[Fanfiction] The Lost Children

[FiveHours]

It's been a while since I've pressed a button saying "New Topic". It's a nice sensation, I must say.

In any case, this will be my second story on the Warframe Forums, I hope that anyone who reads this will enjoy it. IT offers answers to the very hazy origin of the Tenno, and how things were before the "Big Sleep". I want to make the Tenno seem like people under their suits, and especially before they were frozen. The Stalker's lore is the only thing that elaborates on the great betrayal the Orokin faced, so I want to shed some light on that too.

If you want to see more, please stay tuned, I aim to update regularly, and, if you haven't, please read my other fanfiction, now completed, called The Lone Sword: https://forums.warframe.com/index.php?/topic/216477-fanfiction-the-lone-sword-completed/

Alright, enough from me. I present to you The Lost Children. As always, constructive and helpful criticism is appreciated.

Prologue - A Flower Blooms

He never trusts his gut feeling. But now, of all times, he does.

The vessel he walks through hums quietly along with him as he approaches the upper quarters. The walls softly pulsate with the heartbeat of the ship, and the vents breathe warm air around him, rustling his neatly tied-back onyx hair, yet he can’t help but feel slightly cold. The floor he walks on turns from metal grating to white velvet carpet as he hastily climbs the stairs.

There is a definite sense of antiquity here; the oaken smell that comes from the decorative wooden pillars is almost tangible on his tongue. The door is a few paces from him, paired with marble pillars and two equally immovable guards. They stand proud, clad in shining white and shimmering gold, with appropriately-colored assault rifles in their huge hands.

Teshin looks down on such weapons; they were often unreliable, brutish and inefficient. In his eyes, anything a rifle could do, a blade would do better. He reassures himself, placing a gloved hand on the dormant Nikani on his hip. This thought brings a smirk, but then he comes to the realization of his arrogance. This was why they are losing the war, and why he is here; they need a weapon. One to be the blade that could conquer the Sentients, not whatever these brutes hold in their hands. But still, he finds that they have their way of being threatening, especially when they are being pointed at his face.

“State your business.” One of them growls from the right.

“Matters too important for your ears, Guardian. I demand you let me in.” He spares no sympathy. What he said evidently struck a nerve in the Guardian, as he turns his head to look down at Teshin, who looks back with equal steel.

“State your business.” It repeats, but the voice is not as kind.

“It seems you are not the only one who has to repeat himself, grunt.”

The Guardian makes a grab for Teshin’s collar. His feet fall lightly as he steps back, instantly drawing his sword. Its lean edge flashes across him, coming up to his head in a reverse grip so that any attack would be swiftly cut down within a moment. A speck of blood wells from the Guardian’s pearly glove like a mistaken blot of paint on a canvas.

“I would advise you against that, Guardian. The cut will be deeper next time, if you are not careful.” Teshin scolds the Guardian like a child. He sheaths the sword and speaks again when he hears the satisfying click. “You should know that when a Lieutenant is in your presence, his business should not be questioned.”

He draws back the white cloth on his arm, exposing three circles with dots in the middle of each one. The Guardian
looks down at his hand, at the diamond-edged blade, then at Teshin’s indifferent eyes. After staring into the white void that swirls inside them, he steps back to his post and gulps.

“Apologies, sir. You may proceed.”

“Indeed. And get the blood cleaned as soon as possible, it doesn’t look good on parade.” Teshin orders as he steps into the doorway, leaving the two Guardians to mumble insults through their helmets.

Teshin cannot help but be surprised at the humble nature of the room. A few desks, here and there. Two lamps to illuminate the room. A grand leather armchair seems to be the most valuable piece in the room, at which sits… well, he doesn’t know what to call her.

The woman, who now notices him approach, looks up from her monitor and tucks a falling drape of midnight hair over her pale ear. Her eyes are a mesmerizing shade of purple, but they are not welcoming. Her hands retreat to her lap as she sits up and stares at the approaching Teshin. Formal, yet modest. He moves his swords behind his back, perhaps to appease her anxiousness. She ignores the gesture and looks back to her monitor, exposing the white badge on her left shoulder. To him, it looks like a flower. He finds it fitting.

He begins. “Ma’am, did I disturb you?”

She says nothing. Instead she holds his gaze for a short moment, then stands and walks to an opulently designed cupboard, where she takes out a peculiar looking box. Only then does she open her mouth and speak with a voice of velvet softness.

