¡±


    ¡°How?¡± he pleaded, tears running down his face.


    ¡°Wield the projector.¡±


    ***


    Iarvahr woke up in his chamber aboard Luthra. He knew what he had to do - now that he found out that he needs blue prisms, and that they can be found in archives, he was just a small step away from bringing Leonie back.


    He snuck silently into the hall of the mechanics, where three projectors laid bare upon a hard metal workbench. He quickly looked around, and when he assured himself that no one followed him and that no one was with him in the room, he took the projectors and put them in a large leather bag that he grabbed from a nearby bench. Quietly as a shade, he left the hall.


    He relied on his rank that no one would stop him on his way off of the ship and other than a few salutes, there were indeed no interruptions. As he walked off the ship deck and hurried towards the part of the city where archives stood, another figure followed him.


    ¡°What the fuck are you doing, Iarvahr¡­¡± Suranihr muttered to himself.

 Chapter 15 - The three tendrils

    Iarvahr walked through a dark, barely lit corridor. His steps echoed in the darkness and shadows played tricks on his mind, dancing just barely out of vision.  He tried to give them no attention, his eyes and thoughts focused on the large door at the end of the corridor.


    The doors were locked - a minor hindrance fixed quickly by the use of his axe. After a few bashes, he was in, surrounded by tables with heaps of odd objects. The lantern he carried made the objects around him glitter with golden reflection, but the things he looked for weren¡¯t supposed to be golden.


    ¡°Blue prisms, blue prisms¡­¡± he muttered to himself, rummaging through the old, forgotten artifacts. ¡°Where are you¡­¡±


    ***


    Two men walked through a dark, barely lit corridor. Their steps echoed in the darkness, and shadows played tricks on their mind, dancing just barely out of their vision. They gave them no attention, as they were complaining and groaning about their work all the time while walking to the artifact repository. They both hated the archive work.


    ¡°Hey, stop.¡± One of them hissed suddenly. ¡°Look, the doors are smashed open.¡±


    ¡°What the hell is going on?¡± Second man whimpered. There wasn¡¯t anyone supposed to be here. ¡°I don''t like this Urus, we should head back.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t be a coward, Artin.¡± The first man chuckled. ¡°I have a brand new revolving gun. And besides, if we catch someone here and present him to the citadel guard, maybe we will be rid of archive work forever!¡±


    ¡°Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck¡­¡± Artin whispered. ¡°At least open the lantern more, I can''t see shit.


    ¡°Calm do¡­¡± the words of the first man were killed by the sound of heaps of metal falling to the ground. While Artin was terrified of this noise, Urus ran through the archive doors with a gun in his hand and a shouting coming from his mouth. ¡°Hey, who¡¯s there? Show yourself! I¡¯ve got a gun!¡±


    ¡°Fuuuuuck¡­¡± Tears of fear trailing down his cheeks, Artin still ran behind his friend and entered the room just a few seconds later. He didn¡¯t notice his friend standing frozen right behind the half-open door and hit him in the back, both of them tumbling on the ground.


    Trying to stand up quickly, Urus looked around them, searching for the source of noise. His eyes stopped on a figure clad in bronze-colored armor with three, brightly shining blue tendrils sticking from his back, waving in the still air, tasting the surroundings like a serpent¡¯s snake. He froze, unable to move after seeing such a grotesque sight.  ¡°What the fuck is that?¡± Artin cried loudly, and all three tendrils turned towards him.


    Slowly, the bronze-clad man turned his body and faced them. His eyes were blank and unfocused, seeing nothing, looking at nothing, but after he focused his sight on the lying duo, Artin realized that something was indeed present in the eyes. Hunger.


    ¡°Leonie¡­¡± The monstrous man whispered. ¡°I¡¯m coming.¡± The man took a few shaky steps towards the men on the floor. His head spun erratically from left to right, the movements choppy, lizard like and not humanly fluid at all. ¡°No. I will not¡­¡± He whispered to himself. ¡°No¡­ Feeding¡­¡± he pressed the words through gritted teeth. ¡°No, I will not!¡± He shouted.


    Urus was still frozen, but Artin reached for the revolving gun on the ground and with trembling hands, he sent shot after shot against bronze-clad horror walking towards him.


    ***


    They returned to Auria¡¯s home, where Naira was already waiting for them. After a few words, they agreed that sitting on the bed and waiting a day for the departure was not a thing they looked forward to, and so they moved to the tavern two flights of stairs below.


    They ordered food and drinks and after a few hungry minutes, roasted beef with richly spiced baked potatoes and steamed vegetables sat on the table in front of them, filling their noses with delightful aroma. Auria didn¡¯t wait for anything and ate quickly, while both Naira and Harian reached for mugs of beer first.


    ¡°I¡¯ve been thinking.¡± Naira said silently between sips of beer. ¡°About the extinct civilization of Bashen.¡±


    ¡°What about them?¡± Harian asked politely.


    ¡°They made that thing.¡± She nodded towards Auria. ¡°Imagine it, a single person able to decimate a camp, a village, a town, an army, an entire continent of people with one thought, with one plague created in the mind of that person and spread to a few people.¡±


    ¡°If that¡¯s what it really does.¡± Auria said after a quick swallow of half-chewed meat. ¡°I know that I¡¯ve healed my arm, I am not entirely sure that I¡¯ve killed a man with a thought-plague.


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    ¡±That device is obviously connected to diseases.¡± Harian said. ¡°You feel my cancer. And, you need to drain someone to power the projector. That sounds pretty ominous.¡±


    Naira put the beer mug down quickly. ¡°You need to do what?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve... had a dream visitor.¡± Auria said and re-told her last day¡¯s experiences to Naira.


    ¡°We need to get that thing out of your body as soon as possible.¡±


    ¡°I agree only partially.¡± Auria said. ¡°Imagine it, if I can heal as serious injuries as burnt skin and broken body parts instantly¡­ I might heal more with a projector in a week than I¡¯ve healed in my life.¡±


    Naira looked her right into the eyes. ¡°Unless you lose control. Then you may kill with that thing more in a day than you would have healed in seven lifetimes.¡±


    ¡°I will not lose control. Don¡¯t worry. I¡¯ve got you guys.¡± Auria smiled at them, and filled her mouth with baked potato.


    ***


    ¡°Why?¡± Iarvahr screamed into the man¡¯s face as he impaled him on one projector arm. ¡°Why did you make me do this? Why did you have to shoot?¡± His words echoed in the room, but the dried husk of a man hanging limply from the blue tendril did not answer him. The second man still laid on the ground, a puddle of piss forming beneath him.


    ¡°I¡¯ve had it under control.¡± Iarvahr lowered his upper body towards the man on the floor. ¡°Can you imagine how hard it is to keep three of them at bay?¡± One blue tendril pierced the man¡¯s shoulder joint, while the second tendril impaled the man¡¯s abdomen. Third projector shook the dried up husk from it. The corpse of Artin fell on the ground where it shattered into million pieces.


    Iarvahr straightened up, watching as the man¡¯s life seeped out from him, feeling a surge of energy as he never felt before. Such an ecstatic feeling made his skin tingle, every nerve of his body pushed to its limits, the thrill unimaginable. He felt excited, lustful, stronger than ever, he felt his blood rush into each of his fingers, he felt every heartbeat send more blood into his legs and even his penis.


    ¡°Thank you. You gave me much more than the one before you. He fed my arms. You fed¡­ my body.¡± Iarvahr smiled, and threw the man against the wall.


    ¡°What have you done, Iarvahr?¡±


    Iarvahr turned towards the hall entrance. Suranihr stood there, shock plainly visible in his face.


    ***


    The food was finished and they remained seated behind the table, slowly drinking strong beer. ¡°What is your take on this, soldier?¡± Naira asked Harian. He shrugged.


    ¡°I see the dangers, but I see the possibilities. She¡¯s a good person, a good soul. She would not hurt anyone willingly. If anyone was to wield such a powerful thing, I¡¯m glad it¡¯s her.¡±


    Naira rolled her eyes and shifted her focus again towards her oldest friend. ¡°From what I understand, you almost lost control already, Auria.¡±


    ¡°But I didn¡¯t, thanks to Harian.¡±


    ¡°What if he wasn¡¯t there? What if you actually lost control? Can you at least admit that you need to learn how to control that thing properly?¡±


    ¡°No.¡± Auria shook her head. ¡°I will not use it, I will not think of it. I will block it out of my mind, and it will remain dormant.¡±


    Harian¡¯s eyes were switching between Auria and the projector. ¡°Not to shatter your dreams, medic, but willing or not, you move the arm. You gesture with it, just as you do with your own hands.¡±


    ¡°Oh¡­¡± She exhaled. ¡°Well¡­ How do I control it? I can¡¯t use it, otherwise it might drain me and kill me as it did Lakar.¡±


    Naira drummed her fingers against the table. ¡°You need to drain someone.¡± Harian nodded.


    ¡°I will not murder someone just so I can survive.¡±


    ¡°No. Not a murder. A test, performed on a test subject. We will go to alchemists laboratories, they keep the worst of the worst in there as test subjects. Rapists, murderers and their likes.¡± Harian nodded again, this time with much more eagerness as before.


    ¡°I¡­¡± Auria sighed. ¡°I see the logic behind this, but¡­ Is that right?¡± She looked at them with concern in her face. ¡°What gives me the right to kill someone so that I can live?¡±


    ¡°Survival of the fittest.¡± Harian muttered.


    ¡°The projector in your spine.¡± Naira muttered at the same time.


    ***


    ¡°What have you done?¡± Suranihr repeated after witnessing Iarvahr throw the corpse away through the room. ¡°You killed them?¡±


    ¡°They shot at me first!¡± Iarvahr barked angrily. ¡°Do not make the same mistake, Suranihr. Move from my way. No one will stand in my way.¡±


    Suranihr did not move, a pistol in one hand, a lantern in second. ¡°You need help, Iarvahr.¡±


    Iarvahr growled. ¡°I need you to move out of my way, or I¡¯ll make you.¡±


    ¡°No.¡± Suranihr stood his ground.


    Iarvahr focused his mind through one of the tendrils and he realized that he felt how all things attract each other with a very weak force, and how everything around him, and himself, is attracted to the center of the world. He felt how the world is attracted towards the sun, and how the sun is attracted to something dark and deep and unimaginably far away.


    He realized that he could eliminate the attractions around him¡­ or amplify them. He focused on Suranihr, and watched as his friend was pulled towards the ground, hitting his knees in a loud impact followed by his torso and head. Suranihr laid on the ground, bleeding, broken, unable to stand, unable to even move. He felt as if a tonne of steel laid on his back, and he felt how his broken ribs scratch against one another. He felt the pulsating, mind-numbing pain in his knees, and then, for a while, he felt nothing as deep darkness enveloped him.


    Iarvahr stepped over the dying body of his friend, but he stopped himself from leaving. ¡°I am sorry, my friend.¡± He whispered as he lifted him off the ground.

 Chapter 16 - A food for a soul

    ¡°This place is really creepy.¡± Harian muttered. As they passed the steel bars of cell gates, the psychological effect of monotonous color all around him started to take its toll. Everything was blending together into the pale walls, all the wooden chairs were colored pale beige, all the simple furniture ranging from tables to simple wardrobes, the floor, the carpet, even the steel bars of cell doors were painted the same color.


    ¡°They are not here for comfort.¡± Auria spoke silently. ¡°But I agree. I hate this place.¡±


    ¡°So you¡¯ve been here before?¡± Soldier asked her curiously, and Auria nodded. ¡°Most of the medics were, during the training. I had to choose a victim to be infected with a disease, and then treat him accordingly. It was supposed to be a lesson in the value of human life, to better understand what power do medics really have over the suffering and choosing whom to let live, and whom to let die.¡±


    ¡°How old were you?¡±


    Auria turned her gaze towards Harian. ¡°Fifteen.¡±


    Naira shuddered. She knew Auria already back then, considered her a sister already, and she vividly remembered all the tears and breakdowns that Auria had from those macabre lessons.


    ¡°I didn¡¯t realize how hard this might be for you.¡± Naira whispered softly. Auria shrugged. ¡°It is, and I expect to break down in tears after this whole thing will be behind us. But we are here, and I see the logic of what I am about to do.¡±


    ¡°This might be the perfect subject for your¡­ needs.¡± A brown haired woman of Harian¡¯s age showed them a cell with a young man sleeping on an uncomfortable bed. They couldn¡¯t see much of him, his body covered with beige blanked and his face hidden behind a flock of oily, long black hair. ¡°He has been sold to us as a child rapist, a slave driver and a murderer.¡±


    ¡°A slave driver? He¡¯s from Ladrurg then?¡± Harian asked. The man shifted his gaze as he heard the voices and a darker, sun-tanned skin answered Harian¡¯s question. ¡°Far from your southern home, swine.¡± Harian growled towards the man. A spit from the black haired man was the only answer he got.


    Auria felt throbbing pulsating from the projector. Connected with her mind, it seemed that the projector knew what was coming and it expected to be fed soon. It started to unravel itself from the coiled position inside of Auria¡¯s backpack.


    The dark haired woman watched Auria intently. ¡°Can I stay and watch, please? For research purposes of course.¡± As the projector uncoiled itself and spread to its full length and scratched the ceiling above Auria¡¯s head, the woman continued. ¡°I don¡¯t think that this will be an ordinary experience.¡±


    ¡°Stay. Open the cell. Lock it behind me.¡± Auria said with a voice that sounded like two pieces of metal scraping against one another. The woman hurried to obey. As soon as Auria walked through the door, the black haired man lunged at her, quick as a hunting cat. Instinct kicked Harian and - to his surprise - Naira and both of them aimed their weaponry at the black haired man, ready to kill him before he hurt Auria.


    There was no need for that. Five fingers of the projector squeezed the man¡¯s neck and held him in the air. The man¡¯s arms, legs and long hair were flailing as he struggled in the metallic grip, but to no avail. Auria walked, unencumbered by the man¡¯s weight, and pressed him against the further wall, squeezing the throat, choking the life out of the slaver. With each passing second, the man seemed older, more fragile, drier. Color ran out of  his skin, leaving but a pale paper-thin shell spread against the bones underneath. His mouth froze open in a silent shout of pain, his eyes devoid of color, dried up like plums underneath the hot summer sun.


    It ended as quickly as it began and after a few seconds, Auria was standing in the cell with a corpse hanging off her metallic arm. She was breathing heavily, her eyes closed. A rush of warmth and energy filled every inch of her body, and she never felt more alive. Her mind was clear and strong, not a trace of pain left in her head and body. A tingling sensation spread across her whole skin, concentrating itself in places she usually associated with sexual pleasure, bringing her to an edge of climactic release.


    ¡°Are you alright, Auria?¡± Naira asked softly. She nodded. ¡°I¡¯ve never felt more alive. This¡­ This was thrilling.¡±


    ¡°And was it successful?¡± Harian asked. ¡°Can you safely connect your mind with a projector?¡±


    After a brief hesitation, Auria nodded. ¡°There is silence, but my mind is connected to it. It feels different. It¡¯s not violent, there are no screaming voices. I feel it¡¯s¡­ mind. It has a sort of mind, can you believe that?¡± Auria laughed. ¡°A mind of a machine. How¡­ curious.¡± She turned towards the three people waiting outside the room. She saw them, felt them differently. ¡°This thing¡­ is stronger than I¡¯ve anticipated. It is full of energy now, where before it was just an empty husk.¡±


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    ¡°So there are no voices? It doesn¡¯t try to control you?¡± Naira asked with relief. Auria shook her head. ¡°No. No such thing. I feel like that behavior was something of a last resort, a desperate cry for help, to prevent it from starvation. Something like when a wild animal gets into a frenzy from hunger.¡± Auria turned her head towards the woman that accompanied them. ¡°Thank you for this opportunity, Klaire. I am indebted to you.¡±


    Klaire nodded appreciatively. ¡°I¡¯m planning on taking up on your offer, Auria.¡±


    Auria shifted the focus of her projector towards Harian. Again, she felt the cancerous growth inside of him but now she had enough energy to actually heal him. She walked closer, the projector stretched towards the soldier. ¡°What are you doing, Auria?¡± He asked as he took a few steps back.


    ¡°I¡¯m going to heal your cancer.¡± She murmured, her eyes closed, focusing.


    ¡°Wait, now? You¡­¡± Harian coughed violently, his body bent forwards in a wild spasm. Coughing wasn¡¯t stopping and soon, bloody droplets and phlegm accompanied each cough. After a while, coughing stopped and Harian, now on his knees and hands, stood up slowly and breathed deeply. ¡°Was that it?¡± He wheezed, and Auria nodded. ¡°I had to¡­ remove it from your body somehow. How do you feel?¡±


    ¡°Me?¡± Harian chuckled. ¡°I¡¯m perfect. How about you, did it tire you out? Any voices, confusion, anything out of the ordinary?¡±


    Auria shook her head. ¡°It was rather easy,but to be honest, it would be much easier to spread that cancer inside of you. This thing is much more powerful than you can imagine. All this power for one life of an evil person¡­¡± Auria smiled brightly, her eyes skipping between her companions. ¡°I feel like I can heal the world.¡±


    ¡°Be careful, Auria.¡± Naira said calmly, opening the cell door for her friend.


    ¡°Always.¡±


    ***


    Iarvahr waited until night fell and clouds hid the moon. He hid the three tendrils and gleaming armor beneath a heavy brown cloak and with an adorned hood, he crept towards the guardsmen stables. A horse with great endurance was necessary to the next step of his path. Two tendrils, as intertwined with his mind as with his body, showed him his next destination - a cave where he slit the throat of his beloved. The third tendril, still not fed with the life force of a living person, stayed dormant.


    The communication with powered up tendrils was rather easy. He sent a thought towards them, and they answered with a thought that came up his mind as if it was his own. That¡¯s why he knew that what he was doing was right, and that there really was a way of bringing Leonie back. A word reconfigurator sprang up in his mind when he asked the projectors how to bring her back, and even though he wasn¡¯t entirely sure of what exactly to do, he knew where to go. That was a promising start.


    He left Suranihr at Auria¡¯s home. He knew that she would be able to take care of him, although he was very saddened by all the broken bones and torn organs that he had caused. He did the best he could to ease Suranihr¡¯s pain and to help with wounds as much as he could, but¡­


    He hurried. The vision of his beloved back in his arms drove him forward more than anything ever did in his life. He would give anything, do anything to bring her back, and nothing, not Suranihr, not Auria, not even the whole fucking army of Glaeria would stop him from bringing his beloved back to life.


    A single stableboy tended to horses when Iarvahr entered the large wooden building. Boy turned towards him and, without hesitation, cried for help. No one not wearing the citadel guard uniform was supposed to be here, and Iarvahr was obviously an intruder.


    Iarvahr focused his second powered up projector towards the boy and realized that although at least fifteen regular steps divided them, he needed to take only one step. The projector pulled him towards the stable boy and Iarvahr hit him with a bone-shattering force, leaving the boy on the ground, broken and begging for help. Iarvahr helped him end the pain quickly by draining him with a third, yet dormant tendril. The rush was even stronger than the first two combined and Iarvahr realized that the pleasure of feeding oneself with the life force of another being was incomparable to anything he ever experienced.


    His mind cleared after a few seconds and a horrible realization of what he had done hit him with the force of a steam hammer. But there was no time to dally, and projectors showing him the way drove him forward. He muttered a quick apology to the boy, mounted a white horse he chose for himself and trailed into the darkness.


    ***


    Auria found Suranihr lying in her bed as if she herself put him there. His body was in a desolate state and she was very surprised that he still lived. It spoke very much of his resilience toward injuries.


    She did not hesitate, and healed most of his major wounds using her new powers. This however took more energy than she anticipated, as she had to rebuild torn organs and broken bones almost from the scratch.


    He woke up for a moment, speaking a single word,  ¡®Iarvahr¡¯, and Auria realized that she recognized the handiwork of her father. He taught her how to properly bandage the injured, what to do to try and stabilize internal injuries and broken bones, and Suranihr¡¯s current state spoke very clearly of her father¡¯s involvement. But where was he? Did Suranihr try to call her father for help, or did he try to point towards the person that caused all these injuries?


    Out of respect to the wounded, Harian left the room and stayed behind the closed door of the adjacent rental room, as the price for a room was very acceptable in this establishment. Naira was already sleeping in her own bed, and Auria sat in the cushioned chair with a lit pipe, smoking more out of habit than for the necessity of it.


    She needed to know what happened to Suranihr, but at the moment, all she could do was to wait. After a moment of deciding on how to pass time, she took the journal she got from Triarch and tried to look at it through the projector. To her surprise, the language became familiar to her as if she spoke it from her birth. Without hesitation, she started to read.

 Chapter 17 - The first pages

    My name is Sphinx. The date is¡­ not important. Dates start to lose their meaning after you die a couple hundred times.


    Why am I writing this? Perhaps to leave something behind, something valuable. Something that might actually be helpful, and not the usual chaos, destruction and death that I used to leave in my wake.


    If you are reading these words, do not expect to hear of my full life, or some treasure to be unearthed and serve as a salvation before destruction. If my estimations are correct, you will read this journal after I am long dead - for the last time, at least I hope so.


    If you are reading these words, you are a Wielder. You found out how to read these words through that fucking metal thing sticking out of your body, and I can only hope that if such a misfortune has befallen you, there is only one projector embedded into your body, and not more.


    To clarify some possible confusion, there is another variant of this journal, dear wielder. If you tried to read this without a projector, if you somehow only knew our language but you weren''t damned by that devilish thing sticking out of your body, you would read something completely different. A brief overview of some random events that would not make much sense to you, and perhaps you would attribute it to the complexity of our language.


    These words that you are reading right now are for you, and only for you my dear wielder.


    I pity you. I am really, really sorry for what is going to happen to you.


    That you care to read these words means that the projector has not yet corrupted you. Perhaps you have tasted the bliss that comes from draining the life of someone, perhaps you felt the sweet ecstasy, the pure pleasure that comes from the rush of new energy flowing through your nerves.


    That is a lie.


    You feel like you can do anything, perhaps you feel like you can save the world, change the course of history, become a legend¡­


    I became a legend. Entire worlds feared me, for where I walked, only death and dust followed.


    You will feel like you require more. More energy, more death, more draining, more often.


    That is not a lie. The projector will drain you, first and foremost. Your mind will be under constant pressure, eternal assault against the barrier of your own will. You may last for a day, a week, a month, a decade¡­  But inevitably, you will decay over time.


    Learn to embrace it. The less you struggle, the longer you will last. Although, keep in mind that not all the voices you may hear from the projector will speak the truth.


    Ah, the voices. I¡¯m losing track of my own thoughts, so please, bear with me. The voices, yes. With a projector, you are directly connected to the Deadvoid.


    I should explain. We¡­ At the peak of our might, as a species, we¡¯ve conquered the stars, the galaxies, everything was in our grasp. Everything but death. Our best minds focused all their efforts to tap into the realm of the dead - the Deadvoid. You might ask what¡¯s the reason for such a blasphemy, but the answer is simple - to conquer death, the last unconquered thing in the vast universe.


