Mhaieiyu

Arc 1, Chapter 13
Angels Dress as Devils

Stirring from his uneasy slumber for the sixteenth time that day, the middle-aged veteran found his awakening coupled with a familiar feeling of weakness. The whole of his being demanded pause, but he knew he couldn't afford to waste time. War was on the horizon, and he was needed. His struggling vision was assaulted by the brightness of the sun's light which slipped through the solitary window to his cell. Glancing around, he saw that nothing changed in the dull, wood room. Better this than constant darkness.

That said, the brightness caused him to wince. Maybe if he didn't drink so often he wouldn't have to feel the aching in his brain.

Dragging his tired head across the floor he was plastered to, he found his restraints—four cuffs chained into a large steel ring embedded into the mountain's edge the cabin clung to—still gripping tightly to his wrists and ankles. While the Dwellers did shun most of life's more trivial luxuries and technologies, they did make exceptions for specific cases.

The Dwellers hosted no prisoners of their own in their land — if you could say they owned it. No, they instead exiled their less-faithful lot and killed them if they proved to be a hazard to their colonies. If any prisoners were ever kept, they did not originate from their own kin. Such was part of their culture, preventing the captivity of their siblinghood. If only the whole world was so caring for their own.

Under normal circumstances, the trussed Brigadier would've been able to break through his bonds. There were no magic-inhibiting properties in the metals, even if he knew they did possess such tools. Of course, they wouldn't need any. Not with him. His greatest power could be his worst downfall, and this was such a time where that couldn't be truer.

He felt as though his entire body was trying to cease functioning if for just a few more moments of rest. Such bliss would be a waste of time. The reason why had just entered his cell. It was one of the many proletarians within the Dwellers' micro-society. Thankfully, it wasn't anybody that held any particular grudges. Emris couldn’t well hide his discomfort and pain; kicking his fallen pride down further. Agony met any whose mind wasn't entirely bent. That fact bore no exceptions. Not even for the blessed few.

"Good morning," the worker, presumably a carpenter, solemnly greeted. Why they were so casual with their victims, he had no idea. Perhaps this was one of the less successful lackeys, whose life had been destined to do chores and distribute goods within the Kingdom's centre.

With a shrivelled smirk, Emris stood to his knees. He was too tired to keep his head high, but damn it all if he wasn't going to show some kind of defiance.

"Mornin', dog," the veteran said with a wheeze.

As if anticipating his spite, the carpenter sighed. He held something in his hands, but Emris was too tired to focus his eyes on it. "Alright, be quiet. I want this to be over just as much as you do, so make this quick for both of our sakes."

"A weaklin', eh?" Emris cackled awkwardly, his mockery split with dehydration and tiredness. "Sendin' squeamish folk my way... bloody brill."

With a low sigh, the resident no longer responded, approaching Emris with a bizarrely shaped hammer in hand before thwacking the brig's jaw with zero hesitation. While he may be inexperienced in combat, his years as a hut constructor gave him a knack for striking nails into place.

Spitting blood in the opposite direction as bones cracked within his mouth, Emris coughed out a few of his teeth. Before the Syndie could offer any kind of verbal assault to his torturer, a second hit took place right over his knee, forcing his words to bend into a pained groan. Victus, it always hurt there.

Much to his words, the commoner, whose labour had been temporarily replaced with such barbarities, quickly moved on to finish the act. It was visible from the frown on his face. He wanted nothing more than to return to his daily life, but everyone had to contribute; such were the rules. Snap after smash, Emris’ head and body turned and twisted in response, bones shattering and blood pouring as he took the blows unguardedly. It hurt like hell, and he did yell once or twice, but he knew resistance was futile at this point. His only hope was to suck up the damage, try to ignore his fatigue and break out of here, but he knew it would never be that easy. However long he needed to escape was time he couldn’t afford.