“No, you are right on time.” She looks back at him as she makes her way back to the way to the desk. She traces her
supple fingers round the box’s edges and delicately sets it on the table before working some sort of coding into it on the monitor.

An awkward silence stands between them. He tries to break it with a simple-sounding question.

“Pardon me, but I still don’t know your name, or even why I am supposed to be here.”

“You are a soldier, Teshin. You receive orders, you carry them out.” She doesn’t look up at him as she continues with her mysterious work. She merely offers him a glance. “Is this not why you came here? Or is there some curiosity behind it?”

Teshin is taken slightly aback by the seemingly straightforward question, but he doesn’t show it.

“What shall I call you, then, if I am to take orders from you? One must at least have a name to go by.”

“I don’t have a name, Teshin. Not one in particular, anyway.” Only then does she look up, and only into his eyes.

“What would you prefer?”

He thinks on it for a moment, then looks back to the badge on her arm. In his eyes, it resembles a flower. One in particular, very beautiful…

“Lotus.”

“Excuse me?” She seems just as surprised as he is.

“A name that fits, for such a pretty flower.”

She looks down at her badge, then back at him. Her face reads mild distaste.

“Your shallow complements will not get you anywhere, Lieutenant.”

But then her expression then lightens, and a small smile appears on her face.

“But I appreciate the gesture. The Lotus it is.”

She then takes the box, which looks huge in her hands, and walks with careful steps as she comes to face him. She is nearly as tall as him, a rare thing to see in the Orokin military.

“I need your help, Teshin.” She says as she opens up the box.

“With what…?“ The word trails off.

In that box he sees a stone, opaque and white as snow, but his eyes seem to defy him, for he can see into it, and what he then sees he cannot possibly comprehend. An infinite kaleidoscope of the cosmos, shining into infinity with the power of a trillion stars. He sees it all around him yet on a single point. It makes him slightly nauseous, to look so far into something that his eyes will not offer him. It is… incredible.

“What you see is the Void, Teshin. All as one.” The words ring like bells into the silence.

“What would I have to do with it?” Teshin finally asks, dreading the answer. The Void is a place none have ever travelled to and returned alive, and for good reason. He has seen the results first-hand, and he wishes that he hadn’t.

She looks away, turning round to gaze at the ebbing glow of the Cephalon.

“My branch of work has been dedicated to researching the Void, and everything in it. Obviously, this work has not been easy; experimentation is impossible, there are few test subjects to speak of, and none of them can give an account. Up until last week I have had little to no progress, only speculation, theories, empty words. But now, with this,” she turns back to him, gesturing at the stone, “I have the answer.”

“Which is, may I ask?”

“Time.”

“I don’t quite understand.” Teshin grows tired of standing. He leans into the wall and crosses his arms, furrowing his brow.

“The Void is a dimension that we cannot possibly know in this one. A landscape of endless proportions. On it exists every microscopic figment of time that ever existed, is, and ever will be.”

Science is not a subject that entirely interests Teshin. “My question still stands.”

She flashes him a glare, but continues nonetheless. “What I have found may be the last resort against the Sentients. I have tracked down those who have been Marked, Fate’s children, who share the powers of the Void in them.

“Superhumans?”

“Not quite human, but yes.”

“And…”

“I believe you will be most adept at collecting them for me. Travel along this plane until you find them. They will resist and cling to their ways, but you will approach them when they have no choice to accept: in their last moments.” She concludes.

A few moments of disbelief and confusion rush through Teshin’s head.

“You cannot be serious. Venture into the Void? I cannot fathom why one would even consider it!” Teshin tries to control his rising voice, yet the Lotus keeps the same, easy tone. “And to rip people from their timeline, the repercussions will be disastrous!”

“This stone will keep you from harm, and them too. It will be as if they never existed.”

The blademaster was evidently unconvinced.

“You are the Master at Arms, Teshin. No one would be better at this than a respected man like you.” She rests a hand on his wrist.

Although he feels pride enter his chest, it is fleeting. This is madness. But, then again, what is madness, if this is the world he lives in? He sighs.

“You realize what you ask of me?”

“Of course.” She admits, rather plainly.

He holds her in his gaze, weighing in his mind the possibilities, the rewards, the risks. This woman, what is it about her than makes him so… enthralled? He has no clue. All he knows is that he has to follow orders. Damn those eyes, those poisonous purple eyes.