    I will spare you the details, but let me say that after a long while, our people were successful, and the dead became living again¡­ sort of. But everything comes at a price, and the price was too great.


    We¡¯ve started to fuel our technology with the energy from the Deadvoid. Everything we¡¯ve used - projectors, reconfigurators, reachers, inhibitors¡­  everything runs on the power from Deadvoid. And the dead there¡­ suffer. Constantly, endlessly, they are stretched, pulled apart, sewn together only to be torn to pieces again, all for the sake of serving as a sort of battery that used to run our civilization¡­


    You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.


    The Deadvoid powers our technology, and all the minds trapped in there suffer. They hunger, they need to feed¡­


    That¡¯s what I mean by the voices you hear. The dead speak to you, yes. But, after endless torment performed on their minds, again and again, I doubt that many of them are still sane.


    Which brings me to another thing I want to say to you, dear wielder. You might think that I¡¯m talking a load of bullshit - I¡¯ve mentioned that I¡¯ve died a couple hundred times, and that the dead power our technology and blah blah blah. It might sound like utter bullshit, I know.


    Believe me when I say that I wish that was true. When I was dead, I felt it¡­ all. I felt everything. I felt my soul stretched and twisted while the phase hammers of our ship charged up, ready to eradicate the flagship of insurrectionists¡­


    And once again, my mind has trailed off and you can¡¯t possibly understand what I¡¯m writing about. This is the mind decay I¡¯ve spoken about. I¡¯ve had as many new bodies as I needed, but It can help only for a time¡­ The inevitable decay of the mind attacks the Deadvoid part of your mind. The part that will exist for an eternity after your body is burnt, maimed, butchered, decomposed, disintegrated, frozen solid¡­


    Back to the voices of the dead. An idea may form in your mind, whether it is possible to talk to the dead, if the dead can talk to you. The simplest answer would be yes, but¡­


    ***


    ¡°Auria..¡± Suranihr¡¯s soft, raspy voice surprised her and she let out a soft squeal. Reading through Sphinx¡¯s journal kept her mind fully occupied and blind to the outside world.


    I¡¯ll need to return to that journal later. They conquered worlds¡­ stars¡­ and death? Can it be true?


    ¡°How do you feel, captain?¡± Auria asked with a soft voice as she took his wrist between her fingers and checked his blood flow. ¡°Who has done that to you? My father?¡±


    Suranihr cursed and nodded. ¡°He had that fucking thing sticking out of his back, just as you¡­ Only he had three of them. I saw him kill two men with it, and he¡­ he lost it. Insanity prevailed.¡± Suranihr sighed. ¡°I worry that we have plenty of problems on our hands.¡± He looked her in the eyes. ¡°You¡¯re leaving tomorrow? To Glaeria, you said?¡±


    Auria nodded. ¡°Then¡­ I¡¯m coming with you.¡±


    Auria was surprised. ¡°Why? a sea captain on dry land? And don¡¯t you have a ship to attend to?¡±


    Suranihr shook his head. ¡°I can¡¯t leave him. I¡¯ll travel with you, catch up with him somehow¡­ and help him.¡±


    Auria nodded slowly. ¡°Your reasons are your own. But I need to ask - why did he attack you? And how did he cause such severe injuries to you?¡±


    ¡°I¡­ The only thing I remember is being suddenly pulled towards the ground with an irresistible force. I hit the ground, heard my bones shatter¡­ And then I woke up here.¡±


    ¡°And how do you feel?¡±


    ¡°As good as a newborn. I take it that you¡¯ve healed me with that weird arm of yours, just as you¡¯ve mentioned healing your arm¡­ Believe me, that¡¯s not the strangest thing I¡¯ve witnessed in the last few days.¡±


    Auria nodded again. ¡°Still, you need to rest, captain. If you need, I can ask Harian to go gather your belongings and bring them here while you sleep.¡±


    Suranihr shook his head. ¡°Thank you, that won¡¯t be necessary.¡±


    ***


    ¡°Did you sleep at all, Auria?¡± Naira asked her in the morning when they made final preparations for the trip and loaded up their cargo on the convoy carriages. Auria chuckled tiredly. ¡°I might have dozed off for a minute or two but¡­ I¡¯ve started to read through the journal. I¡¯ve read only a few pages, but¡­ Naira, it¡¯s insane. Unreal.¡±


    ¡°What do you mean?¡±


    ¡°First of all, I think that the author - the Sphinx - is not from Bashen at all. I don¡¯t think she¡¯s from this world at all. She speaks of conquered stars and worlds, of civilization spanning through the entire universe..¡±


    ¡°Isn¡¯t it possible that you don¡¯t understand her clearly? Foreign language and all?


    Auria shook her head vigorously. ¡°She had written explicitly that the different text will appear if I read it through the projector and if I read it without it. Which, I now realize, sounds like insanity.¡± Auria trailed off slowly, realizing that she took all the new information, the groundbreaking revelations with unnatural calmness. Somehow, she did not even think of doubting what was written in the journal, or that her dreams were somehow real. She realized that her way of life, and all that she knew, was but a hair strand away from being toppled and shattered apart¡­


    She needed to clear her head. She needed to sleep, a dreamless, painless sleep¡­ As she sat on the cushioned seat of the roofed carriage, she quickly started to doze off. Unintentionally, she laid her head against Harian¡¯s broad shoulder, and cradled by the moving carriage¡­


    ¡­her mind woke up in the place she now knew was named Deadvoid.

 Chapter 18 - Deadvoid

    ¡°And so the prodigal daughter returns. Welcome back, Auria.¡± The Creator sat in front of her, again in the same cushioned chair, again with the same cigarette and glass in hand. ¡°How did it feel, the feeding?¡±


    ¡°It was okay.¡± Auria answered nonchalantly, trying not to give up how ecstatic she felt while draining the slaver. ¡°Like a good meal.¡±


    ¡°Really?¡± The Creator¡¯s eyebrows rose. ¡°Either you are lying, or your body and mind mutated so far from mine that it had a much weaker effect on you than it should.¡±


    He knows that I fed, but he doesn¡¯t know everything. Auria smiled brightly. She did not trust him, she did not like him. ¡°What do you want now?¡± She asked him calmly, yet without a hint of friendliness in her voice.


    ¡°I honestly want to help you. You are the only wielder that I can access through dreams - that means that only your sanity has been left¡­ intact so far.¡±


    The only wielder he can access¡­ Only my sanity is intact. That means that my father is¡­


    Auria shivered. ¡°Are there other wielders?¡± She asked innocently. The Creator chuckled. ¡°Ah, so you understand what a wielder is. That means that you already have some source of information regarding your¡­ state. Tell me, who talked to you? Or did you perhaps find something left behind by one of us? Some message from the past?¡± He extinguished the cigarette in his drink and leaned closer to her. ¡°Where did you find the projector you wield?¡±


    Auria felt that she should be intimidated by the man. She felt like everything that happened to her in the past few days should intimidate her - new, highly advanced technology that fell into her lap, messages from the past, the Deadvoid itself¡­


    Strangely, she did not feel any confusion. Instead, she felt like she was re-discovering things hidden from her behind a layer of fog, like everything happening to her now already happened in one form or the other some time in the past. The projector wasn¡¯t exactly new to her, she felt an intuitive connection with it. The words she read from Sphinx¡¯s journal were shocking, but¡­ They were not strange to her. They were not new.


    She thought of something. ¡°An answer for an answer.¡± She demanded, and the creator laughed out loudly. Finally, he spread his arms welcomingly. ¡°Go ahead, ask.¡±


    ¡°How many wielders are there in the world? Sane or not, it does not matter to me.¡±


    The creator closed his eyes for a moment. ¡°Thirty nine, at the moment.¡±


    Auria was shocked. Where were they? How are they hiding, if they are really insane and she is the only one with a bit of sanity left? What are they doing?


    ¡°My turn. What is your source of information on our technology?¡±


    ¡°A book. My turn.¡± Auria answered quickly, and before The Creator could react, she asked. ¡°Can I speak to anyone in Deadvoid, just as I am speaking to you now?¡±


    ¡°Yes. My turn. What kind of book do you get information from?¡±


    ¡°A journal. How can I speak to them?¡±


    ¡°Call them. Who¡¯s journal?¡±


    ¡°Sphinx. How do I cal¡­¡±


    ¡°NO.¡± His voice resonated through her mind, shattering all the calmness that she tried to build up inside. Terror clenched her body and soul, shivers ran down her spine, her limbs trembled and she wished she could cower somewhere in the corner, hidden from him. ¡°WHERE DID YOU FIND THE BOOK? WHERE DID YOU FIND THE PROJECTOR?¡±


    ¡°I¡­ I¡­¡± She could not push words through her mouth, her throat clasped shut, her tongue dried up, stuck to her teeth, unable to move. ¡°I¡­¡±


    ¡°WHERE.¡± The Creator took a heavy step that echoed through the Deadvoid. ¡°DID.¡± Another word accompanied by a soul-shattering step. ¡°YOU.¡± He was coming closer, murderous intent apparent from his color-flickering eyes. ¡°FIND.¡±


    A flash of lightning bolt, a roar of thunder. Darkness. A scream¡­


    ***


    She found herself cowering in the corner of a damp cell. Fungi spread everywhere around her, covering most of the walls and rotting pieces of wood. She was but a child, shivering from fever, her body a roaring furnace. All around her, a heavy smell of decay and decomposition hung in the air, mixed with salty odor of piss and metallic reek of fresh blood. Malformed limbs were scattered on the uneven, liquid-stained cobblestone ground, cut-off tentacles still twitching, broken claws and pincers closing and opening again and again. A scene of slaughter, neglect and horror, with a laughing golden-armored dragon standing above her, covering her in his golden bodily fluids that stung in the fresh cuts on her skin.


    ¡°Leave her be!¡± She heard a familiar voice¡¯s scream, as a large, heavily mutated woman lunged at the golden dragon. Long, sharp tentacles covered in black chitinous spikes pierced the golden dragon¡¯s skin, again and again, mutilating his perfect visage, hiding the gold of his scales behind a veil of crimson. The dragon fell to his knees, gurgling sounds coming from his throat, his blood mixing with the liquid filth on the ground. Another dragon appeared behind the mutated woman, hitting her head from the back with the hilt of his sword, raising the blade to finish her off with one clean hit that would separate her deformed head from the rest of her unnatural body¡­


    You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.


    ¡°NO!¡± Auria screamed, lunging from the corner, stretching her two human hands and one long, metallic limb that shone with blue light towards the dragon. ¡°ROT!¡± She screamed. ROT! she thought.


    ***


    The Creator stopped, and coughed. A single cough, where oily black phlegm spat from his mouth. Auria stood in front of him defiantly, her projector stretched towards him, shining wildly. She felt the energy surging towards her, draining everything around her, absorbing all the darkness of the Deadvoid with the metallic arm. She felt the energy radiating from The Creator and it was hers to take, and she did not hesitate. The Creator fell to his knees, black oil pouring from his mouth and nose, his eyes blinking wildly. ¡°What are you doing you bitch?¡± He hissed. Auria felt the internal, mind-killing and soul-tearing rot spreading through The Creator¡¯s formless body, and she wished for it to spread no further.


    ¡°It¡¯s your creation.¡± She said, waving the projector in front of his mad eyes. ¡°You tell me.¡±


    ¡°It is no work of mine! I have never created such inelegant, plague-spewing filth! You wield no work of mine!¡± Her voice changed between growling and hissing forth and back, but there was something else¡­ A note of fear.


    ¡°Yet It can infect you with a rot of my own design.¡± Auria muttered. ¡°It can kill you.¡±


    ¡°I am already dead!¡± He cried towards her, half terrified, half tormented by his essence being consumed by the mind rot.


    ¡°Nothing to be afraid of then.¡± Auria smiled cruelly. Where does this come from? What am I doing?


    She shuddered and willed for the rot inside The Creator to disappear. After a brief moment, the oil stopped seething from the man¡¯s face.


    ¡°What are you? How are you doing this? This realm, this world¡­ It is not possible to alter the minds and souls of the dead!¡± He cried desperately.


    ¡°Apparently not.¡± Auria said. ¡°Who was Sphinx? Speak, or I will destroy you.¡±


    ¡°A bitch, a mind-killing whore, the murderer of worlds, The Death, The Dustbringer, the entropy itself!¡± Each word he said, he said with disgust, contempt and spite. ¡°She is the prodigy, she is The Wielder, the first, and supposedly the last. She is my greatest work, and my greatest failure.¡±


    ¡°Is? She¡¯s alive then?¡± Auria took her eyes off of The Creator, and in that instant, he took the opportunity to disappear. She was left alone, in the darkness which did not seem so alien, terrifying and claustrophobic suddenly. She felt only calmness, and silence. Sphinx is alive¡­


    ***


    Crowds of refugees walked the opposite way Iarvahr was traveling - the diseased, the lost, the poor and the dying filled the main roads connecting Glaeria and The Lands of the Citadel. He paid them almost no attention, save for a few instances when they begged for something from him, touching his armor-clad boots or the edge of his cloak. Each of them died in a single sweep of his axe. He had no time for mercy nor for charity. The only thing that mattered was Leonie.


    He even met a small patrol of Glaerian soldiers, and although they paid him no attention, he did not leave them alone. Death to Glaeria. Death to all you fucking golden-clad monstrosities.


    Empty husks of three soldiers laid next to the frequent road that evening, only their bones gleaming in the setting sun, their paper-thin, dried skin shattering into dust particles in the soft breeze.


    No stops. No distractions. Death to Glaeria.


    He continued quickly. He did not need to eat, he did not need to drink. All he needed was a fresh horse. A dead stableboy here, a drained soldier there¡­ It did not matter.


    Somewhere, deep inside Iarvahr¡¯s mind, a small piece of his former self screamed - the last remnants of his sanity, trying to hold onto what was gradually being lost.


    ***


    Auria woke up well rested. The calmness of the Deadvoid felt rather refreshing after the disappearance of The Creator, and, after a very long time, she actually enjoyed the rest of her sleep.


    ¡°Good morning.¡± Harian said to her, smiling. ¡°It seems you¡¯ve slept well.¡±


    Auria nodded and yawned. ¡°How long was I asleep?¡±


    ¡°A day and a half. We are well on the way, almost at the Glaerian border.¡±


    Auria raised her eyebrows. ¡°That long, huh¡­¡± Shelooked around the empty carriage. ¡°Where is Naira and Suranihr?¡±


    ¡°Out. We¡¯ve stopped.¡± Harian sighed.


    ¡°Why?¡±


    Harian nodded towards the door. ¡°See for yourself.¡±


    Auria opened the door and looked outside. High up on the carriage, she was able to see through above the crowds of people, thousands of bodies strong. ¡°What¡¯s happening?¡± She asked, panicked.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know, Auria. They are refugees. And all of them have only one destination in mind - The Citadel.¡±


    Auria looked at the crowd. A barrier was formed between their convoy and the refugees made of hundreds of Citadel¡¯s border guards. Everywhere she looked, she saw desperate faces - men, women, children, all of them filthy, poor and¡­


    She felt it. She felt the contagion rampaging through the crowd, a wild sickness, something not natural, something¡­ Designed. She felt the unnaturalness of the violent, volatile plague that spread unchecked through the crowd, waiting to explode, waiting to maim, cripple and paralyze its hosts¡­ after a time. The crowd was a ticking bomb, waiting to be set off by¡­ something.


    ¡°No..¡± She whispered, but then her voice increased in loudness. ¡°No, they can¡¯t be allowed into The Citadel, they are contagious, they are diseased! They will infect the whole town!¡±


    ¡°Calm down, Auria.¡± Naira and Suranihr walked to her from the nearby carriage. ¡°What¡¯s wrong?¡±


    ¡°They are diseased, they carry something vile, something designed to¡­¡±


    A single stone hit one of the border guards, opening the skin on his head. A reply to the stone was the gunshot from the border guard, and a woman fell on her knees, screaming from pain. The crowd reacted, a huge tidal wave of unwashed, filthy, diseased bodies hurled itself towards the barrier made of Citadel soldiers. Bullets, bombs and blades, although highly effective, were not enough to stop the onslaught of refugees, and guards died, suffocated under the weight of thousands of bodies.


    ¡°Move out!¡± Suranihr cried over the roaring refugees. ¡°Move!¡± He shouted at the convoy horse masters. ¡°Ram through the crowd, go!¡± Naira shoved Auria inside the coach and herself jumped in. Harian, on the other hand, ran out and shut the door behind them. Both women were thrown against the cushioned seatings inside, as the coach suddenly jumped forward.

 Chapter 19 - Burn the witch, love the whore

    Suranihr did everything in his power to hold on to a racing coach. He was used to being on a ship at sea, and although large waves often made it almost impossible to keep his balance, it was never this erratic and quick. Everything shook as horse-drawn wheels rattled against the cobbled road, and a constant hiss of a small steam engine that helped to move the wheels now only helped to make his senses overwhelmed.


    Harian did not seem bothered at all. He held the decorative railing of the coach roof, crouched, adeptly keeping balance with every shake of the carriage. He held his pistol in the second hand, trying to pick targets to shoot at but¡­


    There were too many. Their convoy plowed through the refugees as if through snow, some lucky ones were able to jump away from the wheels and hooves, but more of them were simply rammed through and ended up dying next to the paved road.


    ¡°How the fuck are you holding on so easily, soldier?¡± Suranihr shouted at Harian. The soldier just chuckled. ¡°Practice makes perfect, sailor.¡±


    ¡°What the fuck were you doing before this?


    Harian¡¯s smile widened. ¡°Guard duty.¡±


    Suranihr kept cursing, trying to get a better hold but his grip kept slipping. His focus was disturbed with a sudden thud, when a thrown pitchfork impaled the carriage driver against the front wall of their coach. He died quickly, and the control over the horses was lost.


    ¡°Help me!¡± Harian shouted, trying to pull the carriage driver away from his seat. Suranihr had no idea how he was able to help the soldier, but together, they pulled the man down from the coach and Harian took the reins. He handed his gun to Suranihr. ¡°Shoot at them! Bows, pitchforks, even long fucking sticks, kill whomever you see that could throw something¡­¡±


    Hailstorm of rocks started to fall on the coach, and Harian kept cursing. ¡°Kill them fucking all for what I care!¡± Suranihr started to shoot into the crowd without really aiming, hoping that the thundering blasts from the pistol would disperse the crowd a little bit at least, yet to no avail. He quickly ran out of ammunition, and the only thing he could shoot at the crowd were shouts about their mothers being whores.


    The carriage in front of them kept slowing down until it came to a complete stop. Refugees crawled all over the coach like ants, reaching everything and everyone, trying to overpower the defenses.


    Harian did not hesitate and stopped their own coach close to the one that was being attacked. Without skipping a heartbeat, he leapt from the driver¡¯s seat and in a whirlwind of blades, he sliced through the refugee crowds, leaving a path of blood and cut-off limbs behind him. Suranihr cursed. Where the fuck did he get that blade from? he thought to himself. He stayed behind, repelling every hand that reached for their carriage.


    The carriage door started to open. ¡°Stay inside!¡± he tried to shout, but before the words left his mouth, a small bright globe launched from the inside of the coach. He quickly turned his gaze away, knowing exactly what to expect from a light bomb.


    A small sun appeared above the crowd. Blinding flash of light burned the refugees around, leaving them staggering around, screaming in confusion. ¡°Should have expected that from a mechanic.¡± Suranihr muttered to himself, cleaving through the crowd and heaping the coach door free of danger.


    ¡°Did it help?¡± Naira shouted through a slit in the doors.


    ¡°It did, but there are still too many of them that weren¡¯t blinded.¡± Suranihr hollered back. ¡°Can you do any other tricks?¡±


    ¡°Yes, but it seems we have a problem.¡±


    ¡°Just one problem?¡± Harian asked, returning with a wounded guard from the other carriage. Half of his head was scalped from a lucky hit. ¡°Passengers died before I came.¡± He answered the unasked question.


    ¡°The steam engine malfunctioned, from what I can hear.¡± She said, nodding her head towards a creaking and clanking engine. ¡°It will be next to impossible to move this carriage through the crowd with just horses. It¡¯s too heavy.¡±


    ¡°Would it be too heavy if we took the engine down?¡± Suranihr asked quickly and, without waiting for an answer, Harian leapt to the back of the carriage and tried to get the engine down. Meanwhile, Auria peeked from the inside. ¡°Get the guard here.¡± She said and hurried to heal his wound. Combining both the power of the projector and her own wits and experience, the guard was soon smiling at her thankfully.


    The blindness started to fade from the people around them, and the furious roaring of the crowd intensified. Hordes of filthy people - now wary of possible danger - moved slowly towards the group.


    ¡°What now?¡± Auria asked.


    ***


    ¡°Another dead¡­ God around us, without your help, I don¡¯t know how I would manage.¡± Old morgue keeper coughed and smelled the leather pouch filled with holy incense. ¡°Dark times await us, Marias. Put him on the table.¡±


    ¡°Why?¡± Heers asked. ¡°We are healthy.¡± He added with a hint of simplicity and stupidity in his voice.


    Morgue keeper coughed again and spat a phlegm on the ground. ¡°This is very unusual and unnatural, this illness that¡¯s spreading. The god either punishes us for something, or he makes us undergo yet another of his tests.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not ill.¡± Heers said loudly and stood tall. ¡°I am helping.¡±


    ¡°Yes, yes, you are. But I need to rest. Come, help me dress this last body into the burial gown.¡±


    After they dressed the dead man, Heers left the morgue and went for his temporary home, whistling while walking. Queen Anaid managed to pay for him to have a single, private room in the somewhat decent tavern in the old town - the poorest part of golden city - and he was actually grateful to her. Seeing the filth, death and decay all around him, both while working in the morgue and walking through the streets, he started to appreciate the simple things, such as almost clean blankets and straw mattresses. A significant decline over his former life as a High Lord, but he did manage to make the most of it.


    This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.


    Before he went to his room, he stopped to bathe in the underground bathhouse of the tavern. The water was warm and scented, and he brushed the reek of death from himself very thoroughly, looking for any possible signs of spreading disease.


    When he unlocked his room and passed the doorway, a strong, sweet smell caught his attention. He quickly glanced around the room and saw a woman sitting in the shadows near the farthest wall.


    ¡°Be calm, Marias.¡± She whispered in an unknown voice. ¡°Close the door.¡±


    He obeyed and after closing the door and locking them, he turned towards her. ¡°Who are you?¡±


    ¡°A mutual acquaintance sent me.¡± The woman whispered softly. ¡°Light the fire, please. It¡¯s cold here, and I¡¯m barely wearing anything.¡±


    Heers obeyed again and after a short, silent while, the fire roared in the firepit, filling the room with dim light and warmth.