While his body ached and burned, his arms hanging behind his back from the suspended chains, he felt no resentment towards this torturer. He made sure to believe that. Emris understood this simple worker had nothing to do with this, and while it hurt not to get a break, it was best to get this over with sooner. Quicker strikes meant his body had to waste less in pointlessly healing wounds that would reform either way.

After a good fifteen minutes, his battered body was left alone in the room once more, his thoughts fogging yet again. His sore flesh and soul insisted he sleep, but his mind knew better. He couldn't stay here much longer. He had to get out somehow.

Dragging his head forward to at least try to see the room through the dry blood that had encrusted around his eyes, Emris realised for the seventeenth time that the place simply would not change. No signs of weakness magically formed. For some reason, he was disappointed, as if he expected more. He pulled once on the chains, with a force equal to a mouse pulling on a string, and found no progress in damaging his binds. Perhaps if he broke his hands and feet, he could slip through the cuffs. But such an idea far exceeded his body's capacities right now.

As he mulled over impossible escape plans dozens of times through his mind-bent brain, he failed to notice a second figure enter the room half an hour later, garnering his slow attention only as she shut the door behind her.

The air on this woman was sincerely disturbing to him. His pinprick eyes peered over her figure, anticipating a devil dressed as a maiden, but he was met instead with the not-so-smug complexion belonging to the foxy brat herself. The mystery that had effortlessly condemned him to such an experience: Eclipse.

“The nerves on this one…” he thought.

Sitting down on the wall opposite him, the woman removed her hoodie so as to unveil herself, letting her arms rest on her knee.

"You're not looking too bright," she teased, albeit with a drowned out playfulness. Even if he was her worst enemy, she wouldn't wish this kind of punishment on him.

Emris gave no response, dragging his face into a more comfortable position. The stone floor was caked in dust, and his nostrils burnt as he inhaled.

"You know, when I heard of the mighty Guardian, I really didn't think he'd be this easy to break. I suppose this humanises you more... go figure," she tried to jest, her tone not matching her intentions enough for her attempts to be believable.

Sighing, the lass cut to the chase. There was no point anticipating any kind of peace from the man, especially after what she gathered from the few conversations they shared.

“Just so you know, I don't take pleasure in this. I hold no contempt for you; not yet. My life has taken some harsh turns and I can't afford to remain an idle hunter anymore. It's not realistic — my hips are getting old." Eclipse sniggered, more honestly this time.

Emris was still face-planting the floor, even as she spoke to him. She showed no hostility or malice. If anything, she felt remorse for tarnishing the veteran, not knowing yet if he deserved any of this inhumane treatment. In hindsight, she knew that anything less than her own eyes and ears wouldn't suffice. The observant woman had a philosophy, choosing only to hate if she'd seen the influence of it herself. And yet, even as she offered him this merciful thought process, he seemed to give nothing in return. Perhaps he was already sleeping? It was hard to tell. His wheezing made discerning his consciousness challenging.

Still, seeing that her words met deaf ears, she heavy-heartedly decided she had said her piece. No amount of begging could undo her wrongs at this point, and she wasn't the type to plead either. Eclipse may be seen as a devil in the man's eyes, and she would respect him for doing so if it came to such. Standing up, she made her way towards the door, the hand reaching for its wooden surface freezing as a pained huff left the veteran.

He had turned to his side slightly, showing his battered, recuperating face. Disfigured as it was, Eclipse winced as she looked back at him. He looked as if he wanted to say something, stumbling silently on what words to use. His bruised, bleeding lips parted a few times, but nothing came of it. After a few seconds, he dropped his head again, finally speaking.

"Back when... ye said my pride wasn't takin' me anywhere." His voice was so hoarse and distorted it made her cringe again. Just how much had they done in a day?

With a nod, she let her outstretched hand drop to her waist. "Yes, I remember that."

"Ye were right, ye know," Emris mumbled, gritting his teeth in frustration. Whether it was towards himself, or someone else, she didn't know. "I uh... let my pride do some dumb shite lately. I might've gotten a whole bunch of..."

He paused. He had to change his words.

