I’m anchored in indecision watching the blade move closer to its target. Everything ticks by in slow motion and my instincts rest, content to observe instead of act.
Having the general here is dangerous and leaving him back in Centrum is worse. He deserves to die for his crimes. Yet he has valuable intel too.
Cole turns at the commotion. He slides to his right to evade an attack, giving Hasta’s spear a clear path to his father. Although I can’t tell if it’s his warrior instinct or a calculated end to the general.
The crackle of Kane’s weapon blocking Hasta draws everyone’s attention. Hasta’s roar at being denied is a bitter cry of sorrow and rage.
“Oren, take him.” Kane pushes Hasta back toward me. “You’ll have your chance, warrior, but not yet.”
Hasta growls at Kane’s promise. I pull him back and lead him to my father’s office. His whole body vibrates, and each panted breath is a stifled groan. And soon gives easily to my leading. I pick up the pace to get him behind closed doors before he shatters.
He paces along the far wall of the small office as I close the door. The stone walls seal us in silence. I keep my back to him to give some semblance of privacy. I want to leave, but should he be alone? I’m not the person to help him. And I can’t be here. I don’t know how. His raw, exposed pain infects the air, choking my mind with things I can’t dwell on. Things I’ve never allowed to invade.
All my captive thoughts, despair, rage, everything I never process for fear of showing weakness and inflaming my powers assault my mind. His strangled breaths spin in harmony with my festered memories. I can’t be here. I reach for the doorknob. The shrill squeak of it turning in my hand sets off the loose hold on my powers.
The storm inside unleashes. My hands ignite and I release the knob before it melts. There’s too much energy surging through me and I can’t focus. I can’t pull back. My arms glow blue and my skin is too tight. I’m being stretched to my limit and I can’t contain it.
“Oren, look!”
I barely register Hasta’s call with my pulse hammering in my ears. I turn to find him on his knees before a glowing book tucked into a shelf. There’s a familiar pull at my chest and in an instant I’m kneeling next to him.
My powers die down as if in reverence to the book. I rub away the sharp sting from my center and reach for it. Wiry threads of blue energy shoot from my fingertips into the book. The heavy cover slaps open on its own, making us jump.
Blue lightning dances over it. The thick, yellowed pages flutter and crinkle as electric energy leafs through the book, stopping in the center. My chest pangs empty, my power is absent as if I wasn’t just about to explode. I grip the shelf for support from the sudden loss and the book hums in a low resonance that draws me in.
The moment my fingers meet the smooth leather binding, it’s in my grip, and I’m on my feet. It’s mine. There’s an unconscious knowing, an almost rabid sense of ownership. If my father experienced even a fraction of what I’m feeling, how could he have sent it away to Hasta? I turn from the shelf and lie it on the conference table in the middle of the room.
“This is where Rosa placed it before…I’m sorry.” I hate I said her name so carelessly.
“No. I want to hear about her. I need to.” Hasta draws up beside me.
“She told me after you received this book, everything changed. It’s the reason they took you, isn’t it?”
“Yes. I learned the truth from your father’s letter. But once I held the book, it was like a veil lifted. I remembered everything I already knew to be true. Your family was innocent and more than that, I understood why your father hid so many things.”
“Because of me. Because of what’s inside me.”
“Yes.” Hasta places a hand on my shoulder.
I meet his blood-red eyes, but drop my attention back to the book. I’m too afraid for the next moment. I can close it, put it back on the shelf to gather dust, and disappear like I always planned. For so long, I wanted to know where my abilities came from. But the hesitation in his stare tells me I’m better off not knowing.
I’m already a fugitive from Centrum. It’s too late for my family’s redemption. Too late for a quiet, unnoticed life. What good is knowing about my powers now? Burying my fears of what’s inside me is better than dragging them into the sun.
I slam the book closed and step back. White light seeps from the binding and the cover flings open to an illustration on the same page as before. The energy in my center propels me forward and locks me in place. I force my effort into resisting, but I’m a prisoner in my own body. My palms stay flat against the table and my boots cement to the floor.
I can’t stir a twitch or tremor. Hot, thick blood runs from my nose with the strain, painting the intricate gold foil illustration. I watch my blood splatter the ancient drawing. It’s a geometric emblem that’s unlike anything I’ve seen. A circular pattern with interwoven shapes and hard lines.