    ¡°Does Anai¡­¡±


    ¡°No names.¡± The woman whispered and walked towards him. Now, with at least some light in the room, Heers could see that there indeed was barely any clothing on the woman. She was covered by a thin, see-through dress cut up front to reveal her soft belly, and with embroidered flowers that - as she walked - brushed against the hard nipples on her large breasts. She walked through him, put arms around his neck and stuck a tongue into his mouth. Surprised, Heers pushed her away, but she held him firmly. ¡°Play along.¡± she whispered, and kissed him passionately. After a few seconds of kissing and undressing, she led him to bed and made him lay on his back. She sat on him and as he entered her hot and wet cunt, she moaned loudly and collapsed into his embrace. ¡°Moan while I speak.¡± She said, and Heers obliged.


    ¡°There has been a development.¡± The woman whispered into his ear as they copulated. ¡°Queen suspects Victon has created some sort of plague, and that he forced the infected people form border villages to seek refuge in the Citadel. Have you encountered something suspicious during your work in the morgue? Moan louder if yes.¡±


    Heers cried out, a sound of pure pleasure and bliss. Although he now knew what was the purpose of this visit, he had to admit that he enjoyed himself thoroughly.


    ¡°Speak.¡± She whispered, and started to moan loudly.


    ¡°The number of dead is increasing every day, all felled by some disease that neither me, nor the morgue keeper has ever seen. He said that bodies with signs of this plague started to appear several months ago, but in much smaller numbers. He also said that the disease is not transferred from the dead, only from the living.¡± Again, he started to moan so that the woman could speak.


    ¡°Try to learn as much as you can. Queen suspects that Victon will use this disease to further blackmail both Malorea and Antigan. Although, Xanwryn is stuck up Victon¡¯s ass so deeply that only his soles dangle out, so there Malorean people should be safe..¡±


    ¡°Why are you acting like a whore, how do you konw so much? Unghh¡­I¡¯m not going to last much longer¡­¡± Heers whimpered, and the woman silenced him with a long kiss, making him erupt inside of her. ¡°I¡¯ve got the seed of high lord in me.¡± She whispered softly as he let out heavy breaths. ¡°Too bad I¡¯m barren. See you soon, Marias.¡± She said loudly, as she took three silver coins from the table that Heers certainly did not put there. As she closed the door behind her, he was left alone in the darkness, with only his thoughts keeping him company.


    ***


    ¡°People! Refugees! Do you really want to risk your lives? How could attacking us help you?¡± Suranihr shouted at the crowd, yet only raised fists and shouting answered him. At least, they did not advance and held their distance. Auria had a hard time concentrating - feeling so much disease around her made her throat tighten and her heart beat very quickly. She tried to focus on words, on particular voices, to discern at least something from the ruckus around.


    ¡°Give us all you¡¯ve got!¡±


    ¡°Leave your weapons to us!¡±


    ¡°We are dying, we need help!¡±


    ¡°We are hungry!¡±


    Auria stood in front of the group. ¡°I am medic!¡± She shouted loudly. ¡°Who needs my help, form a line! One by one!¡±


    People from the crowd hurried towards her, not caring about any sort of order, only to be the first to be healed. Auria took hold of the first person and took him behind the barrier made by Harian, Suranihr and the third guard. Atop the carriage, Naira sat with a long rifle in her hands.


    Auria closed her eyes and put her hands on the woman. Slowly and carefully, she tried to see the woman through the projector and as the metallic arm rose from behind her back, the woman screamed and thrashed. Auria held her firmly, and looked inside her, trying to burn out the disease piece by piece.


    ¡°A witch!¡±


    ¡°A monster!¡±


    ¡°She¡¯s a demon! She¡¯s going to eat the soul of that woman!¡±


    ¡°Burn the witch in the name of the god!¡±


    With that last shout leaving the throat of the older woman in the crowd, the mass of the people moved. A sound of an exploding grenade thrown by Naira returned Auria to the horrifying reality around her. ¡°No! I¡¯m trying to help! This is just the tool! I¡¯ve healed her, look at her!¡±


    ¡°Witch, witch!¡± Screamed the now-healthy woman. ¡°She¡¯s a witch!¡±


    ¡°Burn the witch!¡± The crowd screamed as they pushed against whirling blades of three men in front of Auria. Naira kept throwing explosives into the crowd and although they were highly effective, there were simply too many people around them.


    Rocks started to fly. An arrow was shot, piercing Naira¡¯s shoulder, making her drop to her knees. The unknown guardsman was dead, and both Harian and Suranihr were covered in blood from head to toes. Auria did not know whose blood it was, and a panic started to settle in. She wasn¡¯t scared for herself, but she refused to let her companions die while protecting her. She did not know what to do, and a searing pain in her thigh made her cry out. The woman that Auria healed before had her face twisted with fanatic rage, and she stabbed Auria with a rusty knife.


    ¡°What are you doing?¡± Auria cried out as warm blood ran from her leg. The woman raised her arm to stab again, yet Auria was quicker and she impaled the woman with the projector, draining her in the process.


    All the nerves in her body were tingling, the ecstasy of life intoxicating Auria¡¯s senses. She felt as if she could do anything, as if she alone could turn the tide of unwashed, diseased people around them away in a single release of pure, unrestrained power¡­


    Suranihr shouted curses, bone shining from his opened arm.


    Release¡­


    Harian fought wordlessly, quick as a cat, limping on his right leg with the hilt of a knife sticking out of it¡­


    ¡­the¡­


    Naira was kneeling, trying to unbuckle the grenade with shaking hands, when another arrow hit her, this time piercing through her belly.


    ¡­energy.


    That was the last drop. They did not do anything wrong. They tried to help. She healed the woman, and she was hailed as a witch. Just for helping someone, she was cursed and condemned to burn? Only because she helped the woman with a tool sticking out of her back?


    No. She refused to see her close ones die. She focused her will, her burning rage, the pure hatred and contempt she felt for the blood-crazed crowd into a single thought. She remembered Lakar, as he burned everything he looked at, as he scorched with the projector¡­ She knew that the projector could do it, that it could burn, incinerate, scorch, and she wanted it.


    Burn.


    She wanted it.


    Burn.


    She craved it.


    Burn.


    She willed it.


    BURN!


    She released it¡­

 Chapter 20 - All that’s left

    The feeling of raw power surging through her veins flooded her body with pure pleasure. It felt like a first kiss of true love that sent shivers down her spine, the one that she remembered for all years to come¡­ It felt like a sip of water after three days of thirst, like a first bite of food after weeks of starvation¡­ She was on the edge, feeling on the verge of an almost sexual climax, tingling within all of her nerves, she was ready to release all the built up pressure out of her body¡­


    Then, the release came, and the pleasure turned to torment. The orgasmic excitement turned into pure, raw pain, the power coursing through her body turned into caustic bile and she felt sick in her stomach, balancing on the verge of vomiting and losing consciousness.  It hurt everywhere, her limbs felt like they bent and broke, her bones shattered into a million small pieces that dug deep into her flesh, her organs trying to claw their way out of her body, and her heart sent another fresh dose of acid to her veins¡­ But the worst of all was the pain she felt in the projector.


    It burned. There was no other way to describe it, just a feeling of wild, unquenchable flames engulfing the projector, and she felt it more than she felt anything else. It screamed, a tormenting scream of agony, that of a misused and abused soul, forced to do things it was never meant to do¡­


    Although the blood-crazed refugees could not see it, the witch  indeed burned. She stood, her limbs spread as if she was nailed to a cross, her mouth open wide and soul-shattering and ear-piercing screams of unbound agony filled the ears of every person around her in a wide radius.


    Everything and everyone stopped, stunned by Auria¡¯s scream. All the eyes turned towards her, thousands of hands covered the ears¡­


    The witch opened her eyes and looked at the crowd. Where her eyes fell, the projector¡¯s gaze followed and with it, burning death came.


    The refugees were obliterated by scores as they fell where they stood. Auria''s gaze burned through them like a torch flame through thin paper, leaving nothing but piled limbs and corpses cut into pieces by the intense scorch of the projector. She made but one sweep of her eyes through the crowd and hundreds died, soundlessly.


    She collapsed, face down into bloody mud under her feet.


    ***


    Crackling of fire woke her up. She looked around confused, until Suranihr¡¯s worried gaze caught her attention. ¡°What happened¡­¡± she whispered through dry mouth.


    ¡°Drink.¡± Suranihr said softly, pressing a leather flask against her lips. She drank, each swallow a handful of needles piercing and scratching her throat.


    She thanked him and tried to pull herself up. Never in her life she felt so tired, her movements slowed down as if her limbs were lead. With Captain¡¯s help, she managed to sit and take a proper look around. They were in a camp, and six Citadel-made white tents of heavy cloth were erected around them. ¡°Where are we? Where is Naira?¡±


    Feed.


    ¡°After you¡­¡± Words caught in his throat for a moment, as his eyes flickered over her face. He coughed, and continued. ¡°Soon after you collapsed, another carriage of our convoy caught up with us. Refugees left us alone - they were too afraid of you - and so we were able to take you and Naira away¡­¡±


    ¡°Where is she?¡± Through pain and protests of her body, Auria stood up. ¡°I need to see her.¡±


    ¡°She¡¯s¡­ resting.¡± Suranihr nodded towards the nearest tent. ¡°Harian is with her.¡±


    ***


    ¡°I took the arrows out, cleaned her wounds, but the infection is spreading. First of all, the arrowheads were coated by some filth that inflamed her wounds. Second, her intestines were pierced. I did what I could, but¡­¡±


    Auria held her friend¡¯s cold arm. She was pale, cold and sweaty on the¡­


    Feed.


    ¡­ verge of death. ¡°I am no medic, Auria, I did what I could but¡­¡± Hairan trailed off. ¡°I don¡¯t know how to save her. Luckily, you woke up and you can use your¡­ power. ¡° Harian smiled reassuringly but refused to meet her eyes, trying to hide the terror he felt from the projector.


    Auria knew he was right, but she¡­


    Feed!


    ¡­ also knew that she was depleted. She used everything, every last drop of energy that was stored in the projector, and she felt as if the projector even drained her a bit.


    ¡°I need to power it up first.¡± She said in a cold, emotionless voice, as if she described how to make a straight incision. ¡°I need to feed on somebody, and quickly. She might not last much longer.¡±


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    ¡°Auria, there is no one to feed upon.¡± Suranihr said slowly. ¡°No murderers, rapists, slavers here, just the rest of our convoy.¡±


    ¡°One of them then.¡± She said, mercilessly. Suranihr blinked in surprise. ¡°You¡¯d kill one of our own to ¡­¡±


    Feed!


    ¡°... yourself? What the fuck, Auria?¡±


    ¡°She is all that I have left.¡± Auria hissed. ¡°My father is mad, running fuck knows where with three of these insane things sticking out of his body. Who else is there?¡± Auria looked at them both, but each refused to meet her gaze. ¡°That¡¯s right, nobody.¡± She said as she walked from the tent, rage fueling her body, pushing the pain away.


    Out of the tent, she sighed. Of course she would not kill one from their convoy, she was not a¡­


    FEED!


    ¡°SHUT UP!¡± She screamed at the voice inside her. She grabbed the projector into her hands, squeezing as if strangling it.¡°SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP! I KNOW!¡±


    ¡°Is everything alright, mistress?¡± A soft voice asked her. Young woman stood right next to her. Auria turned, her projector reaching out¡­


    She took three steps away from the girl as she realized half her body was bandaged up with blood seeping through the cloth. ¡°What happ¡­¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m alright, mistress. The dinner will be ready soon. I¡¯ve cooked from what we¡¯ve been able to salvage, so don¡¯t expect¡­¡±


    ¡°Why won¡¯t you look at me?¡± Auria asked, irritated. Woman shrugged. ¡°I¡¯m just a camp¡¯s cook, mistress. Come eat while it¡¯s hot.¡±


    For a brief time, Auria was standing alone in the dark. Night¡¯s chill helped her to clear her mind a little bit, to focus. She realized her own stupidity, thinking about feeding upon someone¡¯s life to heal Naira instead of doing what she did her whole life. She returned to the tent, before anything else, she asked them whether they needed any medical attention. After reassuring her that they were alright,  Auria asked both men to fetch her chest with medical supplies that she packed. While they were gone, she spoke.


    ¡°I know you can hear me. Don¡¯t act deaf.¡± Auria washed her hands with fresh water from the nearby bucket. ¡°You¡¯ve been through much worse than this, we both know that.¡±


    She moved towards her wounded friend, observing her shallow breaths. ¡°Remember how we met? I was young and alone, cast out¡­ And children can be cruel, as we both know.¡± Auria chuckled. ¡°I still remember the stone you threw at Navarr when he tried to pull down my dress in front of all the other children from the day school. Then, I never would have even imagined you two ending up together, wed, with a child on the way¡­¡±


    Suranihr and Harian brought the chest and put it down on a table close to Auria. She nodded thankfully, and sent them away with a nod of her head.


    ¡°I am really sorry, Naira. For everything you must have endured¡­ I¡¯m sorry that we were too late to save Navarr. I¡­ I¡¯ve never been so close with someone to even say that I love him, you know. Other than you and my father, of course.¡± Auria sighed, a single tear running down her cheek. ¡°I can¡¯t even imagine how you must have felt that day, finding his mutilated, burnt¡­ dissolved body¡­¡± Auria took a needle filled with potent narcotic designed specifically to help people function through tremendous pain. She pulled up her left sleeve, and when she went to inject herself, she noticed that her veins were unusually swollen and¡­ black? She ran the fingers across her upper forearm, where the swelling ended, and she followed the bulged veins up her biceps towards her shoulder. There was no pain, no strange sensation. ¡®I will deal with this later.¡¯ She thought to herself as she injected the narcotic into her blackened vein. Chill spread through her body, slowly pushing the pain away with each beat of her heart.


    ¡°And then, right there, next to his corpse, your miscarriage¡­¡± Auria turned back towards Naira with three different syringes and vials of liquid, a set of scalpels and a sewing kit. ¡°I¡¯ve never wanted children, I can¡¯t imagine myself in the role of a mother but you¡­ then, I felt like you were the mother of us both. Both me and Navarr¡­ Kind of twisted of you to let him fuck you now that I think about it.¡± Auria chuckled through tears. She injected the first syringe filled with bright light liquid into Naira¡¯s left arm. ¡°Usually, I would say to the victim that this will hurt, but you have endured much, much worse.¡±


    As she slowly dropped the contents of one vial - a gray, oily liquid that sizzled where it hit Naira¡¯s wounds - she talked more. ¡°I know that you wish I left you to die, then and there, next to your husband and your child. You have lost Navarr, and you have lost all that he had left you, your child. The last piece of him, of your future, gone¡­ But, I am selfish. You are all that I have left in this world, Naira, and I love you. Whatever may have happened, you never left me alone, and you always made me feel welcome.¡± Using one big, empty syringe, Auria sucked away the filth that gray liquid left in Naira¡¯s wounds. ¡°You¡¯ve never left me, and I will never leave you. I¡¯ll bleed for you, I¡¯ll kill for you. Just fucking survive this, Naira.¡±


    Wounded woman still did not react.


    ¡°I know that you can hear me.¡± Auria said again. ¡°And I promise you this¡­¡± She leaned close to Naira¡¯s ears, and whispered. ¡°There is a way to speak to the dead, and with your help, I will find it. And then, you may speak to Navarr again.¡±


    A weak shiver ran through Naira¡¯s body, and Auria smiled, as she injected the second vial into her friend - now filled with clear liquid -  and continued to thoroughly clean up Naira¡¯s wounds. ¡°Told you I knew you could hear me.¡±


    ***


    Morro stood on the bridge of cruiser Luthra, indirectly overlooking the repairs of the ship. ¡°I don¡¯t know why you¡¯ve allowed him to leave.¡± He growled towards Triarch Argyl.


    ¡°He made a good point that it would be very unwise to let Iarvahr run away with such a prized tools.¡±


    Morro grunted. ¡°You should have sent stalkers after him.¡±


    ¡°I did, don¡¯t worry. There is at least one and although I did not give him a straight order, he protects the commander''s daughter, and I feel that there will be a confrontation of sorts between them.¡±


    ¡°You seem to enjoy this machinations and intrigues much more than you admit.¡±


    Agryl smiled for a moment, but his face turned serious. ¡°You think those beasts you¡¯ve met could really attack from the sea?¡±


    Morro nodded. ¡°I really deem it necessary to find a way of surveying not just above the water, but also below it. We need to be prepared.¡±


    Argyl sighed. ¡°I¡¯ll move some orders and funds around. Right now, resources and manpower are rather tight¡­ You owe me, Morro.¡±


    ¡°Everybody owes something to everybody these days.¡± Morro murmured, just out of the reach of Argyl¡¯s ears.

 Chapter 21 - To hate the enemy

    She sat alone near the fire, warming up her aching hands and fingers. Taking care of Naira¡¯s wounds was much harder and took a lot longer than she expected - as Harian said, the arrowheads were indeed coated by some vile filth that quickly infected Naira¡¯s wounds. Dark thoughts crept up Auria¡¯s mind, and she kept thinking about why such a large number of refugees went for the Citadel, and if they were indeed just refugees or perhaps something entirely else¡­


    She noticed that people around the camp kept averting their gazes, trying too hard to not look at her. She felt like an outcast, yet she wasn¡¯t entirely sure why.


    ¡°May I?¡± Suranihr¡¯s voice broke her web of thoughts, and she nodded. ¡°Sit. Just try to be less obvious by not looking at my face.¡±


    ¡°Auria I¡­¡± he sighed and stopped for a moment, but finally he sat down heavily, tired and aching. ¡°I¡¯m sorry. Does it hurt?¡±


    ¡°Does what hurt?¡± She asked, confused. ¡°I¡¯m tired, and I feel ravenous hunger eating me from inside. The arm wishes for me to feed it, and honestly I need to focus a lot of my will to not devour you where you sit.¡± Looking at his raised eyebrows, she realized that she did not answer what he was actually asking. ¡°What is going on? Why won¡¯t anybody look at me?¡±


    ¡°You¡­ You don¡¯t know. You don¡¯t remember?¡±


    ¡°Remember what?¡±


    ***


    Auria fell, her face buried in the bloody mud. Screams of agony filled the air all around Suranihr as he looked around the carnage caused by the fallen medic. ¡°What the fuck¡­¡± He muttered to himself.


    ¡°Couldn¡¯t say it in better words.¡± Harian spat blood on the ground, keeping his eyes focused on mutilated corpses around. ¡°They are cut through, clean cuts, cauterized. Have you seen something like this ever before?¡±


    Suranihr nodded. ¡°Once. I¡¯ve seen such wounds when we¡¯ve captured a slaver ship from Ladrurg¡­ They used to cut fingers, ears, noses, whatever came under their blades¡­ They heated up the blades in fire, and cut off body parts with them, so that the slaves wouldn''t bleed out.¡±


    ¡°Disgusting.¡± Harian muttered. He turned around. ¡°Oh fuck, Naira!¡± He shouted as he ran towards the kneeling mechanic. She was still atop the chariot, clenching her long rifle in one hand, tugging on the arrow sticking out from her belly with the other. ¡°Suranihr, help Auria.¡± Harian commanded as he ran towards the mechanic.


    As he walked towards her, Auria rose from the mud, wiping away the bloody mud from her face with sleeves of her robe. She looked at Suranihr, and he winced.


    Left half of her face was crossed with a network of black veins trailing from her neck up to her left eye, darkening it to a color of anthracite. She held his gaze, unmoving, unflinching. Something primal hid there, something wild and dark. He moved closer to her slowly. ¡°Auria, are you..¡±


    She made four quick steps back, pressing her back against the carriage. ¡°Don¡¯t touch me!¡± She screamed in a child-like voice. ¡°Leave me be!¡± She switched her gaze towards Harian, standing between him and Naira. ¡°Leave her!¡± Turning her head towards kneeling Naira, she screamed. ¡°Mom, what do they want? What have they done to you? Mom!¡±


    Naira coughed and bloody droplets spat from her mouth. ¡°Auria¡­¡± She wheezed.


    ¡°Leave us!¡± Auria screamed.


    ¡°She¡¯s dying, Auria.¡± Harian said calmly. ¡°Let me pass to help her.¡±


    Two citadel carriages came, whistling of steam engines accompanying the hoofbeats.  Three citadel guards jumped down and hurried towards the group.


    ¡°NO!¡± Auria screamed. ¡°Leave us alone! We haven¡¯t done anything to you!¡± She screamed, tears trailing from her eyes.


    ¡°Calm down, Auria. We want to help you.¡± Suranihr made another slow step towards her, and something primal awakened in Auria. She screamed, fury and rage in her voice present as much as fear and panic, her projector spread towards him. ¡°MOVE AWAY!¡± She screamed, and Suranihr felt a wave of nausea pass through him. ¡°ROT!¡± She screamed as her projector shone with bright light.


    Suranihr fell to his knees, sudden weakness overpowering his muscles and joints. As quickly as it brightened up, the projector faded away and Auria lost consciousness again. With her fallen on the ground, Suranihr¡¯s weakness was gone and he hurried towards her.


    ***


    ¡°I attacked you?¡± Auria asked, frightened. ¡°How? Why? What..¡±


    ¡°Doesn¡¯t matter. Although, Harian advised me to ask you for a healing, to¡­ remove anything that you put into me. Honestly, I feel like vomiting my guts out.¡±


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    ¡°I did¡­ Fuck. Fuck!.¡± She muttered. ¡°I need to feed the projector. I¡­ I have no idea what I put into you. Where are we? Is there a village or a town nearby? Some place where we could find someone¡­¡±


    ¡°Everything around us is abandoned. That¡¯s where the refugees came from.¡± Suranihr said calmly. ¡°I¡¯m not dying, not yet, and after your care, Naira will survive. There is still enough time.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m so sorry, Suranihr. I¡­ I don¡¯t¡­¡±


    ¡°Maybe it runs in your family.¡± Suranihr tried to enlighten the mood. ¡°First Iarvahr almost killed me, now you did¡­ something. I wonder what your child will do to me in time.¡±


    ¡°No worries there.¡± Auria muttered. ¡°Still, we need to hurry. Where is Harian? Did I attack him too?¡±


    Suranihr shook his head, and finally raised his eyes towards Auria. He looked at her once beautiful face, now scarred and twisted with a web of black veins, her dark eye piercing through his skin, staring right into his soul. He shuddered. ¡°In the morning, Auria. We all need to rest.¡±


    ¡°But¡­¡±


    ¡°In the morning, Auria.¡±


    ***


    She did not sleep, fear eating her from the inside. She kept thinking about what happened, what might have happened, and what will happen once she loses control again. Maybe I already lost control, maybe something more happened which they did not tell me¡­


    As soon as the first sun rays shone through the thick canopy of leaves above their head, Auria went to wake Harian up. Realizing that he wasn¡¯t sleeping, she handed him a cup of freshly brewed tea. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, soldier. I guess that I have fallen deep in your eyes.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve seen worse, Auria. Nothing to apologize for, not yet.¡± He took the cup and sipped eagerly. ¡°Do you need something from me?.¡±


    Auria nodded, and after a mere minutes, they both sat atop two carriage horses, following the road south.


    ¡°Towns and villages are deserted. We need to find something else. A farmstead, perhaps, or some hermit in the woods.¡± Harian said as they looked down from a small hill, surveying the land ahead.