"I might've gotten a kid in trouble, and one of my comrades ain't too happy about it. I’m not pleased with myself," Emris said, craning his neck to try to lift his heavy skull. No success. "He uh... He threw me out the fuckin' window."

With a raised brow and an amused, sheepish grin, Eclipse shook her head in response. "Well well... Looks like this pup is a bit more hopeless than I thought," she toyed, managing to scrounge up her voice again. Eclipse felt pity for the man, but perhaps this was her chance to see something bad enough in him to feel lighter for his suffering. She could reprimand such greed later on.

Dragging his head across the floor from left to right, the Brig suppressed the feelings of pain surging within his mind, ridding himself of the guilt as best he could. "All 'cause I... had a few drinks."

"Hm? Well, isn't that something I warned you of?"

"Yeah. That's the thing... ye surprised me. Probably why I hesitated to... pull the trigger," Emris chuckled, wheezing through his breath. At least his reforming face spoke normally again, as tired as he was. "This happened a week back, mind."

Waving her wrist around, Eclipse sneered. "And you don't regret not gunning me down? Perhaps if you shot me, you would've noticed their advances."

"I was screwed either way, at that point. And while I'd punch yer stomach out for this, I don't think I'd be too happy about it after," Emris admitted, his face twisting as he stared at the stone beneath him, as if it made some hidden reflection of himself. "How'd ye... end up with this lot?" He shook his head again. He had to stay awake.

"I never joined, pup. I was born here," Eclipse said, approaching the wounded, worn-out body of the man. They had stripped his torso bare, exposing the many scars that littered his battle-worn skin. With a palm falling on his back, she sat down next to him. She wasn't wearing those chunky gauntlets and so her cold fingertips could connect with and tingle the veteran's leathery husk.

"Do ye... like this lot?" Emris asked, his voice dry and his neck loosening.

"That's a hard question. Do you like every single one of your comrades?"

"Nay. Most of 'em are total pussies... or complete assholes," the Brig coughed a laugh to himself, his shoulders relaxing.

The controversial Dweller giggled. "Then that's how I feel, too. Some are heartless folk who see too far ahead for their own good, while others are cowardly, spineless fools who are willing to throw anyone away if only to run from what's in front of them."

"Givin' yer pride away, just to bolt... Oy, the shame in some men..." He dragged his head from side to side again. Stay awake, ye old dog.

"Mm... I don't blame them, but their choices don't suit me. Wouldn't you say the same?" Eclipse said.

Scoffing through his dry breaths, Emris parted his lips, his answer evident. And yet, he stopped himself. Could he really say, that even whilst spitting on such behaviour, he hadn't acted in the same way? Was arrogance so different? If he had doomed an entire country in his antics, and then done nothing to rectify the situation he caused — more so crushing the fact out of his mind by any means necessary, was he a coward too? Or simply unforgivably reckless?

Noting his silence, Eclipse raised a brow, uprearing herself in astonishment. "Well?"

"I'm... figurin' that one out," Emris said. Part of him delayed his speech through his weariness, but he genuinely didn't know how to answer. Looking back, he really had degraded in these last few years.

Her query unanswered, the woman pouted playfully, tracing her nails over his vertebrae. There it was. What she needed from this interaction. A reason to see him as despicable; surely it would suffice? She could leave now. There was nothing to look back on. While it took a few traces of her fingertips to realise, she noticed the few imperfections in his bones. Nothing severe enough to cripple him, but noticeable nonetheless.

Understanding the reason behind this brought forth a new intrigue from her, and so, she kept her eyes off the door. "After living a life with your blessing, I'm sure you've been hurt many times. Do you still feel pain?"

Dragging his head up so that his eyes could meet the cold colours the wooden walls provided, the brig sighed raggedly to himself, his breaths irregular. "If ye’re askin' if I still feel things, then aye, 'course I do. Hurts every damn time. Ye just learn to ignore the irrelevant if it's for the sake of others," Emris said, his voice trailing off as he wondered why he was speaking so openly about something so personal to him. It's as though he were anticipating something while also choosing not to see ahead of himself. Trapped in limbo between life and death, on the verge of disconnecting from his own self.