Hasta gasps and I release the fight when my blood beads and draws together on the page. The droplets merge into a thick stream flowing into the outer edge of the emblem. White energy ignites the symbol like our weapons coming from the ether. My blood disappears into the book without a single trace. The symbol swirls and spins counter clockwise until an inky pool opens in the center.
It’s like liquid metal settling into an obsidian mirror. No, not a mirror, a window. Trees and boulders take shape in this window. And legions of demons stretch across the expanse. I shiver against the frigid howling wind, yet not a hair on my head is disturbed. I scan the office and find Hasta rigid, entranced by the unfolding scene.
The pallid gray of the Mist mutes my vision and the burn of sulfur pricks my throat. Yet we remain in the air condition of my father’s office deep underground. Hasta coughs and rubs at his mouth and I know he’s experiencing it with me.
The sloppy grunts and shrieking clack of demons draws us back into the book. It’s as if they’re in the room with us.
“I’ll stay. Seal the gate!”
We both lean over the book at those words. The barrier wall comes into view at the bottom edge of the window. A man dressed in rags holds a crude iron sword. He rests against a sky scraping tower of light.
“Get behind the wall.” Another man inside the gate calls out to my ancestor, Sirus.
“We’ll give you time,” Sirus says.
A deafening bellow explodes from the advancing horde, a demonic charge. Sirus’ sword clatters to the rocks below as he covers his ears and I do the same. The towering light moves from Sirus’ side.
Legs as tall as the highest tree reveal a giant. It’s the guardian of our legends. He’s warrior built with gold armor, a blazing sword, and folded metallic wings. It’s too bright to make out any details and my eyes water the longer I try.
With one swing of his sword, he pitches legions of demons across the forest and scatters them to the winds. But there’s too many of them. They swarm and crawl up, engulfing his mighty light with their darkness.
“It’s sealed.” Sirus shouts for the guardian to come back.
But it’s too late. The giant’s knees give and the ground splits when he falls. Sirus takes up his sword and fights his way through. The soothing timber of a voice that isn’t audible through my ears gives one last command.
“Come, receive your strength. I pour myself out. Retake your might. You will need it to survive here, brother. For the others to survive.”
With a soul shaking blare of a battle horn’s roar, the guardian explodes in light, decimating the surrounding demons. Sirus runs to the charred earth and the fallen savior.
“Outstretch your hand.” The guardian’s brilliance flickers. “What I give, you cannot carry alone in that mortal body. It must flow through you and your line to remain.”
The guardian reopens a thick raised scar across Sirus’ palm. Hasta and I hiss a breath, feeling the sting along with him. Electric blue light rushes from the guardian’s matching wound, and he presses their palms together. White hot fire blinds me.
I blink to clear my eyes, but a vision unfolds in my mind. It shows the guardian’s energy flood into Sirus. He diminishes to the size of a regular man. He utters his last words as Sirus weeps over the loss. His dark hair now turned white.
I see the protective energy in the wall fade faster with each decade. I see two women and a man waiting for Sirus at the gate. He presses his bloody hand to theirs. They fall to the ground bathed in white light, backs arched and eyes blown wide. Their skin sizzles as the first warrior marks engrave into their flesh.
Then those first warriors press their bloody palms into others. The guardian’s power is a white string of light flowing freely into some and lying dormant in others. Until time slows to show the warrior strength passing from generation to generation instead of palm to palm.
I see Sirus struggle with his power for five long years alone. I recognize the tightness around his eyes and the panic attacks from the pressure. He suffers as the only Oren keeping his distance from others. Until his son is born and the burden becomes his strength again.
I see Oren’s run faster, jump higher, and glow with the blue essence of the guardian generation after generation. Always sharing the burden among two or three. Always different from the other warrior born.
“What I give, you cannot carry alone.” It’s the guardian’s imparted warning echoing around the stone walls of the office.
My sight clears and then it’s me in the book’s window. Blue flames engulf my body in a barren land. I rise off the ground, a ball of flame ascending into the air. My limbs spark uncontrollably. Beams shoot from my eyes and hands, setting fire to the earth until I end in a seismic boom. Only a hovering ball of fading blue energy remains.
The window zooms out, displaying every region. And all at once, the white string of energy that lives in every warrior born is drawn out. Their strength seeps out of their marks, leaving clear, smooth skin behind.
It zips through the air from every corner of the nation to die in the barren land with the guardian’s fading gift. Marking the end of all the warrior-born.