    ¡°I won¡¯t kill an innocent.¡±


    Harian laughed. ¡°That crowd that tried to burn you like a witch, that crowd that tried to tear me and Suranihr apart, that crowd that pierced Naira, they were the innocents. Civilians, refugees.¡± He turned his hard face towards Auria. ¡°No Glaerian is innocent. They keep their heads low, bowing to their cunt of a merciful god, prayer on their lips, torch in their hands. To ¡®burn the witch¡¯ is a rather common practice in these fucking lands.¡± He spat on the gorund. ¡°Pick whomever you want. Kill them all, I couldn¡¯t care less.¡±


    ¡°You really hate them that much?¡±


    Harian nodded. ¡°I¡¯ve spent much of my life in this land. I could count decent Glaerians that I¡¯ve met on the hand of a three-fingered butcher. And even they sucked the balls of their benevolent cunt of a god.¡±


    ¡°Do you want to speak about it?¡± She asked, calmly. He shook his head. ¡°I¡¯m not allowed to.¡± As they looked round, Harian sniffed. ¡°Smoke. Follow me.¡± He ordered her, and she obeyed, hurrying the horse behind him. The smoke trail led them to a forest and before they entered, Harian stopped his horse.


    ¡°Wait for me here, I¡¯ll scout ahead. If anyone comes, feed upon him. Protect yourself. Here.¡± He handed a revolving pistol to her, but she shook her head. ¡°I have my own means.¡± She said to him, and Harian just shrugged. ¡°I¡¯m inclined to believe that. Now wait here.¡±


    As she waited, she kept thinking, nervously looking around herself. What happened to him in the past that he hates Glaeria so much? Even after all that she¡¯s been through, after she saw the cruelty in famished eyes of Antigan people during the pandemic, even after she saw the mercilessness of Kryotans in their war against the whispers, she never could have imagined to hate a whole land of people so much as Harian did¡­


    Although¡­


    Cowering in the corner of the room, hugging the mutilated corpse of a malformed human, piss stinging in her fresh wounds¡­


    She shivered, barely comprehensible dream-memory flaring up in her mind. Golden clad dragons¡­ She thought to herself.


    It has been almost half an hour, and she started to think about following Harian into the woods, when muffled sobs caught her attention. Harian was returning through the woods dragging a bound and gagged man on a leash behind him. The man wore heavy  purple robes embroidered with golden and silver thread. His head was covered in short brown hair and his bright blue eyes shone with tears that ran down his cheeks right into the rope gag he was silenced with.


    ¡°Kill him.¡± Harian muttered. Auria noticed that he was covered in a lot of blood, looking more like a demon than human. ¡°Kill him, eat him, do whatever the fuck you want with him. But I beg you, make him suffer. Make him feel it all.¡±


    ¡°Who is that?¡± Auria asked.


    ¡°A rapist. A murderer. A slaver. An enemy.¡± Harian was breathing heavily, apparently straining himself by keeping his blade sheathed and not buried inside of the man¡¯s body.


    ¡°How do you know that?¡± Auria asked, curious. She had to admit, she was only half interested in the answer. Hearing that the man was a rapist and a murderer was almost enough to lose all the control and to let the projector feed itself.


    Harian looked at her, hellfire in his eyes, images in his mind...


    An image of a boy with spread legs, lying on his belly, his hands and legs bound by the rope to wooden posts in the ground, his back blooded from whip lashes¡­


    An image of kneeling soldiers, praying with a priest in front of them, blessing them with the pain of an innocent as a sacrifice to deliver them all from their sins¡­


    An image of children, huddled together in a wooden cage, filthy, barely covered by torn, mold covered rags, their fingernails broken and bloodied from scratching into something hard, their wrists and ankles bruised from tightly knotted rope¡­


    ¡°Kill him, or I will do it myself.¡±


    Auria jumped down from the horse, and stood in front of the man. He was shivering, crying, wet-stain spreading from his groin. ¡°Do you feel like you deserve to die?¡± She asked the man, and to her surprise, he nodded vigorously. ¡°Thank you. It will make this a lot easier.¡± She said as she impaled him.

 Chapter 22 - To move forward

    Auria returned to the camp alone. To Suranihr¡¯s questioning gaze, she answered with a sigh. ¡°Harian found a¡­ victim for me. A sort of priest, I guess.¡±


    ¡°And where is he now?¡±


    ¡°He stayed behind, aiming to scout ahead before we continued. He told me to not expect him before evening.¡±


    ¡°Alright. Naira¡¯s awake, you should¡­¡± Even before he finished his sentence, Auria was already running towards the tent where Naira slept. She ran through the entrance, tent flaps fluttering from her passing by.


    Naira was trying to get dressed up, pain evident from her movements. It was an interesting sight, her pale, naked body bent over, dressed only in dark gauntlets that she couldn¡¯t take off. Auria¡¯s lips twitched. Wearing only gloves made Naira seem more naked than if she wore nothing at all. ¡°Back to bed.¡± Auria commanded with a voice that didn¡¯t allow any backtalk. Naira turned her head towards Auria slowly. ¡°I will go mad if I stay in bed any longer. I am fine.¡±


    ¡°I see that. You are indeed completely fine, movements as chipper as an old lady on her deathbed. Back to bed, I¡¯m going to heal you completely.¡±


    ¡°Are you sure you will not burn me to a crisp?¡± A hint of mirth in her voice was something that Auria really did not expect. ¡°Honestly, I feel fine. You are the most talented medic I know, Auria, and you have done an excellent job. You do not need that thing to heal people, you know.¡±


    Auria nodded. ¡°I know, but why not use it if I¡¯m able to?¡±


    Naira¡¯s face turned red. ¡°Honestly? It sickens me a little bit. The idea of you using the energy of someone you have killed to heal me.¡±


    Auria was startled. ¡°I¡­ I¡¯ve never thought of it that way. At least let me look at you. You¡¯ve been shot with some toxic filth, let me at least check up on you.¡±


    Naira nodded slowly, and laid down. Auria stretched the projector out, and focused.


    She was on a large wooden ship, her sun-darkened hands locking up the collar around the slave¡¯s neck, wondering how gold he could get on the market for him¡­


    She danced with a boy she fancied during festivities to praise their all-loving god, dreaming of taking his seed into her body later that night¡­


    She stood in front of a kneeling crowd, preaching the holy words, yet in her mind thinking about the young, barely-adult man waiting naked in his bed, arousing himself with the thought of doing something so vile and heretical as to lay with another man¡­


    It took but a moment, yet the images in her mind made her wince and take a small step back. Naira noticed it. ¡°Are you alright, Auria?¡±


    Auria nodded. ¡°It¡¯s¡­ nothing, probably.¡± She stepped back to Naira, focusing her will through the projector¡­ only to see nothing. Naira was completely invisible to the projector.


    ¡°What are you doing, Auria?¡± Naira asked, a hint of panic in her voice.¡±I feel it.¡±


    ¡°You¡­ what?¡± Auria raised her eyebrows, confused.


    ¡°I feel the tingle in my fingers. It comes from the gauntlets.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s¡­ strange. I can¡¯t see you - or better yet - feel you at all.¡±


    ¡°Yet I feel you. Move around the tent.¡± Naira closed her eyes, raising her left hand towards Auria, pointing at her. As Auria moved slowly around the tent, the finger followed her unmistakingly.


    ¡°Do you think there is a connection between your gauntlets and my arm?¡± Auria asked, realizing the obvious answer as soon as she let the words out.


    ¡°Either that, or my hearing is amazing and I can imagine you being anywhere around me as soon as I hear you.¡± Naira smiled. ¡°Strange, they never acted before, whatever you did with that thing¡­¡±


    ¡°Maybe it¡¯s because I didn¡¯t use the projector on you directly.¡± She stood in silence, contemplating. ¡°Will you help me dress up?¡± Naira asked out of the blue. Auria nodded happily.


    ¡°So what¡¯s with that long rifle?¡± Auria asked her while pulling Naira¡¯s undergarments up. Naira¡¯s mouth twitched. ¡°A modification to Basilisk. I am able to use it as a short, revolving pistol, or attach it to a rifle frame and use it as a - you¡¯ve guessed it - rifle.¡±


    Auria shook her head while putting Naira¡¯s arm into a sleeve of her light, white blouse. ¡°I¡¯ll never understand your fascination with guns and explosives.¡±


    ¡°You can thank Navarr for that.¡±


    Auria tensed. It was the first time after his death that Naira said his name out loud. Thankfully, nothing out of the ordinary followed and Auria felt that in time, Naira could return back to her cheerful old self instead of the cold, emotionless automaton she became in recent times. Even no, Auria already saw the progress Naira was making and she had to admit, she was rather relieved.


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    ¡°What¡¯s the difference? Both of them shoot something, hurting someone on the other hand of the barrel.¡±


    ¡°Accuracy, power, intimidation of something long and big being aimed at you.¡± Naira shrugged and hissed out of pain. ¡°Now kneel and adorn my boots. I know that you like to kneel in front of men.¡±


    Although she could not see it, Auria certainly felt and heard the grin on Naira¡¯s face. ¡°You¡¯ve got it wrong. I like when men kneel in front of me.¡± she said with a chuckle while lacing up Naira¡¯s long boots.


    ¡°Maybe that is why you are still alone.¡±


    ¡°No.¡± Auria shook her head. ¡°Believe me, there are a lot of men that look big and intimidating on the outside, yet inside, they want to be bound up and spank like little children.¡±


    Naira laughed out loud, and Auria was completely startled by that sound. Oh, how she missed that sound¡­


    ¡°I am sorry but the idea of your petite, slender figure towering above a kneeling, muscular man, ready to spank him if he will not lick your feet, that is a rather funny concept to imagine. Although, after I have seen you scorch an entire crowd with just a thought¡­¡±


    Auria raised her arms in defense. ¡°No, no feet. That¡¯s where I put the border.¡± She looked at Naira¡¯s face and while it was still cold and emotionless, the voice and laughter were honest.


    ¡°You seem rather¡­ fine with me causing so much death.¡±


    Naira sighed. ¡°It was either us, or them. You have done what you needed to.¡±


    ¡°Naira I¡­ Can I hug you? Please?¡± Auria asked meekly. After a short time, Naira nodded and both women hugged. They stayed like this for a good five minutes, until Naira broke it. ¡°I¡­ I need to¡­ be alone.¡±


    Auria took a few steps back, startled. ¡°Have I done something? Was it too much?¡±


    Naira shook her head, chuckling. ¡°I need to relieve myself, so please, kindly fuck off for a while.¡±


    ***


    Auria walked out of the tent and looked around. Tents stood on a flowery meadow in a circle nearly twenty meters wide, which gave everyone enough privacy, yet it did not make anyone feel pushed away. Auria realized that she did not know who exactly she was traveling with at the moment, and she decided that it was rather important to find out. She looked for a girl - a camp cook, by her guess - and decided to start with her. Specifically, by treating her wounds.


    She found her talking to another injured person - a citadel guard this time - and realized how selfish she was, chasing the energy and the power instead of taking care of everyone injured as she was supposed to. She felt ashamed, and a thought crossed her mind whether the projector was starting to alter her mind or not.


    She walked towards them, and the girl - a cook - bowed her head. ¡°Mistress.¡± The guard stood straight and saluted her with a painful grimace.


    ¡°Don¡¯t.¡± She waved at the guard. ¡°Tell me of your injuries, and please, tell everyone to come to me for treatment.¡±


    The girl nodded and quickly ran towards the closest tent, while the soldier sighed and started to list his injuries. As the list went on, another person came - again, a guardsman - and then another, and another, and another¡­


    All of them were injured, one way or another. Civilians - a blacksmith, coach master, cook - were traumatized, startling themselves with each fall of a leaf, each whisper of a wind. Guards were broken, cut open or burnt.


    And so Auria began. She healed both body and soul, in the best way she knew - ointments, needles and threads, poultices, potions, herbs and bandages. She did not use the projector, afraid to run out of energy, afraid to need to feed upon somebody.


    When she was finally finished, it was already an evening. Harian returned in the meantime, famished and tired and with interesting news.


    ¡°Too many patrols wander these lands¡­¡± He spoke towards the full camp as he ate. ¡°They look strange. Some of them wear the full military uniforms and armor of Glaeria, some of them look like cutthroats and brigands yet even in that disguise, they use distinct markings of the Glaerian army. Golden stars - pendants, wristbands, belt buckles. We need to be careful. Somehow, I doubt that they will be friendly towards us.¡±


    ¡°We are envoys of peace.¡± Auria said softly. ¡°We mean them no harm.¡±


    Harian turned towards her. ¡°The people you want to make peace with would rather see you burn. We need to be careful regarding our intentions and identities. Hide all the citadel markings. Hide the jewelry, anything shiny. Hide the weapons. Auria, conceal the projector. Act sick and plagued, or as poor people, homeless, beggars even - nobody will try to rummage through our stuff then, or give us any attention. We need to alter our carriages, they look too fancy and too out of place. We need to blend in with the dirt on the road, meaning be as dirty and worn down as that dirt.¡±


    He sighed and looked them each in the eyes for a moment. ¡°It will be hard and dangerous, but we can all make it in good health and fortune. Remember, we are all in this together. We leave none behind.¡±


    Suranihr raised his hand, asking for a word. All the eyes turned towards him. ¡°When on sea - or, specifically, on my ship - we have a rule. Each member of my crew needs to know how to fight, how to defend himself or herself. At least basics. I present this offer to all of you - I will give you as much training as needed, provided that you will ask for it voluntarily. I guess that the same will be true for Harian and these men to my right.¡± He nodded towards guardsmen right to him, to which they muttered in agreement.


    ¡°Well then, let¡¯s all get some rest. Tomorrow will be a long day.¡±


    ***


    After a quick task assignment, everybody hurried towards their work. All the decorations and carved woodwork on the carriages were torn down, scratched, burnt or made dirty with mud and ashes. Clothes that they all wore were hidden beneath large cloaks that were made filthy with food and grease stains, dirt from the road and oil from the wheel shafts. They were all in a rather rough shape, with visible bloody bandages, freshly sown wounds, scratches and bruises, so at least there wasn¡¯t much needed to fake.


    It took them half a day, but it was worth it. As they continued on their road, three patrols went by them. Two paid them no attention whatsoever, and one patrol stopped for a few questions which Suranihr obliged to answer with a raspy voice and a lot of coughing. A sting of unease and shame hit Auria when she heard him cough - after all, she attacked  him with a plague-bringing projector. Luckily, it was too depleted to cause any permanent harm and she surveyed him multiple times to assure herself that he is perfectly healthy.


    The night came, and she kept turning underneath the blankets. She stayed outside as heat waves washed over her constantly in the tent she shared with Naira. Alone, she laid on her back, looking at the stars above, thinking.


    For the past day, she could not get the thoughts regarding Naira¡¯s gauntlets out of her head. What were they? What was their purpose, and how did they hide Naira from the projector''s senses? How did they work? Were they dangerous? Were they¡­ useful?


    She kept turning and thinking. After a while, she realized that this will probably be a sleepless night and she decided that there surely was a way to spend it somehow usefully.


    She stood from her bedroll and went for a coach with her own personal belongings, seeking the journal of Sphinx. I need to know more about¡­ all of this¡­ she thought to herself.

 Chapter 23 - To be a human

    Larais stood next to the other two Triarchs atop the Citadel ramparts, observing the rippling movements of the crowd gathered before the Citadel walls. There were thousands of souls down there, begging for help, running away from raiders, plagues, poverty, seeking salvation behind the walls of the city. An incredible stench rose from the crowd, the one that only thousands of unwashed bodies can produce - it was almost enough to drive the Citadel Guard away from the battlements.


    Almost.


    Hundreds of scarlet-clad soldiers stood atop the walls, some of them bearing rifles, others with repeating crossbows, all of them organized into neat units of twenty that wielded both types of armaments. Each soldier was also equipped with standard-issue blades, be it axes, long daggers or short swords, and each unit had to have at least seven soldiers that wielded long, barbed spears. They were brothers and sisters, training with their unit for years until deep bonds formed between them - that way, it was ensured that they fought to protect their close ones and not just themselves.


    ¡°We cannot turn them away.¡± Ceryna gasped with hand over her mouth. ¡°We¡­ we have to¡­¡±


    ¡°We have to do nothing.¡± Argyl growled through his teeth. ¡°We are not able to sustain even a tenth of them without taking food from the mouths of our own people. This¡­¡± Argyl leant against the red stones of the wall. ¡°They know this.¡±


    ¡°What do you mean by they?¡± Ceryna asked softly.


    ¡°Their leaders. Generals of their armies. Their lords, their high priests, their holy order. Victon.¡± Larais muttered, never taking the eyes of the crowd.


    ¡°A tide of refugees this large means only one thing.¡± Argyl turned towards the women. ¡°We are under siege.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not an army.¡± Ceryna pointed out. Larais rolled her eyes. ¡°It doesn¡¯t need to be an armed army. Think, Ceryna. Our gates are closed, we are locked in the city, unable to even try to leave. What do you think would happen if we opened the gates? They would flood the Citadel, stomp us to death, overrun everything to eat, steal, pillage¡­


    ¡°And if you think that we should help them, to share, can you imagine the repercussions that would have?¡± Argyl supported Larais. Ceryna shook her head slowly.


    Argyl sighed, and leant against the wall again. ¡°We would waste our medicine, food and water, and manpower. Our guards would be needed to keep the order, which - believe me - is much harder at this scale than simply butchering them all would be. We would be left without supplies, tired, overcrowded. This city would turn into an overpressured steam engine, waiting to explode, with but a slightest spark being enough to burn our nation down.¡±


    ¡°I¡­ I¡¯m not suited for this.¡± Ceryna muttered. Larais and Argyl nodded, and Argyl answered. ¡°We don¡¯t need you to coordinate the war effort. We need you to provide for our own people, to keep them happy and comfortable. We need you to run the councils, hear the people, help the people - our people.¡±


    ¡°We need you to be the human voice if we were to become too inhumane.¡± Larais continued. ¡°But, we need you to keep the interests of our own people first.¡±


    Ceryna nodded. ¡°What do you need me to do?¡±


    They all fell silent, their eyes running through the crowds.


    ***


    Back to the voices of the dead. An idea may form in your mind, whether it is possible to talk to the dead, if the dead can talk to you. The simplest answer would be yes, but¡­


    There is a question whether the dead would want to talk to you. Think of it this way - they are in constant torment, neverending pain, and suddenly there is a living soul in front of them. One that is not torn apart each hour, each minute, each second of its existence.


    The dead envy the living. The dead want to be the living. The dead would gladly pull you to the Deadvoid, and swap places with you¡­


    Luckily, it is not that easy.


    But, it is certainly possible.


    Dear wielder, do you comprehend what I¡¯m trying to say to you? Yes, it is indeed possible to return the dead back to life, but they would need a vessel. A body to inhabit, and soulless, mindless bodies do not just wander around. Technically, you could create one in a reconfigurator, or¡­


    Please, do not do it. Ever. The Deadvoid leaves its mark on the returned and the death follows the returned with each step he or she takes. A primitive civilization might call it a curse, but the truth is much simpler - the dead attract the death.


    Additionally, my dear wielder¡­ How humane would that action be? Beware of losing the sight of what is right, and what is wrong. Don¡¯t waste what humanity can create by trying to reverse what every human has to undergo at the end of their path¡­


    This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it


    ***


    ¡°Can¡¯t sleep?¡± Harian sat next to Auria, chewing a piece of salted meat. She shook her head.


    ¡°Anything useful in there?¡± He asked, and Auria nodded. ¡°It¡¯s strange, reading this journal. I feel like all that I¡¯m reading, the projector already knows, and yet it¡¯s all new to me. I feel like that since it bore itself into me. All the things it does, it¡­ It doesn¡¯t really surprise me. It doesn¡¯t make me feel weird or different, it feels almost natural.¡±


    ¡°Like you¡¯ve done it all before?¡±


    ¡°Yes!¡± Auria shouted quickly, before even thinking about it.


    ¡°And did you do it all before?¡± Harian asked, smiling. Auria opened her mouth, but she could not bring herself to say no. Instead, she sighed. ¡°I¡¯m not sure. I don¡¯t remember my¡­ Wait.¡± She put the book away, pulling her dirty robes over her head, unbuttoning her blouse. Taking clothes off with a projector in the way was much more tiresome than one would expect, but she was getting the gist of it. When unclothed, she turned her pale back towards Harian. ¡°There is a way of finding out, perhaps. I¡¯ve had scars on my back since I can remember. Please, look at all the entry points where the projector¡¯s tendrils pierced my skin and try to¡­ compare them, or something.¡±


    ¡°I see no scars.¡± Muttered Harian after a few minutes. ¡°It would look like the projector entered your body exactly where your scars were. Doesn¡¯t seem like a coincidence to me, Auria.¡±


    She sat down, heavily. Again, she wasn¡¯t surprised by this development. It was as if she knew, all along, that at one point in time, somewhere in her past, she was a wielder. A quick, painful sting in her head reminded her of the headaches she had in the past, of frequent, skull-splitting agony that¡­


    ¡­was perhaps caused by the loss of a sense¡­


    ¡­sense gained with the projector¡­


    She shivered, chill running down her spine. She had to discover her past, unshroud it, and she knew that she was on the right track. Auria knew that her past, her present, and her future were linked by a projector.


    ***


    Tingling in her fingers kept her off sleep. She felt Auria, close by - ever since the medic tried to use the thing on her, Naira felt some sort of connection between her gauntlets and Auria¡¯s projector. She could pinpoint precisely where Auria sat, how far away, in which exact direction¡­


    She raised her right hand, focusing, her fingers spread, dancing in the air as if she danced with a marionette¡­ And indeed, she felt as if her fingers brushed against a soft thread dangling in the wind. Naira tried to catch it, to hold it, to perhaps tug at it weakly but it kept slipping away, always just out of her reach. She felt as if she tried to catch a smoke and, just as a smoke, the thread connecting her to Auria always slipped between her fingers.


    How strange¡­ She thought, examining her blackened hands and fingers. I wonder¡­


    She let the dangling thread be, and decided to thoroughly test the gauntlets. What help could they be, other than thread-catching? Were they pierce-resistant? Were they slash-resistant? Were they perhaps able to withstand great temperatures, or perhaps acidic substances. After all, they covered her hands tightly.


    She screamed in surprise when she cut at the gauntlet and instead, it felt as if her own skin split open. A drop of darkened blood gushed out of the wound but not more, as the wound closed itself just a moment later. Curious¡­


    Million ideas circled in her head regarding all the tests she could perform to properly and completely determine the properties of her gauntlets when suddenly, she felt Auria use the projector for something. The thread Naira felt in the air hardened, and she knew that now, she could catch it and pull at it easily¡­.


    She reached the arm and found the string again. This time, she caught it and she felt as if holding a long, thin leash, wrapped around Auria¡¯s projector¡­


    I wonder what would happen if I pulled¡­


    She thought for a brief moment, but, as exhilarating as that idea was, she threw it away and let go of the thread. Something inside her told Naira that it would serve no good, that it would only cause pain and suffering to both her, and her friend¡­


    Yet something also told her that there will be a time when she would be forced to pull on the thread with all her strength, and never let go.