"Wouldn't it be nice if you could cure pain?" Eclipse asked in a low, relaxing voice, her fingertips skimming through his long tufts of unkempt hair and massaging his scalp.

"I've dwelled on it, aye... Guess I don't want it to go, either. It stings, Eclipse. It burns. Stabs right into ye, but it keeps you goin'. If ye felt nothin', yer nerve’d go numb. Ye’d give long before the fight's over. Self uh... self-preservation, like." Emris stumbled his words, shaking his head again. His tone was dulling. His voice was slowing down.

Stay awake, damn it. For them, stay awake.

The beaten man beneath her laughed a fake laugh. He was in so much pain right now. "Heh... you'll never know how bad gettin' impaled's like. By the time ye do, you'll be halfway asleep already..."

His head was dropping.

This won't do. This won't do, damn it! Get up!

This sight she had been exposed to caught the Dweller off her guard. Seeing the desperate and silent calls of a man unhinged is such a particular experience. There’s no feigning it; no explaining it. It was just there. That cry for help from someone who would seemingly never beg. Not if their Pride forbade it. Watching him there, his eyelids growing heavier yet with a glare still shining with a burning fire that his damaged, unlit body seemed to lack entirely, Eclipse's mouth hung. It's as if, while her ears were being pandered to, her eyes were having an entirely more significant conversation with his.

"Why are you..." Eclipse said in a mutter.

His consciousness was hanging on a thread, that much was evident. And yet, observing his subtle movements, it looked like more of a life-or-death matter. Sweat beaded on his forehead as that light in his eyes tried to force some kind of impossible strength to surge from within his being. In this all, Eclipse saw a painstakingly familiar little girl—a creature—within that hopeless struggle of his. She found herself unable to suppress the burning question that scolded her thoughts.

"These injuries aren't what hurt right now, are they?" Eclipse asked. With this question she retracted her fingers, waiting in silence for an answer.

Her words made his exhausted body jolt. The forgiven exile was right even if the Syndie veteran hadn't realised it until then. Her fingers, which should've scalded his bruises, gashes and worn bones did not elicit any kind of pain. He didn't groan, nor did he stifle any kind of discomfort past sentimental nerves being prodded. The touch she provided was entirely beneficial and he had therefore said nothing to protest. While the pain of being struck repeatedly wore at his body, tiring him and his soul that nursed away at his damage, it did next to nothing to wilt his mind.

In his time of isolation, he was tortured not by his captors, but by his own mind. With nothing to keep his thoughts from wandering, he was forced to trek through the guilts that shouted and cried in a voice only he could hear; leaving him alone in the trenches of his own wretchedness. In a play of irony, the occasional pains of his tormentors were a distraction from such Hell, rather than a punishment.

His breathing was wretched and irregular. His lungs and throat had not yet fully recuperated and his rapid takes of air were corroding and scalding him inside. The brig soon began hyperventilating; his cheek on the hard floor whilst his mind raced. His pupils danced around the room for the eighteenth time that day.

Eclipse felt herself sink. The man was falling apart in front of her, and she knew she was steadily considering something irrational. And yet, even as she denied such immature thoughts, she couldn't help but look at the veteran lying beside her — his wrists covered in dry blood from his few attempts to break through. With his normal strength, he could've. But as he lay now, exhausted and withered, his exertion did nought but shave away at his skin.

“You fuckin' monster,” Emris thought to himself, feeling his eyes sparkle with built-up tears as he breathed and huffed. “If ye can't even stay awake now, then who the fuck're ye to say anythin'? Get up off the floor, ye brat. C'mon!”

The veteran’s mind raced, his eyelids crushing his sight. His brain ground itself to find hope until he heard the distinct sound of chains rattling behind him. With that, his left arm came to the floor with a metallic thud. He didn't possess the strength to turn back to see what had happened but regardless he felt it again. His aching arms finally came to rest at his sides, and soon, the chains on his ankles felt less stiff.

"You know, as frustrating as it is to me, I think it's good I didn't get to rule a nation in the end," Eclipse sniggered, wrapping her arms around his chest before hoisting him up. His entire body gave way, limp like a corpse. "Hah, this is so childish of me, honestly... It seems my humbler years aren't as far gone as I thought, hm?" Eclipse laughed, tapping the dangling head of the man.

He didn't respond. The moment he felt the incomparable feeling of freedom, by the hands of unsurpassable delicacy, he finally gave his body the rest it so desperately sought. To sleep once more, knowing it wouldn't be the last time. What a blithe and infantile feeling that was.

The newly traitorous Dweller worked the captive onto her back, draping his arms and legs over her shoulders to keep him steady. Even with her strength, his weight would surely become a nuisance along the way.

The thought alone gave her another moment to think. Was this really worth the effort? Was she being realistic? Where would she live, if not here? Eclipse knew well that she couldn't sneak out of the Kingdom with Emris in tow without being spotted. She would be ostracised again and likely for the last time. Zylith had bluffed in the past but, somehow, Eclipse knew that this time wouldn't be the same. She was sure of it. She counted on it, so as to keep her away from her childhood nest. To finally fly free.

This would be the last time she kicked down their door, and if she were to go through with this, she couldn't do so without leaving a message behind. Like a sadist, the smirk that lined her expression confirmed her motivations; be it for the sake of mischief or becoming the heroine of her life story. What's more awe-inspiring than the tale of rescuing the enemy from your own people? Perhaps she could write about it sometime in the future.

If she made it by tomorrow.

"Hope you don't mind if I stop by your place after this, because I'm going to need it," Eclipse said with frolicsome malice as she tapped the hollow skull of the evacuee.

The door opened with a creak. She was greeted by a torrent of powerful, howling wind as she stepped forward, her eyes falling upon the sleeping kingdom beneath her. The prisoner's hut was located at an elevated cliff-side that protruded near the midsection of a grey mountain that overshadowed the robust, primitive society beneath it. There were no ladders or stairs; those that rose up to these levels were experienced wall-climbers — a trait considered unique and generally exclusive to their kin. Such a design was chosen on purpose, for if ever a prisoner were to break loose, they would have yet to face the obstacles of nature and physics themselves. The slope was almost entirely vertical, and the patterns of the crumbling walls were shaped in such a way that descent would guarantee landing deep into Dweller territory to await recapture.

Taking in a deep breath so as to soothe her mind and ease her senses, the woman reached behind her, producing a pair of heavy gauntlets from her rear waistline. With a quick drop of her arms, four tremendously sharp and acute metal rods the width of a ballpoint pen slid out of their sheaths, coupling each of her knuckles. Eclipse cast a glance down below once more, observant of the embers that sparingly lit the village's inner circle. In those orangey flames she saw a nostalgic sight that cut deep into the recesses of her fondest memories. The stars covering the clear sky above her were like a painting, and so she frowned when she looked on ahead to the iron megapolis several miles away. Its skies were dark as if a storm perpetually loomed over it on the verge of unleashing.

Leaving the feelings invading her mind, she soon caught sight of her targets patrolling effortlessly through the tree-tops — their bodies visible only through the small blotches of luminescence their dark, thin skin glowed green with occasionally. The eyes and ears of the Dwellers: the Chameleons. And, as of right now, her greatest obstacle to scurry out of her recovered home.

The thought of escape filled her blood with adrenaline as a fond memory of leaving her old hut years ago gave her yet another reason to smile. How much time had passed since then? How much had she changed? She wasn't exactly comfortable here, yet this was where she belonged. Among her peers. And here she was, willing to throw it all away if only to see beyond the forests. Eclipse had always been the type to explore and act rashly. She became more wary with time, of course, but curiosity never left her. What was there, beyond the tree-line? Beyond the bastard city that thoughtlessly grew, threatening their few territories with industrial expansion? Beyond even the seas that unfairly divided the land, prohibiting her from finding more?