    ***


    ¡°We could make them work for it. Send them to our fields, to tend to our crops, our livestock, to our fishing fleet¡­ More hands would mean larger food consumption, sure, but also a lot more produce.¡± Ceryna offered after ten minutes of silence. Argyl turned towards her. ¡°We can¡¯t do that to all of them. What would we do with the rest?¡±


    ¡°Nothing.¡±


    Both Argyl and Larais looked at her with raised eyebrows. ¡°What do you mean?¡±


    ¡°As you¡¯ve said, they are not our people, and we should tend to our own first. Let¡¯s give them an offer - food and medicine for work, but for a limited number of people.¡±


    ¡°That would be¡­¡± Larais spoke, unsure of the right word. Argyl finished instead of her. ¡°Slaughter.¡± He said, his mouth a thin line.


    ¡°Not necessarily. With hard enough work, they can earn more than a single person would need. A strong man can work for his entire family, not just for himself.¡±


    ¡°Ceryna, you¡­¡± Larais started, but finished her sentence with a sigh. ¡°This will not work.¡±


    ¡°I agree.¡± Argyl nodded. ¡°But, it¡¯s our only idea yet. So, Ceryna, how would you do this whole thing? What would be first?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll make a complete, detailed document for both of you. But first, let¡¯s make the refugees do the work - let them choose their leaders. Let them choose someone to speak for them all, and with them, we will discuss all the necessary arrangements for the¡­ greater good.¡±


    Argyl sighed. ¡°Do you realize how easier our life would be if we just¡­ eradicated the problem, instead of solving it?¡±


    Larais nodded. ¡°Yes, but we are above such actions. What we do here, we do for the betterment of all humanity, not just the Citadel. The world just doesn¡¯t see it yet.¡±

 Chapter 24 - The world stirs

    He was getting closer. It drew him, a magnetic pull that tugged on his mind, always giving him a direction. Without any map, without any help or asking locals for directions, Iarvahr went straight for the great wall of Bashen, straight to the cave that ran into the hillside underneath. He was close, maybe a day¡¯s worth of ride - he felt it, he knew it, and so did the corpses he left in his wake. To each of them, he apologized, explained why he did what he did, why they had to suffer beneath the metallic claws of his projectors.


    Time alone gave him enough room to think. He realized how foolish he was, how weakly he acted before, running away from his problems, running away from what he had caused. He knew that the civilization of Bashen at their peak gave birth to machines and devices some would call miracles, and thus it was only natural that there would be something behind the wall that would allow him to bring his beloved back from the dead. True, there were no known ways past the wall but he should have realized that the tunnel made into the cliffside underneath would probably lead through to the other side, into the unknown, dead lands.


    Oh, how stupid he was. Remembering the mutant-filled tunnels, he realized that there was ancient technology scattered all around him even then and there. Perhaps Leonie did not need to die at all. Perhaps he could have saved her. Perhaps that was the reason why she despised him so openly when she visited him in his visions¡­


    ¡°Soon, my beloved.¡± He muttered as he drained the six-manned Glaerian patrol dry. He did not apologize to them. Instead, he smiled brightly. ¡°Soon.¡±


    ***


    Anaid sat in front of a large mirror set in a brass frame that was richly adorned with blooming flowers. She brushed her hair slowly and patiently, evening¡¯s breeze caressing her bare breasts. Although she seemed completely drowning in adoration of her own image, she listened to Xanwryn¡¯s monologue very closely.


    ¡°It all goes as we¡¯ve planned, my darling.¡± He said with a sweet, slimy voice as he laid in the messy bed, stroking himself slowly. ¡°The Citadel is overrun by refugees, and their peace envoy has been crushed under the feet of the lowlifes. Although, from what I¡¯ve heard, they made quite a spectacle during their last stand.¡±


    ¡°Uh-uh.¡± She hummed distractedly.


    ¡°The citadel will soon start to rot from within. Literally, and figuratively.¡±


    ¡°What do you mean?¡± She asked, playing dumb for his pleasure.


    ¡°I came with a plan to send mostly sick and hungry people there, although there weren¡¯t as many sick people as you might think, so we had to¡­ make some.¡± A single drop of sweat ran down Anaid¡¯s spine. He admits it freely, although I already had my suspicions¡­ She thought.


    ¡°They can¡¯t help them all. They can¡¯t feed them all.They will crumble, and we will divide the spoils among our lands. No more will we be forced to bow our heads before them, no longer will we be choked by their strangling grip!¡± His words were quickening, keeping in pace with himself stroking his cock.


    ¡°What if they can and will help them all?¡± She asked meekly, as her mind quickly worked. When did he ever bow his head to the Citadel? When did anybody? All we did was once in a while pay a tribute in resources for them to take care of our wounded, to uplift our nations¡­¡±


    ¡°They can¡¯t. Soon, our armies will march, and as their hands are full with refugees, we will¡­ crush¡­ them¡­ oooh¡­¡± He moaned those last words as he ejaculated all over his torso. Panting heavily, he turned his head to Anaid. ¡°They can¡¯t feed them, but I can feed you. Come clean me, darling. Lick me clean, as an obedient slut you are.¡±


    Anaid put the brush away slowly and took a deep breath. You do it for Antigan. You do it for your people. You had a choice - submission, or slavery. As she walked to Xanwryn, she thought of the blood rot epidemic that ravaged the cities of Antigan, remembering all the people from the Citadel that came to their help, asking for nothing in return. She remembered kneeling in the blood, stench of decomposing bodies all around her, as she pushed some child to the ground while a white-haired girl catered to his every wound, every pustule, every infected body part. She remembered the boy¡¯s screams as that medic injected something white inside his body, and she remembered the laughter of that same boy a week later when she visited the orphanage again.


    As she knelt by the bed and licked Xanwryn¡¯s seed from his own, sweaty body, she shuddered slightly. She¡¯d rather be knee high in rotting bodies, covered in pus and clogged blood than doing this. But it was her duty, she had to serve. Antigan was ravaged after the epidemic, their military almost non-existent, and the threats came quickly and unexpectedly.


    I¡¯ll do it. I¡¯ll be your little whore. I¡¯ll lick your cum, balls, ass, I don¡¯t fucking care for I know that the time will come when I will carve out your heart out of your body you sick son of a cunt.


    ¡°That¡¯s enough. Put it in your mouth, darling.¡± Xanwryn purred. As she moved her head up and down, trying her best to pleasure him as quickly as she could so that she would suffer for the shortest possible time, plans were being born in her mind. Soon, Heers will get his task, and a chance for revenge. He will gladly take it, of that Anaid was sure. Xanwryn was wrong - the peace envoy was coming. And when they will come, the golden city will burn.


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    She chuckled at that thought, which Xanwryn understood as a moan of pleasure. ¡°You live for this, you slut, don¡¯t you?¡± He said as he held her head and pushed his cock deeply into her throat. She gagged, but continued to serve him.


    As she thought of revenge, a small part of her mind kept returning to that day in the city of Antiga, to that day when she helped a filthy, bloody white-haired medic help that boy. They saved him, and Anaid never felt better. Until then, she never felt like she mattered, like she did anything actually good but then¡­ It was then that she decided that she will do whatever is necessary for the good of her people.


    I wonder where she is, what she¡¯s doing¡­ she thought of white-haired medic as she swallowed Xanwryn¡¯s hot semen.


    ***


    The sun was setting and the small valley was darkened by the shadows from the forest. Hidden in the darkness of forest¡¯s trees and shrubbery, Rhaivid watched the wielder with cautious interest. He was old enough to remember the Bashen empire at its peak and he remembered what the power of wielders can do when unchecked. As he watched the bald man tear through the Glaerian patrol, memories of a long forgotten past appeared in his ancient mind, yet he remembered them clearly as if it all happened just now.


    He remembered how the uprising began, how the wielders turned on one another. He remembered the destruction and bloodshed it all caused - the scorching flames of unbound power that swept entire cities, the neverending lightning that turned his desert home into a city of glass, the carnage of torn limbs and broken bones, the geysers of blood that turned the sky scarlet¡­


    He was but a young hatchling then, his first carapace barely hardened, but he remembered. The world forgot - or, more accurately, it was forced to forget - but he remembered.


    The memories brought a kind of nervousness into Rhaivid that he hadn''t felt in decades, and his six insectoid mandibles started to chitter as they hit the hardened carapace around his mouth opening. He felt the storm brewing, he saw the fields covered in ash, the rivers of blood, the pus-ridden nature decaying in front of his four eyes¡­ Was it the past, or the future?


    The wielder moved away from the dried patrolmen, and Rhaivid followed him, his body low to the ground, half slithering, half running on his scythe-like six legs. He knew that the past was going to repeat itself and it filled his large, insectoid body with cold dread. The past was going to repeat itself, but this time, Rhaivid knew of nothing that could stop the wielders. This time, there was no Sphinx.


    ***


    As the carriage jumped on the uneven road, Auria tried to read the shaking pages of the journal. She came to a part in the journal that did not connect to the one before, and she thought that something horrible must have happened between two paragraphs.


    ¡°Listen to this, Naira.¡± She turned towards her friend as she read out loud.


    ¡®I believe, dear wielder, that you have already drained a life or two. Perhaps some memories started to appear in your mind that are not your own - do not worry, you are not going insane. Not yet. This is completely normal¡­.


    They have burned the Kochos to the ground. When we arrived there, only ruins remained filled with heavy, yellow clouds of toxic gas. Broken towers were sticking to the sky like broken teeth of a needle-mouth shark. I¡¯ve seen my own share of death, but this¡­


    I¡¯ve never killed for pleasure. Always out of necessity, or due to the orders of my commanding officer. I admit, I¡¯ve led carnage on uncountable planets for the prosperity of our galactic empire, but this¡­


    Carayan disintegrated the toxic air and what it revealed has shaken us all deeply into our cores.


    Bodies, violated, torn to shreds with visible marks of abuse and depravity that have been forced upon them. Women and men, young and old, bound to crosses, their hands and feet pierced with nails, random pieces of debris pushed into their openings, eyes plucked out, teeth torn off, nails burned away, their skin molten from acidic splashes¡­


    In years, I haven''t seen anything as depraved as this.


    We¡¯ve taken them all down and buried them. As we dug the holes in the ground, chimneys of dark smoke appeared on the horizon. More towns were under siege.


    I remember the look Carayan gave me. The contempt, the disgust, the understanding, the shame, the sorrow - all mixed in his eyes equally. I remember when he asked me the question ¡°Why?¡±


    Truthfully, I cannot. I¡¯m afraid that if I use them one more time, I will lose. I know my powers and my limits, I know that with a thought, I could end them all, that I could purge them from this planet. A single thought would be enough¡­


    But I fear that I will lose myself. The Deadvoid is calling me more than ever, and I fear that if I lost control, the world would come off much worse than it is now.


    I would enslave them all. Forever. For they cannot control themselves - aggressive, barbaric, lustful and greedy breed of humanity.  The last of our kind, the last hope for humanity to survive¡­ And they only wage war, kill one another, rape one another, abuse and torture for the sake of feeling powerful¡­ For the sake of feeling in control over others, yet they can¡¯t even control their own primitive desires.


    Fuck the humanity. We should all be like Valyera - a synthetic, unnatural machine, yet more humane than anyone I¡¯ve ever met.


    I¡¯ll give humanity one last chance. One final solution. And, if it doesn¡¯t work, you can all go fuck yourselves with a dry broom handle.¡¯


    Auria raised her eyes to her friend. They were both silent for a long while, listening only to the clattering wheels.  ¡°Have you ever heard of Kochos?¡±


    Naira shook her head. ¡°No but¡­ What you have read, that was¡­ What was that?. Did that really happen? When? It had to be eons ago¡­¡±


    Auria nodded, bile rising to her mouth. She swallowed hard. ¡°I¡¯m¡­ guessing that a terrible war had raged in our world long before the Citadel was even thought of.¡±


    Naira looked deep into her eyes. ¡°If you are right, why aren¡¯t there any historical documents and artifacts from this age?¡±


    Auria pointed towards Naira¡¯s hands. ¡°One artifact is embedded into my spine. Another is merged with your hands.¡±


    ¡°Yes but¡­ there is still no evidence of what happened then. Read along, please. You¡¯ve piqued my interest.¡±


    Auria nodded and continued.

 Chapter 25 - Words of an ancient

    Or at least, she wanted to continue, only to find out that the journal ended abruptly on the next page. Confused and irritated, she quickly turned page after page, yet there was nothing more to be found in the journal. ¡°What is this, why did she end just then and there? What was the final solution?¡±


    Naira shrugged. ¡°Maybe something happened to her. The final solution sounds ominous. It might have gone wrong. It might have killed her¡­¡±


    ¡°No¡­¡± Auria shook her head. ¡°She¡¯s not dead.¡±


    ¡°How do you know that?¡±


    Her head was spinning, thoughts in her head running wildly. She was unfocused, unconcentrated, and the next words she said came out without her wanting to actually say them.


    ¡°The creator told me.¡±


    Naura straightened and stiffened. ¡°Who? How? When?¡±


    Auria¡¯s throat and mouth dried. She wasn¡¯t ready to speak about this to Naira, but now that she¡¯d started, she had no choice. ¡°I¡­ He spoke to me. In Deadvoid¡­¡±


    Naira moved closer to Auria, placing her hand softly on the medic''s thigh. She glared into Auria¡¯s eyes, a glare that did not allow for any refusals.  ¡°Start again, Auria. Tell me everything.¡±


    ***


    ¡°I don¡¯t know what I¡¯d do without you, boy¡­¡± Morgue-keeper said, panting. Heers just helped him to heave another corpse atop the dissection table - a man that resembled a well fed pig, both in size, weight and in smell. ¡°I¡¯m getting too old for this but¡­ Who would do such a work? There aren¡¯t many with a stomach strong enough for cutting the dead open.¡±


    ¡°Uh-uh.¡± Heers agreed with a non-specific sound. ¡°I do help.¡±


    ¡°Yes, you do. But¡­¡± The old morgue-keeper looked at Heers with narrowed eyes. ¡°There is something strange about you. You act dumb, but there is a sort of¡­ certainty in your movements. A little bit of arrogance. I don¡¯t think you are who you say you are.¡±


    Heers tensed, but tried to not let anything show. He hurried towards the morgue-keeper¡¯s toolbag that laid atop a simple wooden chair and he quickly put it on the table next to the corpse.


    ¡°I don¡¯t care who you are. But there is something in you¡­ hm.¡± Morgue-keeper picked a scalpel with a small, precisely made blade from the bag. ¡°A gift from the citadel.¡± Morgue-keeper chuckled, but that chuckle quickly turned into a full, breathtaking cough. Wheezing, he handed the scalpel to Heers. ¡°Here, boy. Try to¡­ open the corpse. I will guide you, but my hand is shaking, so you have to be the one holding the blade.¡±


    Heers carefully took the scalpel and inserted it carefully into the body precisely where the morgue-keeper instructed him. ¡°Good. Don¡¯t go deeper. Now, make a cut, a straight one from here to here¡­¡± Heers followed the shaking finger slowly, opening the corpse like a horrible, disgusting gift wrapped in a bloated skin.


    Cut after cut, the body laid in front of them was opened after half an hour, spewing a sickening stench in the air. ¡°Good work, my boy.¡± Morgue-keeper coughed. ¡°You have a very fine hand. It is as if those tools were made for you. I¡­ Help me outside. I need some fresh air.¡±


    As they sat, their backs leaning against the morgue wall, the morgue-keeper looked lost in the memories. ¡°Where are you from, boy?¡±


    ¡°Far.¡± Heers muttered.


    ¡°I thought so.¡± Morgue-keeper smiled. ¡°Have you ever been to the Citadel?¡± Heers nodded, but the Morgue-keeper did not see him. ¡°Marvelous place...¡± he continued heavily. ¡°They are as we all should be. All people should get proper education and experience¡­¡±


    Heers nodded slightly in agreement, and the morgue-keeper continued. ¡°They have saved me, you know. Their medic contingent, the last time they visited this city¡­ They left after a very short time, sadly¡­¡±


    ¡°Why?¡± Heers asked, honestly curious.


    ¡°They didn¡¯t feel welcome here. The  people are afraid of them, worried that they might take over. People worry about losing their freedom, and with Citadel¡¯s technology surrounding them, they are afraid of losing it all. Suspicious, worried, paranoid. Mostly, they are afraid of what would happen if the Citadel decided to stop helping us all, stop supplying us with all their life-improving tools¡­¡±


    Morgue keeper coughed, bloody droplets landing on his palms. He took a rasped breath. ¡°They are afraid of being indebted to Citadel, of being under their thumb, not realizing that every breath they take, every shit they make, it all belongs to¡­¡± His sentence ended in wild, unending coughing. Heers tried to help him as best as he could, throwing away the facade of stupid simpleton. The morgue-keeper did not see them, trying to continue speaking through the coughing. ¡°People belong to¡­ To Victon¡­ To the priests¡­ To their god¡­ They are afraid of¡­ Change¡­ Known tyrant is better than¡­ unknown saint¡­¡±


    Heers was helpless. The man was dying in his arms, and he had no idea what to do. The morgue-keeper raised his shaking hand towards Heers. ¡°Thank you for¡­ not leaving me¡­ alone.¡± With that last word, he exhaled for the last time. For a long time, Heers stayed kneeling, holding the dead man in his arms.


    ***


    Auria finished speaking and looked into her friend¡¯s face, seeking¡­ something. Some emotion, some opinion, some expression. Anything would be better than the silence that hung in the air for the last ten minutes.


    ¡°Am I insane?¡± Auria asked finally. To that question, Naira shook her head, but did not comment on it further. More minutes passed, and just as their carriage stopped and Auria wanted to jump down from it, Naira turned towards her. ¡°You can speak to the dead.¡±


    Auria nodded slowly. ¡°I know what you wa¡­¡±


    ¡°Find them. Go to sleep, enter the Deadvoid. Find the people mentioned in that journal. Try finding Sphinx, don¡¯t believe the creator. Try finding that¡­ Carayan. Auria, Deadvoid seems like an untapped pool of infinite wisdom. You would be unwise if you did not use it.¡±


    If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.


    ¡°Are you¡­ Sure?¡±


    ¡°I will protect you. I have a feeling that I can¡­ shut the projector off if something goes wrong.¡± Naira waved her fingers, feeling the invisible strings dancing between them.


    Auria nodded quickly. ¡°I trust you, Naira. But¡­ Don¡¯t you want me to seek¡­ someone else?¡±


    Naira froze up. ¡°I¡­ Do. I do not. I¡­¡± She shuddered, a sudden chill running down her spine. ¡°I am unsure.¡±


    ¡°I can try to¡­¡±


    ¡°No. Not yet.¡± Naira stopped her quickly. ¡°Some other time perhaps.¡±


    ***


    That night, Auria laid tucked in her bedroll while Naira sat next to her, guarding her from something intangible. The more Auria tried to fall asleep, the more nervous she became and the Deadvoid eluded her. ¡°I can¡¯t.¡± She exhaled with frustration. ¡°You sitting over me makes me nervous.¡±


    ¡°I will leave then.¡± Naira muttered. ¡°But I will be close. Don¡¯t worry.¡±


    As Naira blew out the light and the tent flaps closed, Auria was left in the dark silence. ¡°Feels almost like a Deadvoid even now.¡± She muttered to herself silently. Alone, she began to think about how to find the dead she wished to seek. What would she do, simply shout out their name? But there are a lot of people sharing names, she imagined. Although she knew no one that shared her own name, Naira was a name popular enough in Malorea, and Harian was a rather common name in Antigan. Suranihr originated from Kryota, and his facial features reminded her of the fearsome warriors from that ever-frozen hell.


    Iarvahr, now that name was almost as unique as her own, rooted perhaps in the old Rooskurian lineages¡­ But names like Carayan, or Sphinx? She couldn¡¯t even imagine where the owners of these names came from, or what their culture was like, or where their origin came from. Maybe they were completely unique. On the other hand, Sphinx mentioned conquering entire worlds¡­ Were there other worlds than their own? True, some scholars that focused themselves on looking at stars through magnifying glass speculated about entire planets - ball shaped worlds similar to their own - that floated among the shiny lights visible during the light, but¡­ that was insane, right?


    Was it, though?


    Carayan. Where did you come from? Did you come from another world? And if so, how can I find you in Deadvoid? Does the Deadvoid contain all the worlds, all the stars, or is it limited to our own world?


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    She opened her eyes and in front of her stood a monster.


    Half man, half machine, he stood much taller than Auria, with multiple projector-like limbs and tentacles made of similar material sprouting from his body. Instead of hair, wires of glowing light grew from his head, braided into long pigtails, hiding the metallic skull that covered half of his head. His left hand was made of metal, ending in a three-clawed apparatus with a wide tube sitting in the middle of it that emitted dark, sickly light. But the most alien thing about him were his eyes.


    Auria counted seven of them - one ordinary human eye, although with a jade-green pupil that looked as unnatural as his hair or arm, and six glowing eye-like shapes scattered around the metal-half of his face. All of them focused on her, piercing her with an all-knowing gaze.


    He bared his teeth in a ferocious grin. ¡°Another fucking wielder. I¡¯ve hoped that Sphinx killed you all. It pains me deeply to be so mistaken.¡±


    Auria did not know how to respond. She did not expect to find the unknown dead person this easily, just as much she did not expect him to be this¡­ horrifying.


    ¡°What do you want, wielder?¡± He asked, spitting the last word with contempt.


    ¡°I¡­ I am Auria.¡± She introduced herself, trying to be as polite as she could. As an answer, Carayan laughed loudly. ¡°No you¡¯re fucking not. Your hair is white, your skin is pale, and that fucking abomination sticking out of your back is also not golden. What¡¯s your name?¡±


    Blood rushed into her cheeks. ¡°I¡¯ve said it. I am Auria.¡±


    ¡°Oh.¡± Carayan looked stunned, and slightly confused. ¡°Why did they name you after a metal?¡±


    Auria smiled, filling that smile with all the irritation she could. ¡°I¡¯ve never met my parents. Ask them.¡±


    ¡°Doesn¡¯t matter. What do you want? How do you know me?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve read your name somewhere.¡±


    ¡°And so you¡¯ve thought how funny it would be to disturb the random dead person. Fucking hillarious, I can¡¯t breath from all the laughing.¡±


    ¡°No I¡­ I¡¯m sorry. This was a mistake.¡±


    He sighed and started to walk around her, tendrils waving around him in unison with his body. ¡°Possibly. Now what do you want? You know that you don¡¯t have much time here, right?¡±


    ¡°What do you mean?¡± Auria tensed with a bad premonition.


    ¡°You being here drains you. That piece of filth sticking from your back kills you. It needs to take power from somewhere, right? And since it can¡¯t take power from here - as you are now here - it takes it from you. You didn¡¯t know? Your master forgot to mention such a little thing?¡± Carayan chuckled.


    ¡°My master? Who do you think I am?¡±


    Carayan crossed his arms on his chest along with a bunch of tendrils. ¡°Judging by your snow-white hair, you come from one of the Bashenite factions. Hedonists, perhaps? Or the Defiled? Hm, but that thing on your back is¡­ Advanced.¡± He moved closer, reaching for Auria¡¯s projector with his long tendrils that each split into hundreds of hair-thin worms. As it touched her projector, it tickled. ¡°Strange. It¡¯s similar to her design¡­ And your face¡­ Remove the scarring.¡± Carayan ordered her, and Auria instinctively hurried to obey, only to realize she didn¡¯t need to, and that she didn¡¯t even know how.


    ¡°I have no idea what you are talking about. I¡¯ve never heard of any Defiled, or Hedonists, and Bashen is long gone. All I know is that the civilization of Bashen is long dead. I come from the Citadel, and this?¡± She waved the projector around. ¡°This latched onto me by accident. I didn¡¯t ask for it, I didn¡¯t want it.¡±


    ¡°Dead?¡± He staggered. ¡°It¡¯s impossible. If they were dead, that would mean that Sphinx¡¯s plan worked, and if her plan worked, she would be long dead with the rest of us. And she¡¯s not dead, otherwise she would be here, with us.¡±


    ¡°What do you mean?¡± Auria asked. ¡°I literally have only read about the things you mention in her journal, and I know nothing more.¡±


    ¡°Her journal¡­¡± Carayan¡¯s features softened and he smiled. ¡°I¡¯ve teased her about it, you know? I see that someone did indeed manage to find it and read it¡­ where did you find it, wielder?¡±


    ¡°It has been gifted to me, but from what I understand, it was found in ancient ruins beneath the Citadel.¡±


    Carayan scratched his chin. ¡°Citadel¡­ and what''s that?¡±


    ¡°We¡­¡± she sighed, understanding his confusion but not knowing where to start. ¡°We are the most progressive - both in technology and in mind - nation in the known world. Our surgeons are well known far and wide, and our steam engines turn¡­¡±


    ¡°Steam engines?!¡± Carayan asked suddenly, not letting her finish. He looked as if he wanted to burst to laughter, but his half-human face was quickly covered by a shadow of thought. ¡°When did the Bashen fall, when was it destroyed?¡±


    Auria thought for a short while. ¡°It must have been hundreds of years ago. The citadel did not exist at that time from what I''ve read in historic manuscripts¡­ maybe even a thousand years ago?¡±


    ¡°Hundreds¡­¡± Carayan muttered. ¡°Her solution might have worked¡­ But she''s not dead?¡±


    He quickly shifted his gaze towards Auria.


    ¡°Something went terribly wrong, golden child. Something happened to Sphinx. She had a solution to save humanity, one last time. But she would have perished and joined us here if she was successful.¡±


    Carayan walked slowly towards her. ¡°I will give you all the answers you seek, all the help you want. But first, I need something from you.¡± Auria nodded impatiently as he stepped in front of her and stared her dead in the eyes.


    ¡°I need you to bring me back to the living world.¡±

 Chapter 26 - Pure hatred

    Auria did not expect that. Puzzled, she stared at him, her eyes running up and down his inhuman body. She had a lot of questions in her mind - how would one do that? Is it really possible? What is needed for such a thing? But instead of those questions, a single word came out of her mouth.


    ¡°Why?¡±


    Carayan cocked his head to the side. ¡°A¡­ debt.¡±


    ¡°You are dead.There is no need for you to concern yourselves with any debts.¡±


    He sighed - a long, exhausted sigh devoid of any life let out by a man that spent lifetimes in Deadvoid. ¡°It¡¯s not that simple.This place¡­ it¡¯s not really what you would have expected of death. It¡¯s rather similar to living - my mind exists and wanders, creates and destroys¡­¡± As he said those words, an apple formed in his hand, only to be quickly burned to a crisp. ¡°What¡¯s different is that the basic needs of a human- the needs that I¡¯ve spent lifetimes cultivating, like breathing, eating, drinking and fucking - they can¡¯t be satisfied. There is no body to actually state those needs, only the mind.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s not an answer to my question.¡± Auria said slowly.


    Carayan chuckled bitterly. ¡°Sphinx gave herself a final task, and one of the outcomes was supposed to be the destruction of the Deadvoid, so that the souls of the dead could actually pass on¡­ somewhere else, and not be stuck in this shithole.¡±


    ¡°And you owe her¡­¡±


    ¡°Everything. She must have achieved only a partial result, and she needs help. She needs my help.¡±


    ¡°And you want to get back among the living, back to your own kind¡­ Among humanity.¡±


    ¡°Fuck them all.¡± Anger in his voice felt like a slap across her cheek. ¡°My kind died between the distant stars.¡± He stepped to her, pressing his finger against her chest. ¡°Fuck humanity. An unworthy race of mongrels that should have stayed in the mud of their first world. What¡¯s humanity good for? War and destruction, that¡¯s what. We spread across the stars, devouring one world¡¯s resources to build an army with which we¡¯ve enslaved another world. Do you have any idea how many lifeforms we¡¯ve extinguished?¡±


    Auria stared at him blankly. ¡°No.¡± She shook her head.


    ¡°Humanity deserves all that has happened to it.¡± He spat, the saliva ending somewhere in the surrounding void. Staring to the abyss, he muttered. ¡°I owe it to Sphinx. She¡­ She is maybe a single person that did not deserve all that happened to her.¡±


    ¡°Bold statement.¡± Auria said. Her head spun around and she staggered. ¡°I am¡­¡±


    ¡°You are here for too long. You need to leave. But first, will you aid me? Will you bring me back among the living?¡±


    Auria reluctantly nodded. ¡°Maybe. I will have to think it through.¡±


    ¡°There might not be a way anymore. You need to create a body for me. Find a reconfigurator and when you do, seek me out again. Now leave, and pray that it¡¯s not too late.¡±


    ¡°What¡¯s a reconfigurator?¡°


    ¡°You will know when you find it.¡±


    ¡°How do I know that I can trust you? The Creator was an¡­¡±


    ¡°The Creator was, is, and always will be a fucking waste of semen.¡± Carayan lashed out, all his tendrils flailing wildly in the void. ¡°He¡¯s a disgrace to me, to himself, to the fucking universe.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s¡­a strong reaction.¡± She muttered calmly, trying to hide the shiver of fear that she felt inside. ¡°I still don¡¯t know how I can trust you.¡±


    ¡°I¡­ I fought him, you know?¡± He turned towards her, his eyes full of deep sadness. ¡°And I¡¯ve killed him. And then again, and again¡­¡±


    Auria raised her eyebrows. ¡°You fought him? When? How? Didn¡¯t he create the projectors? He must have wielded them¡­¡±


    Carayan nodded. ¡°But so did I. Watch.¡± With these words, the void around them shifted.


    This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.


    ***


    ¡°Fucking Hedonist piece of shit!¡± Carayan screamed, as his fist bashed the skull of a scar-covered man open. Other than a few drapes of cloth, the man wore nothing, and Carayan felt an unbridled disgust by all the oily liquids that the man covered himself with.


    Something hit him on his back, and he found himself kneeling. He turned his head, and a metallic arm followed his gaze. Another Hedonist stood there, aiming a shockwave cannon at Carayan. Velvet smoke was coming from the barrel of the cannon, its muzzle shaped to a woman¡¯s face with mouth open and a long tongue hanging out of it. The weapon was embedded into the back of a hunched creature that was one perhaps a human being, but now it was only a crouching, fleshy gun-platform covered in scars and boils.


    Carayan knew the weapon had a long reload time. Usually, it was a one-shot-one-kill weapon, but the Hedonist had no way of knowing that under his skin, Carayan wore an intricate network of kinetic barriers.


    He did not bother with the projector, instead, Carayan raised his phase-gun and took a shot. A cloud of dark green energy whistled from the gun, only to disappear after a meter and reappear inside of the Hedonist¡¯s body, displacing the reality around itself, tearing the insides and violently exploding in a ball of blood, splintered bone and liquified organs.


    ¡°Fuck you all.¡± Carayan muttered as he looked around. Hedonist¡¯s died by hundreds all around them - Valyera moved through them in a whirlwind of glowing blades, moving through the oiled bodies like a harvester through wheat fields. Kavala sat on a barricade that connected the building of matterium and a water-purifying plant, looking almost bored, waiting to finish off anyone that got through Carayan and Valyera.


    Next to her stood Sphinx.


    Her three projectors glowing, waving as if they were stalks of grass in the wind, yet¡­


    Carayan knew that she wanted to, that she craved to unleash them. He knew that in that instant, the war would be over, but something much worse would be set free.


    ¡°Yeah and fuck you too, Sphinx.¡± He muttered with a smile. ¡°Always having me do your work for you.¡±


    Valyera¡¯s sharp cry turned him instantly. She was suspended in the air, tied up by thick ropes of pure energy. The smoke was rising from her skin where the ropes touched her, burning through her clothes almost instantly, yet they had a problem burning through her synthetic, ragallum-infused skin.


    Still,  judging by her screaming, it was incredibly painful.


    ¡°Wielder!¡± Kavala shouted. Carayan had his eyes already locked onto him. He did not hesitate and ran straight towards him, shooting from his phase-gun even while running. Every Hedonist in his way was instantly clawed through by his tendrils and he left only a trail of torn limbs and spilled guts in his wake.


    Few more meters¡­ Carayan thought as he jumped over the pile of corpses. Hang on Val.


    Carayan realized that he knew the wielder - Unexpectedly, The Creator himself finally decided to join the fray. If that was the case, the Hedonists ran out of wielders. Either that, or The Creator did not want to share the working reconfigurator in the matterium building with his cult.


    Pure, scorching hate filled Carayan. Thousands of mutilated bodies danced in front of his eyes - men, women, children, all of them civilians, all of them innocent - and he screamed. The sound resembled a rabid predator and his face was twisted in the mask of pure rage and ferocity. His mind was crumbling under the onslaught of hatred, but Carayan knew what he needed to do. He focused all that rage, all that ferocity and hatred, and poured it through his projector.


    The Creator turned his head towards him as the air around him started to shimmer. A blink of an eye later, the world turned into a raging inferno. Blood-soaked sand around them formed into molten glass as a circle of tall walls of fire formed around Carayan and The Creator, locking them in a hellish arena. All the oxygen was instantly consumed from the air to fuel the raging hell, and before he could even speak, The Creator started to choke. He willed, and a barrier of impenetrable light formed around him, protecting him from the flames that Carayan summoned, but not from the suffocation.


    Carayan smiled a terrifying smile. He knew he had to be quick - when they devised this plan, Sphinx was adamant in the timing - and he focused the last remnants of energy in the projector to create pools of molten flame just beneath the shining sphere. The sand melted and The Creator started to sink into the glowing glass.


    More, more, more, burn him, burn them all, cleanse the world with flames!


    The voice screamed in Carayan¡¯s head, but the hatred was too strong to actually let the madness of the projector have any effect upon his mind. He poured everything, every last drop of will he had, into sinking the suffocating man deeper into the molten glass, entombing him forever.


    ***


    Auria blinked. She was back in the Deadvoid, kneeling on the black, cold ground. She was breathing heavily, each breath bringing a sharp pain to her head. Red circles formed in front of her eyes and she felt like fainting.


    ¡°Wha¡­¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve shown you the past, through my eyes, through my mind. You felt what I have felt, you have thought what I have thought that day. Now, it is up to you to decide whether you trust me or not. Now, leave the Deadvoid, and pray that it has not been too long, and that you still have a body to return to.¡±


    Auria was panting, her world was spinning around wildly and she could not recognize where the up and down was. ¡°Help¡­ me¡­¡±


    ¡°I can¡¯t. The Deadvoid is calling you, it already has its sticky tendrils wrapped around you. Leave, by your own will. Leave, or stay here forever.¡±


    Auria focused. All her will, all her power, she focused on one thought.


    Leave.

 Chapter 27 - Ripples

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    To heal first, to live second.


    Those words were burnt into Keena¡¯s mind as surely as if they were cut into her skin. She always thought that if that choice really came to be, if she had to decide whether to save someone or to save herself, she would not hesitate and do the right thing.


    Now, covered up to her neck in degrading, necrotic tissue of her classmate, Keena was not so sure anymore. She wondered whether she was already infected, whether she would live until next week¡¯s exams, whether she would be well enough to go on a date that she promised Ranil oh so long ago.


    Inside, she was trembling with terror, yet her hands were steel-steady as she made incisions and injected miraculous healing serums. The plague  was given the name of Inner Rot, for it spread inside the victim quickly without any symptoms, only to turn the insides to liquid, necrotic muck.


    The origins of this plague were uncertain, narrowed down to two possibilities - either the plague was brought by the thousands of refugees camped in front of the Citadel gates, or by an unknown silk trader that was treated and mercy-killed by Larais and her students several days ago.


    Although the second option was probably the correct one, hundreds of medics agreed with the first possibility. It was easier to blame the unknown people for bringing foreign filth with them than their own acting Triarch for not taking correct precautions after encountering the unknown sickness.


    ¡°Take a break, Keena.¡± Man¡¯s voice was as calming as his eyes. He put the strong, large hand on Keena¡¯s shoulder and smiled at her through the curtain of black curly hair. ¡°Write up today¡¯s count into the ledger, and get some sleep.¡±


    ¡°Put the hand down and wash yourself, you idiot.¡± She muttered towards the man. How did he convince me to go on a date? I still don¡¯t understand¡­ she thought to herself. ¡°How did you get here? We are quarantined.¡±


    For an answer, he started to cough violently, spewing black and green phlegm from his mouth. As he looked at his dirtied gloves, he chuckled nervously. ¡°I¡¯ll be fine, right?¡±


    Keena shifted her attention momentarily. ¡°You too? How? Did you get your treatment already?¡±


    Ranil nodded. ¡°I did. And I feel fine, honestly. I guess it¡¯s working.¡±


    Let¡¯s hope so¡­ Keena thought. Hundreds already laid either dead or dying, and the spread of the Inner Rot was far from contained, yet the treatment they applied seemed to be working, or at least slowing the sickness significantly. Sadly, a lot of medics and medical students had to die in the first few days of the epidemic for the treatment to be derived and tested out.


    ¡°Go lie down, and rest, Ranil. I¡¯ll be with you in a moment.¡± She said calmly, trembling with terror inside. I¡¯m gonna die¡­ She thought to herself, yet her body did what it was being trained to do. Inside, she shook, she felt sick, ready to vomit on command, just seconds away from breaking down, but on the outside, Keena was steady, calm and focused.


    ¡°Is that an order, your highness?¡± Ranil asked with a smile, before bursting into cough again. ¡°You¡¯re not home, you know. This is not the palace of the Malorean high lord, and I am above you in¡­¡±


    ¡°You are a spoiled brat, an arrogant idiot above nothing and no one. Either go lie down voluntarily, or I will make you.¡± Ice in her voice surprised him, yet Ranil had to admit that she was never as beautiful as she was now. Filthy, reeking with death, yet her chestnut ponytail shone like a single star on a dark sky, her focused face more attractive than anything he had ever seen, the delicate movements of her gloved fingers more enticing than the show of dancers from Rooskuria. Reluctantly and without a word, he shuffled away.


    Keena sighed. Being the daughter of a Malorean high lord, she knew that she would be pushed away, boxed and labeled as a royal brat. She never got used to it, and it irritated her that even after so many years, she was still labeled as someone she was not.


    This was her home. This was her life now, this was her purpose.


    Hours later, she sat in the shower, crying. Tears were streaming down her face in salty rivers, her body shook with both mental and physical exhaustion. Again, as it often happened before, she thought about giving up, about renouncing her healer¡¯s oath¡­


    And again, as it often happened, words of her former mentor sprang into Keena¡¯s mind. She remembered how Auria looked that day, her beautiful face covered by a veil of snow-white hair, her smile that melted glaciers, and her deep eyes, filled with all the sadness, misery and death Auria saw and felt in her life¡­


    ¡°There will be times when you will want to give up, to crawl into the dark corner and cry silently, never to be seen again. You will burn out, your mind will give up much sooner than your body. Nobody will be as strong an enemy for you as yourself, your own thoughts and doubts, your overthinking and overanalyzing. You will feel useless and worthless, unnecessary even. You will feel inadequate, not enough¡­ And that is okay. That is normal. With all the misery that will surround you in your life, it is normal to feel such things. It should not be normal, but it is. Remember one thing - no one can do what you do. No one walks in your shoes but yourself. You matter, and if you don¡¯t do your work - if you don¡¯t help those around you that need help, no one will.¡±


    This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.


    Reminding herself of Auria¡¯s words steeled her up, as it always did. She liked her - Auria was one of few mentors that Keena actually enjoyed studying under. Shame that she always traveled somewhere. But maybe once, she will take me with herself¡­ Keena thought with a smile on her face. Maybe once, she will let me help her heal the world.


    Her tears stayed in the shower along with her doubts and worries. With memories of Auria in her mind, she dressed herself up into clean medic¡¯s robes and went back to infirmary.


    I can do a few more hours¡­. I know that she would.


    ***


    Morro watched wordlessly as former refugees - now paid workers - heaved heavy boxes of artillery ammunition aboard the Scythe. One bad movement, one box hits the ground, and we may blow up¡­ he thought to himself, dismayed and irritated at the same time.


    The plague that hit the Citadel¡¯s population made it necessary for refugees to be used as a paid workforce, and truth be told, most of them took the opportunity with gratitude. They had a chance to build their lives anew, and they were not going to throw that away.


    At least, most of them.


    He turned away from the workers and watched the blue horizon. He almost could not discern where the sky ended and the sea began and he smiled unexpectedly at that sight.


    ¡°I¡¯ll never get tired of this, Layana.¡±


    ¡°Sir?¡± She asked cautiously. Seeing him in such a good mood was as rare as a falling star.


    ¡°The sea.¡± He looked around from the top of the bridge-tower of Scythe, admiring each of Citadel¡¯s ships shortly. ¡°The fleet.¡± His sight ended at large artillery cannons of his own ship. ¡°The genius of human engineering, thousands of calculations and equations necessary for all this around us to be able to sail¡­¡±


    Sudden scream followed by a loud clang of falling steel stopped his words. He turned his head quickly and saw a group of workers running away from the cargo pier.


    ¡°What the hell is happening?¡± His good mood was gone, as quickly as it came. He ran down the stairs followed by Layana, ran through the deck of Scythe quickly and leaned over the starboard railing to see what spooked the workers.


    As soon as he saw it, his mouth dried up and his throat clenched.


    A single five-limbed creature was struggling to climb from the water atop the pier, its trembling limbs seemingly unable to pull its weight up from the water. Hundreds of small holes in its skin were slowly pulsing, reminding Morro of a man out of breath. Needle-like teeth in the shrieks¡¯ mouth clattered against one another as its mouth opened and closed again and again.


    ¡°Shriek!¡± Layana cried out as she pulled her revolving gun from the holster and aimed it at the creature. Morro stopped her. ¡°No. We need to catch it alive. We need to¡­¡±


    Although Layana did not kill the shriek, someone else did. Thundering of multiple gunshots was followed by shrieks¡¯ wailing, the creature¡¯s dying scream sending shivers down Morro¡¯s spine and clenching his stomach in a vice grip.


    ¡°Fuck! We need to study them, and we need to study them alive!¡± He shrouded furiously. His shouts were soon drowned in a cacophony of gunshots, coming from ships all around the docks, and in the terror screams of workers running for their lives away from the water.


    Layana turned towards him with a serious face. ¡°Something tells me that there will be a lot of opportunities for that, sir.¡±


    ***


    They were trapped in the dark. Walls made of wet wood were covered by white, fluffy fungi. They were dotted with holes and through them, hot air was coming inside...


    Squeaking and rattling of rusty wheels mixed with moaning of twisted, malformed figures laying all around. Bodies marked with tumorous growths, horn growths and weeping wounds were pressed together in the mixture of filth, heat and stink. There was nowhere to move. There was nowhere to run...


    The carriage has stopped. A wooden wall disappeared and bodies pressed against it fell down from the carriage onto the hot, sandy ground. Monsters covered in golden scales started to sort through the bodies and drag them away, being as gentle with them as with a pile of horse shit in the middle of the road. The moaning of suffering figures was getting more intense...


    Her fall to the ground was painful, but not more than what followed. A golden-scaled hand grabbed her, scraping the skin on her upper arm while his other hand hit her across the face. Her once white hair, now darkened with filth, started to change color again ¨C this time to blood red. The world was fading in front of her eyes, the wicked grin of a gold-clad man chasing her into the darkness¡­


    Something was wrong. Something changed.


    The projector rose above her shoulders, mercilessly seeking its next target. The man was impaled just a moment after, life draining out of him before her own eyes. She was filled with joy, with incomprehensible bliss and pleasure. As she turned her head and threw the drained husk of a man on the ground, she was ready to kill anyone in her way. All the golden monsters would suffer what they deserve¡­


    But they did not. The dream repeated itself. Again and again, she was back in the disintegrating wooden wagon, barely breathing, barely staying alive. Each time, the dream ended with her wielding the projector, but each time, the dream was a little bit different. She killed the man once, twice, thirty times, and then moved on to other targets, yet before she could kill them all, before she could escape that hellish place, she was again in that same wagon.


    It did not happen this way¡­ She reminded herself in thoughts. Don¡¯t twist your memories. You did not have a projector back then¡­ Remember the truth, Auria. Remember what really happened¡­.


    She woke up with an ear-tearing scream.


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 Chapter 28 - Destination reached

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    The mouth of a cave looked exactly as he remembered it. It was a large hole of right angles that reassured him that it was not created by nature but by the hands and tools of skilled artisans. Carvings surrounded the cave entrance - strange angular signs that perhaps were once words, yet time wore them down to but a remnant of their former glory.


    Iarvahr looked above the cave and basked in the glory of the majestic wall above it. Once, he was intimidated by it - the tales of Glaerians told of flame-spewing machines that obliterated anyone that dared to venture closer. Now, he felt a connection with the flame-spitters. He felt them, and he knew they felt him, he knew that they even recognized him - or, more accurately, the devices embedded into his back.


    What exactly are those projectors, I wonder¡­ He thought to himself, only to throw such thoughts away as not important. What was important was his quest, his goal to revive Leonie, and he knew that the answer laid in front of him.


    As he neared the entrance, his mind felt somewhat lighter, as if a huge burden that laid upon him dropped pebble by pebble from inside of his head. He passed through the entrance, wondering if the insides of the cave complex will be just the same as he remembered it¡­


    A freezing sensation ran across his body as if he jumped to an icy lake. He started to shake feverishly, madly looking around himself to find a source of that sensation. It all happened just as he walked through the entryway and he noticed small blinking green lights above him in the ceiling, but other than that, there was nothing¡­


    There was literally nothing. The presence of projectors faded away from his mind as the metallic arms lifelessly collapsed on the ground, pulling heavily on the skin and bones in his back. He tried to move them, but they did not move an inch however much he willed them to.