For this reason, she thought, she could justify her actions.

Turning her head to the right and taking in the sitting figure of the man who guarded this cell so feverishly, she found her wistful smile dissipating as she saw his scowling, profoundly disappointed expression. The clouds above collected and greyed.

With a deep, compassionate voice, Eclipse spoke first. "I'm surprised you didn't try to strike me when I walked out, Ezequiel."

Taking a deep breath, the Keeper of the Dwellers' abode stood up, a streak of hair running down by his left eye. Even if it hurt her, she must brave his hateful glare and bask in his saddening anger. Ezequiel was one of the few she most felt she could understand in such a place. And yet...

"You've changed so much, Young Qui. It's disheartening seeing how sourly you've grown under her reign," Eclipse said with a hint of resentment, but not a spec of insult or exaggeration. He knew this.

"She's been a better mother to me than anyone else, so I can't say I like your comments, Madele." Ezequiel shook his head, his eyes unable to look at the woman any further. "Even if you cease now, you'll never be forgiven. You may as well take your leave while you can."

A small grin formed on Eclipse's face even if the scene wounded her heart. The boy-turned-man meant so much to her, yet she knew time had long distorted the passionate child she once knew. His joyous soul had been tarnished. Such were the side-effects of life.

"I always saw you as my youngest sibling, Qui. Please, take care in this dark world. It seems the storms are closing in. You must be wary," Eclipse advised, her grin broadening into a smile. Alas, Ezequiel shared not in her sentiments. With a shake of his head and a sharp stare, he pressed on.

"Why leave, now that you've been graced with a chance? Why discard us so?"

Her smile vanishing, Eclipse adamantly denied. "Don't say such things. I would never discard any of you. My life has always been a strange stream, wouldn't you say? I must see newer things; such is life to me."

Narrowing his eyes, Ezequiel took a step forward. The ledge was short, and space to back away was scarce. She wouldn't budge, however.

"This man. What does he mean to you?" the Keeper said.

"Nothing, really. If I want to survive, I'll have to make proper connections."

"To a Syndie? Is that what you want? To become one with the New World?"

"I couldn't say, my dear boy." Eclipse hid no truths. She couldn't grasp what exactly she schemed, as was often the case with her. She was devilishly smart and cunning, but while she could see ahead with striking accuracy, the one she could least predict was herself.

"You can't leave with him," Ezequiel stated, emotional frustration in his voice. He knew better than to hold onto his valuables so childishly, but he couldn't bypass his deeper nature. Emris was an asset for an impossible war. They needed him as a voucher to survive. But more than anything, this was a matter of pride. Rain quietly started to fall, first in small, occasional droplets, and soon enough into a tirade of heavenly anger.

"...Young Qui, you know well that if I set my mind on something..." Eclipse tried to intervene, asserting herself to the man. Her voice trailed off. She knew what was coming. She watched him become a man, after all.

"And, likewise, you should know the same for me, Harna," the Keeper shot back, hiding his welled up eyes in the falling cascade of water.

Eclipse’s shoulders dropped in that instant, losing her asserted stature. Closing her eyes, she placed Emris' sleeping body onto the stone edge, looking back at the male she felt such sisterly love for as he withdrew his rapier. He wasn’t so shameless as to not let her see it coming.

With a fake chuckle and a croaking voice, she looked back at him, unyielding. "Ah, you could not be more cruel, Lelte Hurno."

"Let this be our last, Eclipse." Ezequiel hacked at the air as he assumed his combat posture.

"No, Ezequiel." Assimilating a practised battle stance, claws in full view, the exile faced the Keeper of the Dwellers, smirking as he scowled. Like sister, like shielder. Like brother, like survivor. "Let this be one of many, from opposing sides for the very first time."