    He blinked in surprise and felt as if he just woke up from a nightmare. It was as if just now, he remembered all the vile things he had done on his way here - attacking his own friend, killing his own people in Citadel, killing all the innocent people on his way here¡­


    He fell to his knees and vomited. The projectors affected him heavily, clouding his judgment, twisting his mind¡­ Tears streamed down his cheeks, his body spasming uncontrollably as if he tried to vomit all the evil he had caused away from himself¡­


    After a short while, he came together and looked around slowly. I¡¯m here. This is what I wanted, isn¡¯t it? It was too late now to undo what he had done. He did it all to bring Leone back, and now, he was here¡­


    Iarvahr got up on his shaky legs, and pressed forward. In front of him, he remembered an entrance to a large hall where most of the fighting happened. Iarvahr entered the room cautiously, his heart pounding in his chest as he beheld the grim sight before him. The air was thick with the stench of blood, piss and shit, and the dim lights hanging from the ceiling cast deep shadows across the floor littered with the twisted forms of corpses - the bodies of the deformed, their limbs contorted in unnatural angles, their faces frozen in expressions of agony.


    His stomach churned at the sight, bile rising in his throat once more. He forced himself to focus, pushing past the waves of sickness and disgust. He needed to hold on to the last bits of sanity to find answers he needed in all this madness.


    Something was wrong. Months have passed since he came here, yet the bodies here seemed as if they were freshly cut down. These could not have been the deformed he left here¡­


    The unnatural met impossible with each step he took. Either these were corpses of fresh mutants, or something prevented them from decomposing, which would mean that her body would still be here, in the same state he left her¡­


    He combed through the piles of dead bodies frantically, looking for one particular body, yet she was missing. There was no sign of her among the dead, no trace of her delicate features or the deep wound in her throat. Panic clawed at his chest, threatening to overwhelm him as he frantically called out her name, his voice echoing off the cold, stone walls.


    "Leonie! Where are you?" he cried, his words ringing hollow in the silence of the chamber. ¡°I am here! Just as you wanted!¡± But there was no answer, no voice to reassure him that came to the right place, that all that he did was not in vain.


    ¡°She¡¯s not here¡­¡± He muttered to himself, tears once again running down his face.


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    The projectors were dead in here, and he had no idea how to continue what he had started. A choice was in front of him. He could return outside, where the projectors might work once again, yet he would lose control once again¡­ Or he could search through these tunnels unaided and alone, hoping for the best.


    His stomach churned and Iarvahr realized that he had not eaten for days. The projectors pumped him with drained energy, yet now, he felt as hungry as never before. Quickly, he threw his backpack down and scurried through rations, only to realize that there weren¡¯t any. Dismayed, he realized that he would need to leave this cave and find some food in order to survive¡­ But what if as soon as he left this place, the projectors would take control over him and force him to return here?


    With a heavy sigh that only the dead would hear, he closed his eyes and tried to calm down. Everything was wrong. He was supposed to heal people, to help people and instead, he brought only death and destruction. Leonie, Suranihr, those people that he killed on the way here¡­ Maybe if he brought Leonie back, he could bring more people back. Maybe, somehow, he would be able to heal the death!


    Sudden burst of mirth did not last long. He had no idea how to bring her back, and if the projectors did not work here, he doubted that she would commune with him in his dreams¡­


    Smile spread across his face. She spoke to me even before I had these things in me¡­ he realized, as he laid down next to a dotted wall that eroded in time. Calm down, focus. Close your eyes, and try to sleep. She will surely come¡­


    ***


    ¡°So, that rifle you had¡­¡± Suranihr began talking to break the long silence that hung around the small campfire. Naira looked at him questionably, but did not answer in any other way.


    ¡°Did you make it?¡± He asked, and Naira nodded. ¡°I did. Why?¡±


    ¡°It seems¡­ highly advanced. I¡¯m used to revolving guns, but that thing of yours¡­ I¡¯ve seen you disassemble it and clean it and at a first glance, it looked like you had disassembled a rifle only to be left with a short pistol.¡±


    She nodded, and after a brief thought, she took it out of her leather holster and handed Basilisk over to him. He took the weapon with utmost care, surprised by how light it was. ¡°It weighs barely more than a dagger. How?¡±


    ¡°My¡­ late husband devised a special alloy. I will not bother you with details, but it is as strong and durable as a quenched steel, yet weighs only a fraction compared to it.¡±


    ¡°So you¡¯ve been married.¡± He muttered while admiring the masterwork. The handle was a combination of wood and metal with a delicately engraved head of lizard on the wooden part. The barrel was long and thick, reminding him more of a naval one-shot hand cannon than a multi-shot gun. As he noticed more and more details, his respect towards Naira grew.


    ¡°Yes.¡± She nodded. ¡°But we are not talking about our love lives, we are discussing weapons. What are you using?¡± She asked with genuine interest. Suranihr chuckled and handed over his own weapons to her. Before she could take them, a soul-tearing scream woke them up and Naira¡¯s gauntlets sent a trembling sensation through her arms. ¡°Something is wrong.¡± She shouted while springing up, followed closely by Suranihr. Other people ran out of their tents, looking around wildly, seeking imminent danger.


    It took merely a second, yet they found Auria sitting in her bed, trembling and holding her head in her hands. She moaned painfully as she rocked her body forwards and backwards.


    ¡°Auria, are you¡­¡± Suranihr¡¯s words were cut off by a stream of black bile that splashed out from Auria¡¯s mouth. He had no idea what to do and by the looks of it, Naira was also helpless. Other people ran inside the large tent - to his shame, Suranihr did not bother remembering their names - yet just as quickly as they came, the sight of black bile accompanied by a sulfurous smell made them quickly back out.


    ¡°Give¡­ me¡­¡± Auria moaned as she looked at them with widely open eyes. No longer holding her head, she clawed at the black veins in her face and body, scratching her skin almost to blood. ¡°Give¡­ It¡­¡±


    After a brief consideration, Naira jumped to Auria¡¯s medical bag and quickly rummaged through it until she found a vial filled with thick grayish liquid. She quickly opened it and took a little of the liquid into an empty syringe she found. She handed the syringe over to Auria, yet her trembling hands could not hold it and the syringe fell and broke apart.


    She moaned loudly, pressing her nails deeply into the skin on her face. ¡°You¡­ do¡­¡±


    Naira shook her head slowly. ¡°I¡­ I cannot.¡±


    ¡°Naira!¡± Auria screamed wildly. ¡°Do¡­ it!¡± Yet Naira did not move. She looked at Suranihr, begging him with her eyes to do it instead of her and he nodded, quickly repeating the process of filling up another syringe. ¡°Where?¡± He asked Auria. Her body trembled, yet she was able to raise her black-veined hand. ¡°Vein¡­¡± a single moan came out of her, as Naira took her right hand and forcibly held it to stop the trembling movements. Suranihr muttered a curse under his breath and slowly pushed the needle through Auria¡¯s skin right into the dark vein. He pressed all the liquid into her body and she sighed in relief as the potent narcotics quickly overcame pain receptors in her body. Her body fell back into a cushioned bedroll. ¡°Thanks¡­¡± She whispered softly. ¡°Can you¡­ bring me some food?¡±


    Naira nodded and looked at Suranihr. ¡°I also thank you.¡± She growled as she paced out of the tent in search of rations. Suranihr sighed. ¡°Auria, what the fuck is all this? What the fuck is happening, all around us?¡± He sat down heavily next to her and lit up his pipe. Auria smiled widely, her gaze softened by narcotic bliss. ¡°This is my life, Suranihr. Get used to it if you want to travel with me.¡±


    He looked at her, staring intently into her eyes. ¡°Pain, bile, blood, death, fear¡­ You have a shitty life, if you ask me.¡±


    In response, she only laughed.


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 Chapter 29 - Not all that glitters is gold

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    She got used to the positive effects the projector had on her body rather quickly - the constant, debilitating headaches were gone, and she quickly embraced the freedom that was offered. Now, the headaches had returned, accompanied by unrelenting itchiness and burning of her black veined body. Something was happening to her, something was changing her, and not for the better.


    She tried to heal herself but to her dismay, Auria realized that she no longer could properly feel herself through the projector. When she focused on Suranihr or Harian, she saw their body to the last detail - she knew where all the veins, even the smallest ones were, all the nerve endings, all the organs¡­ She felt everything that was wrong, everything that was right, and everything that could be modified by a mere thought.


    When she focused on Naira, she felt only the gauntlets, and when she focused on herself, her senses were quickly overwhelmed by the presence of thick, black sludge where the blood vessels should be.  Nothing more, nothing less.


    She tried to focus on that, to cast it out of her body. Instead, the blackness spread further - merely by half an inch, but still - and a throbbing pain in her blackened eye made her crash back into the painful reality.


    Auria tried the approach of traditional medicine. She took a blood sample from her blackened vein, yet the blood seemed completely normal - without the proper equipment available to alchemists in the Citadel, she was unable to find any irregularities in it. She tried the most powerful universal potions, serums and poultices, yet her body acted as if it mostly rejected them.


    Strongest narcotics had only a minor impact on her. The dose that would make the trained man of Harian¡¯s or Suranihr¡¯s physique catatonic for days only numbed her pain slightly and made her dizzy for a short while. What was worse, they were quickly running out.


    She wondered whether this was the madness that Sphinx wrote about, whether the decay of her own body caused by the projector would also mean the decay of her mind, but at the moment, it was too soon to tell.


    She kept herself mostly isolated, trying not to talk to anyone, not to touch anyone¡­ She pondered about all that happened to her since the projector nested itself in her spine. She tried to find a pattern in all the effects it had, yet she realized that there were no clear answers for her, only the confusion. She remembered the visions she had - the great wall, the citadel fleet, Whispers, golden army¡­ Why did she have them? How?


    When she drained the people, she saw glimpses of their memories¡­ Perhaps those visions she had for the first time were also the memories of someone long dead. The last victims of the projector perhaps¡­


    No. She saw the citadel fleet, and she saw it in the present, of that Auria was sure. So how then¡­


    ***


    Harian galloped towards Suranihr and Naira, quickly jumping down from his horse. ¡°An hour and we will be at the gates of Celeanae, provided that we actually reach the gates.¡± He said to Suranihr. He and Naira lead the convoy, with the rest of their group behind them and Auria alone in the back, closing the procession.


    ¡°What do you mean?¡± Suranihr asked with a bad feeling.


    ¡°An army. Thousands of them are camped in front of the city. Merchants and travelers have to pass right through their encampment to actually reach the gates.¡±


    ¡°It is a large city. I have seen the map. There are multiple gates.¡± Naira pointed out, to which Harian shook his head. ¡°You don¡¯t understand. The whole city is circled by golden legions. I¡¯ve seen multiple banners - black banners of Broken Spears, carmine detachments of Setting Sun,   blue of Lions, bronze standards of Unbroken¡­ I could name them for an hour.¡±


    ¡°They are preparing for something.¡± Suranihr muttered, and Harian nodded.


    ¡°They appear to be preparing for an all out assault.¡±


    ¡°That might be our luck. They would not bother with controlling all the carriages and travelers that aim for the city. Perhaps their presence is all that is necessary to repel all potential threats from the city.¡±


    ¡°We are not a threat, Suranihr.¡± Naira stated. No one disagreed with her, yet they all knew that the opposite was true.


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    ¡°So, what should we do, Harian?¡±


    Harian shrugged. ¡°Nothing. Either they will let us into the city, or not. If they won¡¯t let us pass, that means that there is no reason for us to even try any¡­ peace talks, or whatever it is that we actually came to do here. If they let us through, it is a good sign. What can we lose?¡±


    ¡°Our lives.¡± Naira said coldly. ¡°But I agree. We come in peace. Either they accept it, or there is no reason for us to try and force our way through.¡±


    ¡°And if they attack us on sight?¡± Suranihr asked.


    ¡°I¡¯ll kill them all.¡± Auria said as she appeared behind Naira. They all looked at her - there wasn¡¯t a hint of uncertainty in her face.


    ¡°You do not mean it, Auria.¡± Naira said softly, but Auria grinned. ¡°I do. For all they did to me, they deserve nothing less. I will give them one last chance - I will accomplish my mission of peace, if they will let me do so. If not, they can all rot for all I care.¡±


    ¡°What did they do to you?¡± Suranihr asked, confused.


    ¡°She made the connection.¡± Naira muttered, to which Auria nodded. ¡°She realized that the golden dragons from her dreams were Glaerians.¡±


    ¡°I always knew.¡± Auria¡¯s voice was as cold and sharp as Death''s scythe. ¡°I¡¯ve just always pushed those thoughts away. But no more. No longer.¡± Eyebrow above her blackened eye twitched. ¡°I can¡¯t run from myself anymore.¡±


    ***


    Auria expected to see a marvel of architecture, a colossal walled city in the middle of untamed wilderness, forged entirely from gleaming gold. She expected majestic walls towering up to the skies, their surface adorned with carvings of legendary battles or perhaps mythical creatures, and beyond the walls, she expected the realm of luxury and grandeur.


    The only luxurious thing about the city was the huge building in its heart - a grand cathedral with polished brass rooftops that glinted in the noon sun, yet the cathedral was surrounded by ordinary brown rooftops of aged tiles, sitting atop daunting, gray stonework. The further her eyes went from the cathedral and closer it went to the city walls, the buildings were much simpler and aged, some of them even crumbling underneath their own weight. To state it bluntly, Auria was disappointed in the golden city.


    On the other hand, the brass-clad army surrounding the city was really awe-inspiring. She focused the telescope she borrowed from Naira upon the scores of soldiers stationed underneath hundreds of colored banners, their ranks stretching as far as her eye could see, brass of their armor gleaming like the sun itself. Even at the distance, she could hear the noise the thousands of soldiers were causing.


    Myriads of travelers - traders, farmers, nobles and common folk alike - traveled on the large cobbled road to the city, walled from both sides by thousands of Glaerian soldiers. They were paid little to no attention.


    ¡°We should pass through the gates without problems.¡± She muttered as she handed the telescope back to Naira.


    ¡°Onwards then.¡± Suranihr sighed. ¡°I don¡¯t like this. It feels like walking into the pit of snakes.¡±


    ¡°Oh believe me, it is much worse.¡± Harian said through clenched teeth.


    ***


    Iarvahr was surrounded by pitch black darkness. His breathing echoed through the void, giving him a claustrophobic sense of being buried alive. ¡°Hello?¡± He shouted, his voice returning to him distorted. ¡°Leonie?¡± Silence was the answer.


    He ran, without seeing his body, without seeing his surroundings, he ran. He put foot in front of another foot, stepping into something wet and cold, dry and hot, into nothing and into everything. Sharp stones tore up his soles but at the same time, his feet were caressed by a soft mossy carpet. He ran, pushing against the unmovable wall, falling down the hole, climbing up the hill¡­ Yet he did not move at all. He knew that whatever he tried, he stayed at the same place that he was a second, a minute, an hour before.


    ¡°Where are you?¡± He screamed, again and again, until his lungs bled. Or did he? Did he shout it once, twice, or a million times? He wasn¡¯t sure anymore¡­


    ¡°Here.¡± Her voice came to him flying on a soft wind and he turned his head, staring into her bleeding throat-wound. It encompassed everything, the void disappeared and he drowned in the blood streaming down her pale neck, swimming through the gore he caused with the blade¡­


    Something pulled him out of the blood and held him by his neck in the air. He suffocated although he did not breathe, he struggled although there was nothing around him.


    ¡°Find me a body. Build me a body. Bring me back.¡± Her voice was rasp, dry and cruel, reminding him of something entirely else than his beloved¡­


    ¡°You¡¯re not her.¡± Iarvahr muttered. ¡°You¡¯re not Leonie.¡±


    Laughter answered him. ¡°And the hammer hits the nail. But you have no choice. You¡¯re where you were supposed to go. You leave, the projectors overtake your will. You stay, and you will die. There is only one thing you can do.¡±


    Iarvahr blinked as a man formed in front of him out of pitch black darkness. He wore strange clothes made of a  smooth, reflective material Iarvahr had never seen before that absorbed light instead of reflecting it. His face constantly changed and in a mere moment, Iarvahr had looked into the eyes of a thousand souls.


    ¡°As I¡¯ve said before...¡± The man said through a wide smile. ¡°Find me a body and bring me back. And then¡­¡± A chain appeared in the man¡¯s hand, its other end coiled around the neck of Iarvahr¡¯s beloved Leonie. ¡°I will let you bring her back to life.¡±


    Iarvahr wanted to move towards her, yet found himself glued to where he stood. ¡°Is that you, Leonie¡­¡± He whispered, and the chained woman nodded slowly. ¡°I am¡­ Please, Iarvahr, help me..¡±


    This time, it was her. There was no doubt. The voice, the intonation, the love with which she said his name¡­


    Fury mixed with despair rose in Iarvahr as he turned towards the man. ¡°Who are you?¡± He asked, rage dripping from his mouth.


    The man smiled widely. ¡°I am The Creator, and you will obey.¡±


    ***

 Chapter 30 - The seed of decay

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    Auria tried to hide the discomfort she felt as they passed the scores of war-ready soldiers that camped along the road. She wanted to scream, to vent out years of pushed-back fury and rage, to lash out with the projector and burn them all to the crisp¡­


    But that would put her companions at a risk she wasn¡¯t willing to take. Naira was her family, her sister, her oldest friend, and she grew very fond of both Suranihr and Harian in the past days. The rest of their group, although not as close to her as her friends, were still part of their peace envoy. They were still her kinsmen, the people from her home, and she felt obliged to protect them.


    Protect them¡­ Those words resonated in her head as she watched brass-clad killers all around her. Protect them from what?


    From sickness and pain was the obvious answer, yet as her eyes darted from one brass helmet to another, she knew that the legion around her presented a much more real and imminent threat than a not-yet existing sickness might.


    Shivers ran down her spine as they passed along the regiment with crimson-colored chalice on their banners. Auria realized that she saw the chalice already, along with the scaled golden-colored armor the officers of that regiment wore. She realized that it was one of that regiment that tormented her nightmares - and her past self.


    Her eyes were locked in that direction, her whole body stiffened as her horse carried her along their ranks. Few faces rose to meet her, only to pay her as much attention as they would to a pile of stinking garbage. But each sight that fell upon her felt like a stinging pain of her past wounds, and with each pair of eyes she met, a memory surfaced of her being pissed on by a laughing golden dragon.


    A wave of throbbing pain overcame her head and her head spun. She grabbed the reins of her horse tightly, trying not to fall down while never taking her sight away from the golden monsters they passed. She felt a pressure building up within her, waiting to be released like steam from a vessel. Each beat of her heart stabbed her mind like a hot knife, sending shivers through her blackened veins that burned with boiling oil flowing within them. The pain, the anguish, the torment, rage and fury, everything was whirling inside the vortex of her mind, the forgotten past battling the clear present, the pain of forgotten years bleeding into her body through her blackened eye.


    She saw herself, lying in the dirt, bleeding, reeking of fresh piss.


    She saw herself in a damp dungeon, covered head to toe with blood, pus and filth, dismembered and disfigured bodies covering the wet stones around her.


    She saw herself lying in the sweat-drenched bed, the reek of fresh semen filling her nostrils, the huge hand of an obese man caressing her tiny body.


    And then, in a blink of her black eye, she saw Naira instead of herself. She saw her sister being tortured, beaten, cut open, pissed upon, mutilated and degraded, used and abused.


    Another blink, and Naira¡¯s place was taken by Harian.


    Blink. Suranihr.


    Blink. All the color drained from her world as she looked a young soldier straight into his green - now dark gray - eyes. A soft smile cradled his lips as he watched her - there was no malice, no evil in his face. No bad intent, no violence radiating from his eyes.


    Blink.


    She saw the veins that connected his eyes with his heart, she saw the nerves that webbed underneath his skin.


    Blink.


    She saw his lungs as they enlarged and collapsed slightly with each breath he took.


    Blink.


    She saw his stomach filling itself with acid to digest the freshly eaten rations.


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    Blink.


    She saw the oily black film that manifested itself in the insides of his lungs. As she willed her thoughts through the projector into that young man¡¯s body, a vile disease was being born out of her own hate and rage, out of her own pain and suffering. With each thought she sent through the projector, the pain in her mind subsided slightly, until it was all gone.


    She blinked again, focusing on her own thoughts. The disease in that man would be spread quickly - by cough, by spit, by blood. One by one, each golden fuck in the brass-clad legion would be infected, each of them will try to cough out their lungs until their throats will crack and bleed. Each of them will try to claw out their own insides for all the itch and burning they will feel.


    Auria grinned with the smile of a madwoman. But they will not die, oh no. Most of them will live, and most of them will suffer, breathless and in constant agony. Shivers ran across her body as she realized what she had just caused, and a soft voice in her head kept asking her whether that was a right thing to do. She turned her head, finally looking away from the crimson chalice regiment to seek out the forms of her closest companions. To protect them¡­ From pain, from suffering¡­  Her head turned again towards the golden legion. ¡°From evil.¡± She whispered silently, the corners of her mouth twitching in a grin. Yes, I have done the right thing.


    ***


    Just as expected, the entry to the Celeanae was as guarded as the virginity of a brothel worker and as they passed unobstructed underneath the archway of a large gate, Auria and her companions found themselves in the heart of the poorer district, where the air was thick with the scent of desperation and despair. Ramshackle houses crowded together in narrow alleyways, their windows shuttered against the harsh realities of life outside. The streets were alive with frenzied activity, where every step seemed to carry the weight of struggle and survival. Beggars lined the streets, their outstretched hands a silent plea for mercy in a world that had long forgotten them.


    As they made their way deeper into the district, the sounds of the bustling city faded into the background, replaced by the distant cries of children playing in the alleys and the clatter of pots and pans from cramped kitchens. Here, amidst the poverty and squalor, Auria and her companions felt a sense of unease, as if they were trespassing in a world that did not belong to them.


    ¡°Where to now?¡± Auria asked, uncertain of their next actions.


    ¡°We need to find ourselves an inn or a tavern. Some place where we will be able to plan ahead, quietly and undisturbed.¡± Naira said as she looked towards Harian. During their journey, the whole envoy came to see Harian as their sort of leader - the one to find or make the way, the one to decide their next course of action.


    He looked at the small crowd of their envoy, thinking. ¡°We will split. Donorran, I give you the responsibility for the civilian group.¡± Harian said towards a hulking citadel guard that traveled with them, and the man immediately nodded. ¡°No later than in a week, we will meet here and depart this city. If one of the groups won¡¯t be here, the other leaves.¡± Donorran nodded again and hurried to unload the belongings of Auria and her companions from the carriages.


    ¡°And us?¡± Auria asked calmly. She saw logic in splitting the group - there was no reason for the supporting staff of their envoy to risk anymore than they needed to, and she had a bad feeling that there would be plenty of risk ahead of her.


    Harian took a deep breath. ¡°I know a place.¡±


    ***


    Shadows danced across the worn wooden floors as the soft glow of candlelight illuminated the faces of weary patrons. The air was thick with the smell of ale and smoke, mingling with the murmur of hushed conversations that echoed off the walls like distant whispers.


    At a corner table, Heers hid himself behind a mug of ale, watching his surroundings uneasily. He had a strange feeling of being watched himself, yet he was uncertain by what or who. He half-expected a visit from one of Anaids¡¯ messengers, yet no one came to him in what felt like an eternity. He was alone, his days crept one after another, and nothing happened¡­ Yet he felt like something was supposed to happen. Without any concrete reason, Heers felt like the world was going to explode, but he was unsure of what was going to be the spark.


    His attention was drawn to the entrance as the heavy wooden door swung open, admitting a group of four figures into the dimly lit room. Two men entered first, and although dressed in dirty rags, they had the looks of seasoned soldiers upon them. Women followed them - one with charcoal-black hair, her face devoid of emotions yet her eyes shone brightly with immense knowledge and wild, quick intelect.


    It was the second woman that caught his full attention. Half of her face was hidden beneath the veil of her pale, dirty hair. Heers almost choked on his ale as her face turned towards him for an instant and he saw a glint of her hidden eye, as black as the darkest night, surrounded by a web of black veins. They moved with purpose, their steps measured and deliberate as they scanned the crowded space with wary eyes.


    Heers observed them silently. There was something about them, a quiet intensity that set them apart from the other patrons in the tavern. Their body language spoke louder than any words could ¨C they were on edge, ready to lash out and strike with but a hint of threat.


    He could not take his eyes away from the white-haired woman. Shivers ran down his spine and sweat drenched his clothes. Heers  felt like he was watching not a woman, but a flame - a spark - that would ignite his world, and the world of everyone else, and turn it upside down.

 Chapter 31 - The scent of death

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    They sat down around the largest table that was unoccupied, relatively isolated away from prying ears. From the moment they entered the tavern, all of them felt watched, scouted and observed. Each of them felt threatened to a degree that varied depending on their own experience. Harian was calm on the outside, yet in his mind, he had already prepared multiple scenarios of how to dispatch all possible threats quickly. Suranihr wondered how many of the ragged, reeking people around him had daggers hidden underneath their clothes. Naira felt the worst of them all, realizing that in such an enclosed space, all of her explosive or volatile weaponry would be either too dangerous or too cumbersome to use efficiently¡­


    Auria was completely calm. Her projector was comfortably tucked in what looked like an ordinary backpack, yet she was intuitively using it to scan everybody around her. She knew that in this room, in this whole tavern, there was not a soul that posed a real threat to them¡­ Or was there?


    A bolt shot from a small, hand-held crossbow would kill her as surely as a dagger buried into her heart, and there were plenty of people in the room with them, all of them watching her with bloodshot eyes, tense faces and quick, jerking movements¡­


    But there was one particular person that reeked of death. Not that he was a trained killer but Auria literally smelled death rising from his clothes, skin and dark hair. He tried to hide his stare, yet his eyes often flicked towards her unrelenting gaze. He was the only one in the room she did not observe through the projector. He did not fit in among the common rabble.


    His face was that of an aristocrat - proud and stern, marred by wrinkles around his eyes that spoke of thousands of hard decisions that were laid upon his broad shoulders. Although he tried to look like a commoner, a slight twitch in the corners of his mouth each time he took a sip of sour ale revealed that he was used to a much finer drink, perhaps sweet red wine from Ladrurg or honeyed Malorean beer.  And the language of his body¡­ Auria was reminded of a walking corpse, of someone that had already died and was given a second chance, to start anew, rise again from nothing, yet he did not look like he was enjoying that second chance. His body was tense, poised to strike, hate and fury emanating from each slight movement he made¡­


    For a moment, she saw someone else sitting in front of her - an everchanging face of The Creator - but she realized that those two were miles away from each other. She realized her own wrong assumptions - it was not just the hate that emanated from the man, there was something else¡­ A purpose. A vengeance, perhaps?


    But why did he look at her? Why only her?


    ¡°Look away, Auria. You¡¯re staring at him for too long.¡± Harian¡¯s voice brought her back to reality. She coughed and a stab of pain lashed through her head, which made her instinctively reach for the pipe and herbal mixture. ¡°It wasn¡¯t intentional. He keeps staring at me.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve noticed. But I don¡¯t think he poses us any threat.¡± Harian smiled at them reassuringly. ¡°I feel like I¡¯ve seen him somewhere¡­¡±


    ¡°Me too.¡± Suranihr nodded. ¡°But I can¡¯t place him.¡±


    ¡°Same here. His face is¡­ really familiar.¡± Auria muttered, more to herself than to anybody else.


    ¡°We should find out why he is as interested in us as he looks.¡± Naira muttered. ¡°But in a way that he would not expect.¡±


    ¡°What do you mean?¡± Auria asked with honest curiosity.


    ¡°He showed obvious interest - perhaps it is a trap. Perhaps he expects one of us to follow him out of this place, somewhere¡­ I propose that we do something he would never anticipate.¡±


    ¡°And that would be¡­?¡±


    Naira turned towards Auria. ¡°We should either invite him to sit with us, or you should walk straight towards him and sit down. We will observe, and act if necessary.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s¡­¡± Suranihr started, but did not finish the sentence. Instead, Harian laughed loudly. ¡°Not a bad idea at all. Well, medic, it¡¯s up to you to choose the course of action. What do you think would unsettle him more?¡±


    ***


    Argyl woke up with nausea clenching his stomach in a vice. Slowly, he tried to rise from his bed, only to realize that he was strapped securely to a surgeon¡¯s table. Above him, the eyes of a young woman with her mouth hidden beneath a layer of white cloth watched him intently.


    ¡°Rest, triarch. You will be alright, but you need to rest.¡±


    ¡°Where am I?¡± Argyl asked with a raspy voice, his mouth drier than Rooskurian desert.


    ¡°You¡¯ve collapsed.¡± Larais appeared above him, her mouth hidden behind the cloth as well. ¡°We¡¯ve suspected that you came down with the plague that is spreading through the Citadel, but luckily, that was not the case.¡±


    ¡°Why am I strapped? Give me water¡­¡± Argyl started to shake his arms as much as restraints allowed him to. ¡°Get it off, now.¡± His voice, although coming from a dried mouth, was strong and commanding. Soon, the straps were undone and he held a half-emptied pitcher of cool water. ¡°Why did you strap me?¡±


    ¡°You thrashed around. Violently, I might add. You hurt my¡­ helper.¡± Young medic said without a hint of mirth. ¡°You were brought here with plague in mind, and so we treated you with plague in mind. Luckily, it worked well enough and you are fine, for now.¡±


    ¡°Meaning?¡± He turned towards the young medic, a bad feeling nestled in his nauseous gut.


    Both women were silent for a short moment, and Argyl repeated himself. ¡°Meaning?¡± Anger colored his voice.


    ¡°You are quarantined.¡± Larais said resolutely.


    ¡°I am what now?¡± Argyl could not hide the surprise.


    ¡°I have patients to tend to.¡± Young medic said as she turned to leave. ¡°This is no longer my concern. At the moment, you are healthy, triarch, and I wish that I will not see you again on my table.¡±


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    ¡°Thank you, Keena.¡± Larais bowed her head slightly towards the young medic. ¡° This is indeed no longer your concern.¡± She turned towards Argyl and took down the cloth from her face. ¡°Listen to me. You were poisoned. What is it you remember last?¡±


    ¡°I¡­ What? Poisoned?¡± Nausea hit him again, his vision spun around, his body spasmed slightly.


    ¡°Focus Argyl. Is there anyone you¡¯ve been with that you don¡¯t know? A new cook, maid? Any new whores you¡¯ve used, some Glaerian girls perhaps?¡±


    His face showed a hint of hurt. ¡°Fuck you, Larais. You think of me that low?¡±


    She rolled her eyes. ¡°I am trying to save your life, not your ego. Think, Argyl. What do you remember last? Where were you, who were you with?¡±


    ¡°Nothing out of the ordinary. For fuck¡¯s sake, most of my time I am with you and Ceryna, trying to extinguish the firestorm that enveloped our homes! Other than that¡­ I¡¯m sleeping.¡±


    ¡°Alone?¡± Larais asked softly.


    ¡°Yes I sleep fucking alone! No whores, no brothels, nothing of sorts.¡±


    ¡°Alright, I believe you. It actually makes sense, you know. The poison did not kill you, which means that it had to be diluted heavily. The person that tried to kill you could not apply it directly¡­ They had to put it into your food or drink perhaps, but long before you ingested it.¡±


    Argyl lied down heavily, a desperate sigh coming out of his mouth. ¡°Why, Larais? Why does this shit show happen to me? the refugees, the monsters in the docks, the possibility of war and bloodshed, the plague, to poisoning¡­¡±


    She shrugged softly. ¡°Perhaps you were a bad person in your past life. Or perhaps all the people are bad, and at the moment, there are too many of us in this world. The evil concentrates, and you are the one to get hit by it all.¡±


    ***


    ¡°Excuse me?¡±


    Heers choked on the ale as a white-haired woman walked right to him and spoke.


    ¡°Is this seat taken?¡± She asked, and without waiting for an invitation, she sat down with a mug of her own in her hand.


    ¡°I am Auria. And you are?¡± She asked, her smile wide and bright, spreading from the beautiful half of her face right into the blackened horror of a sight.


    ¡°Hee¡­ Marias.¡± Heers muttered, almost getting his own name out.


    ¡°Hee Marias?¡± Auria asked. ¡°Now where do I know you from? Your face seems¡­ familiar.¡±


    ¡°Marias.¡± Heers repeated himself. ¡°Don¡¯t know, lady.¡±


    Auria stared into his eyes and she could swear that she sat that face somewhere¡­ or perhaps one similar to him. ¡°Do you have a daughter, Marias?¡±


    He stiffened, the facade of dumb helper of a morgue keeper gone in an instant.


    ¡°What do you want?¡± He asked Auria with a hint of a dagger in his words.


    ¡°What do I want? You¡¯ve been staring at me since I came into this¡­ hole.¡± She gestured around them with the mug. ¡°You¡¯re staring at me as if I was the death itself, yet you are the one reeking of corpses.¡±


    ¡°Who are you?¡± He asked her, ready to¡­


    Heers wasn¡¯t sure what he was readying himself to do. To run? To attack? Neither of those options seemed like a viable idea. Perhaps all that was left was to actually speak to the woman.


    ¡°I am Auria. I¡¯ve said that already. And you are¡­ not who you say you are. Your act needs to be worked on. Your clothes and odor scream beggar, yet your body, your face, and mainly your eyes scream of power. You are used to command, not to beg.¡±


    He was cornered, and he did not see much reason in playing an act anymore. Yet it did not mean that he had to tell her anything. ¡°Maybe.¡±


    ¡°Ha, I fucking knew it. Now, I know that I¡¯ve seen your face somewhere¡­ Or one very similar to yours. I¡¯ve asked whether you had a daughter, and your act has changed completely. That means that you do have a daughter.¡± She leant back against the backrest of the wooden bench she sat on. ¡°Perhaps I¡¯ve met her.¡±


    ¡°Perhaps. I¡­¡± He fell silent, emotions shifting his face from nervousness to anger, from fear to resolve. He stood up suddenly, his posture strong and stoic. ¡°I have to leave. Goodbye, miss Auria.¡±


    She watched him leave, her eyes narrowed, her forehead wrinkled with deep thoughts. Her eyes seeked out Harian that returned her sight with a slight nod as he stood up and followed  Marias out of the tavern. Auria sat down back with Naira and Suranihr, her mind almost blank with a single thought remaining inside her. Why was that man¡¯s face so familiar to her?


    ***


    Heers hurried through narrow alleyways, not taking care of where he stepped - a puddle of pisswater or stinking mud, it was of no concern to him. What concerned him was the feeling of imminent threat, the death¡¯s scythe pushed against his neck, the witches¡¯ fingernail pressed against his heart. Even now, he felt as if he was watched, but even after turning his head around frequently, he saw no one. Still, he could not hide the feeling of being watched.


    He took the long way back to his current, although temporary home, trying to confuse his potential stalker. After a good half an hour, he stood in front of his rented room, nearly at the same place that he left his half-drank mug at.


    As he entered the dim room and locked his doors behind him, he immediately pressed his face against the small sliver between the wooden door curved by age and the door frame. He looked out, watching through the thin gap, seeking¡­ something. someone. He expected to see the shrouded figure of white-haired woman walking towards his room, death following trailing footsteps. He expected an image of a killer hidden in shadows, or a slight glint of light reflected from a venom-coated dart heading for his eyes right through the small gap¡­


    What he did not expect was the familiar voice that came from behind him, right from his bed.


    ¡°Are you being watched?¡±


    He spun around quickly, his arms raised to counter the strike that never came, only to see an already naked figure of a woman lying seductively in his bed. He did not pay attention to her bare round breasts, to her hard nipples pointing right towards him, or to her richly colored mouth curved in a slightly depraved smile.


    ¡°You again?¡±


    ¡°Me. Is something wrong?¡± The woman asked, trying her best not to change anything in her posture. Only her voice changed from seductive to slightly alarmed.


    ¡°Maybe. I¡¯ve¡­ met someone. I don¡¯t know what to think. I think my cover is blown - she knew I was not who I¡¯m acting to be.¡±


    ¡°Interesting. Describe her to me.¡±


    Heers turned back towards the gap to look out. ¡°White hair, scarred face. She had companions, three of them. Two seasoned killers, one very cold woman.¡±


    The woman sighed with relief. ¡°That makes our job easier. It¡¯s actually what I came to tell you, to look out for these particular¡­ individuals. And finally, they are here.¡±


    Heers turned towards her. ¡°What are you¡­¡± He stopped talking as the woman stood up and walked towards him,seductively swinging her hips. As she pulled him by his clothes and pressed her naked body against him, she licked his earlobe and let out a soft sigh. ¡°Be silent now.¡± She whispered. ¡°If they are here, we are certainly being watched and listened upon.¡± She stuck her tongue deep into his mouth, pushing her warm hand down his pants, gripping his already hard cock in a hot embrace. Her soft words felt like sweet honey in his ears, her flowery fragrance filling his nostrils, sending shivers of desire down his body. ¡°If we are being observed, we need to give them something to watch. Let¡¯s make this as eventful for them as it will be for us. In the morning, they will be gone, and we will talk.¡±


    ***


    Harian watched the unfolding debauchery without a hint of arousal. Something was amiss. They were not an ordinary couple, that he was sure of. No ordinary couple would fuck as obscenely and loudly as they did - It felt more like theatrics than honest, emotion-filled sex, and he understood that it was just a show for him. They knew that he watched, yet he was sure that no one saw him¡­


    That meant only one thing - they knew. They knew that their peace envoy came to the golden city, and they were expected. The only problem was that Harian had no idea who they were.


    There were two possible courses of action he could take - to stay, watch, and trail the woman wherever she will go and find out who they were¡­ Or to return and warn Auria and company.


    He growled silently through clenched teeth as he realized he had nothing to choose from. He had to return to his current group, and they had to plan ahead. At the same time, he knew that the man inside was important in one way or another, and Harian knew that their paths would cross again very shortly.

 Chapter 32 - Ruins and hopes

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    A madman had to design the corridors Iarvahr walked through. Almost a sickening blend of metal and strange, almost mirror-polished rock surrounded him from all sights. As he pressed on deeper into the forgotten caverns, ruins of ancient technology were scattered all around him. Farther he went, the apparent decay of everything around him slowly subsided.  There were more and more lights above him, illuminating his steps through dead, silent corridors that spoke of nothing but an infinite silence. Perhaps they were blooming with life once, perhaps they were filled with crowds - now, the only company that he had were the words written in strange letters that attacked his subconsciousness. He somehow knew that with working projectors, he would be able to understand them intuitively but at the moment, the three tendrils scraped the floor, lifeless as the metal they were made of.


    Although he was alone, with each step he took he felt more and more watched, as if there was an unseen stalker somewhere around him, tracing his every step, observing every movement he made, watching and waiting. The feeling of imminent threat attacked his mind constantly. Worst of all, he hoped to be actually attacked. He hoped to face some corporeal adversary, be it a monster, a mutant, a human or an animal, but he knew that the thing that watched him had no body by itself. He knew that each step he took was observed by The Creator.


    His steps took him to a vast chamber - a crowd of hundreds of people would not be enough to fill it from wall to wall - that was illuminated by a large, shining globe hanging from the ceiling. The ceiling itself looked like the ribcage of an ancient behemoth of legends, with thick metal beams supporting the enormous weight of the world above him. He stopped for a while, awestruck by the enormousness of the chamber itself, reveling in the masterwork that had to be applied to build such a thing. The mastery put into every detail around him felt almost incomprehensible and Iarvahr felt infinitely small compared to the grandeur around him.


    His eyes fell to the grand obelisk in the center of the chamber, an oval beam of black obsidian with silver veins webbing its surface. The veins pulsed with light in a rhythmic pattern, giving him an illusion of something living. For a moment, he forgot where he was as he basked in the glory of long lost civilization and without thinking, his steps took him closer to the grand obelisk. He wondered about the legacy of this place, about its purpose, and as his eyes slowly took in the rest of the room, he realized where exactly he was.


    He was in the ruins of an ancient, underground city.


    Encircling the obelisk were the remnants of buildings, their walls a blend of artistry and technology. Once filled with life and joy, the artisan-made shops and homes now stood silent, breathing the cold air of death at Iarvahr. Some buildings had partially collapsed, their interiors exposed to him, luring him with a song of discovery and wonder.


    As he neared the obelisk, a building in near perfect condition came into his sight that was previously hidden behind the walls of slowly crumbling housings. As his eyes focused on the oil-gray walls of the building, he realized that it stood alone just as he was - out of place, out of time. The sense of being watched intensified as he neared the building and he felt waves of cold energy radiating from it like a heartbeat, growing stronger with each step he took, pushing at him, making every movement harder and harder¡­


    Yet he pressed on. The building was alive in a sense, the only thing - apart from the obelisk - that was not dead, silent and crumbling, and both intuition and curiosity pushed him on, and he battled with the invisible force¡­ Until he could go no further.


    He stood perhaps ten steps from the entryway, a large winged door made of artfully carved dark wood looking as inviting as the sign of a tavern. It was only now that he saw the light coming from inside through large windows, flickering slowly as if there was either a fireplace inside or plenty of lit candles.


    ¡°Hello?¡± he shouted, his voice echoing through the dead city around him. ¡°Anyone there? Hello!¡±


    He tried to push on again, only to slip and fall against the invisible barrier. As sudden as a summer rainstorm, hunger clenched his insides again with sharp claws and his heartbeat panicked at the sudden feeling.


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    If he had something to vomit, he would, but only convulsions and spasms shook his body as his body was too dehydrated to produce even saliva. In a moment, all the energy he had left was gone, and he knelt on the cobbled ground, helplessly staring at the warm light flickering behind closed windows¡­


    ¡°He¡­ Help¡­¡± He tried to whisper, yet only wheezing came out of his mouth as his vision started to fade away. He felt like dying and he knew that if his consciousness left him, his life would surely leave his mortal shell with it.


    With the last remnants of his strength, he tried to push himself away from the building, only to hit the ground head first. As his eyes started to close and his vision faded entirely, he saw the doorknob turn and a light appeared in the opening doorway.


    ***


    Naira was lying atop the roof of a large warehouse, her dark silhouette blending with the surroundings, making her as invisible as a shade at midnight. She watched the door that led to the strange man¡¯s home through a scope atop the Basilisk, her finger ready at the trigger, itching to release the lethal munition loaded in the chamber. Her breath was calm, her body as steady as a mountain. Unmoving, she waited.


    Below her, Harian walked to the observed door, stopping for but a few seconds before he knocked. Naira¡¯s mouth twitched as she saw him through the sights - for some reason, she knew that even if she took the shot at him, it was her that would end up dead and not Harian. What looked like an ordinary soldier - a veteran of a few battles at most - was proving to be much more. She was curious about him, yet his history was as mysterious to her as the workings of that fucking metallic arm in Auria¡¯s back. The soldier kept to himself, yet his acting, his wording and his experience spoke as loud as bells atop churches in the golden city.


    They split up and Suranihr and Auria went for the palace - or, more precisely, they went to find out how would they get to the palace, and what would be the best course of action to actually get an audience with someone competent enough to explain the actions of Glaeria against the Triarchy and the Citadel. Meanwhile, Naira and Harian stalked the man from the tavern for the last three days, and where Auria and Suranihr were out of any progress, Naira and Harian formed an actual plan that would yield results immediately.


    Harian would knock, and simply talk with the man. No weapons, no pressure against the man, no violence¡­ until necessary. For that reason, Naira and Basilisk covered him, ready to kill whomever if necessary.


    The door opened but instead of the man from the tavern, a beautiful woman stood there. She was adorned in a richly embroidered long dress, her mouth colored crimson, her eyelashes longer than eternity, her eyes as seductive as a lover''s kiss¡­


    Naira almost pulled the trigger immediately. This was wrong on too many levels. The woman did not fit the place, the district around them was too poor and too filthy for her to not stand out. As quickly as she appeared in the door, she took a few steps back, gesturing to Harian to come inside. After a few unheard words, he followed her and the door behind them closed.


    ¡°What the fuck.¡± Naira spoke - loudly, to her own surprise - and blinked unbelievingly. Without as much as a moment''s hesitation, she quickly climbed down from the warehouse and hurried towards the door where Hairan so willingly disappeared.


    She ran as fast as she could and in a few minutes, she stood in front of the door, panting heavily, unsure of what to do next. This reeked of something that went horribly wrong. Preparing for the worst, she disassembled Basilisk into a one handed revolving pistol with a series of well-trained movements and neared the door with the pistol raised before her. As she neared the door, it opened slowly and Harian¡¯s face appeared in front of her.


    ¡°Relax, Naira, and enter. Do not shoot anybody.¡±


    Without lowering her weapon, she entered the dimly lit room and aimed the gun at a woman that sat on the large bed opposite of the entry door. She quickly scanned the room and found the man from the tavern leaning against the wall to her left, his eyes focused on her with genuine interest. Harian closed the door behind her and put his hand at her shoulder. ¡°Lower the weapon, Naira. Please.¡±


    Slowly, she obeyed. ¡°Would you explain to me what the fuck is going on?¡± She asked him, the air around her almost freezing from the coldness in her voice.


    ¡°Naira, this is a servant of queen Anaid of Antigan, and the man leaning against the wall is High lord Heers of Malorea. Just like you, I am waiting for the explanation.¡±


    The woman bowed her head slightly towards them, and Heers coughed. ¡°Former High lord.¡± He said bitterly. ¡°And regarding the explanation, I think she is the one to speak. I myself am in dire need of information.¡±


    Six eyes pierced the woman as she stood up from the bed, smoothing out her clothes almost involuntarily. She smiled brightly, her face as natural as if she stood in front of life-long friends. Naira noticed a slight shiver in her eyelids as she spoke.


    As she stood in front of them, authority radiated from her like heat from the roaring fireplace. She eyed them one by one quickly and let out words that had shattered their hopes.