“I will accept.” He almost regrets it.

“Thank you, Teshin.” She breathes relief from her chest, and smiles more broadly. She takes the stone and places it in his hands. The stone is cold as the snowy blizzard that envelops it.

“When do I begin?” Teshin dreads that question even more now.

“Right now, of course. The Collective require it.”

His muscles tense slightly.

“Very well. Who first?”

“A good friend of ours. The first to receive the gifts of the Technocyte.”

This widens Teshin’s eyes, and his lips part in surprise.

“You speak of…”

She nods, then goes back to her monitor and taps into the holographic keyboard a few glyphs. The world begins to recede, and her voice echoes into forever.

“Find my Children, Teshin. Bring them home.”

***
He stifled a gasp when he looked up.

The man that stared at him in the mirror, his pupils deep pits of black and his dark hair damp and clumped by cold water, almost looked to him like a stranger. But when his mind rushed back somewhere to reality, he realised at who he looked at. It was just him. He sighed and hung his head over the bone-white porcelain sink, only barely keeping it from plunging back into the ever-rosing pool of icy water that rippled from the blood dripping out his nose. He gazed again into it, half-dreaming, mesmerised by the slow dance of the blood drops sinking to the bottom.

He gasped, eyes wide, seized by something he couldn't see. His hands slammed onto the sides of the sink. He hacked and coughed, bringing up nothing, despite the infestation in his throat. He tried to still his shivering chest. He tried to calm his desperate, rapid draughts of breath. When he realised he could control neither, he surrendered to both.

It must have been a few minutes while he waited for his heart to return to normal, for it to bang, slam, crash, settle and calm. He sighed and looked up into the mirror again. Surely, surely now it would stop? He stepped back a few paces. He wiped his hand over his stress-marked face, rubbed the dream from his reddened eyes and scratched his unshaven beard. He looked a mess.

This was the sickening routine he followed every morning. Most would enjoy a coffee, some toast with sticky sweet strawberry jam, a kiss and a shave before the day began. Perhaps a quick glance at the front page of the paper to start a conversation at work.

Hayden knew none of this. His wake-up would be his heart seizing and him waking up drenched in sweat, promptly forgetting whatever nightmares or equally horrible recollections he had suffered that night.

His breakfast - a stale, cold selection of whatever he forgot to finish the evening before, either due to him passing out or simply the disease denying him any more than a few meager mouthfuls before he threw it all up again.

A kiss would only come from the sickness gripping him. It's lipstick was a bittersweet mix of power and corruption, one that granted him his gifts of the Technocyte. But even though just not a few months ago he had used the same power to kill Nadia, to stop Mezner, it had cost him his life. He knew not to come to such rash conclusions, but the cycle had become worse and worse, each morning a little more punishing on both his mind and body. He knew that he was dying, so very slowly, but just as surely.

This kiss had left its bruises - a black mutated mass that consumed his arm when he was infected, and seemed to grow hungrier by the hour. Yesterday morning it conquered his shoulder, and by the evening it had claimed the right portion of his chest. He looked at it now. Although it hadn't changed much yet, he noticed an insidious black tendril slowly snaking it's way to the left of his chest, towards his heart. He frowned.

Hayden spat into the sink, pulled the plug and watched the bloody water wash down the drain.

Dragging his feet, he marched back to his bed, dreary-eyed. It was dirty with brown stains of dried blood and stank of the sweat that soaked the sheets. He forced himself to gulp down the water from the clouded glass next to his bed and collapsed into it. He had just woken up, but he felt like he had walked a thousand miles. His feet ached. Everything did.

He shut his sore eyes and tried to dream. He was asleep when the sun just started to peek in through the blinds and the postman was delivering the daily paper. No dreams came.

"Hayden."

Or did they? Hayden wasn't as surprised by the voice, but the fact that he seemed to be still asleep. He found he think just fine.

It's just my imagi-

"I'm not your imagination. My name is Teshin."

A figure appeared before him. He was strangely dressed, definitely not from the 70s. A loose woven shirt covered several prosthetics and metal limbs on his chest and arms, whereas his trousers sagged to the bottom over his armored legs and his feet in leather sandals. Gold and white appeared to be the theme, for it was found everywhere but his skin.

Teshin's most defining and starkly frightening feature were the eyes that sat under the his wide-brimmed hat. They burned white and stared into Hayden. Hayden felt his ethereal form narrow his own eyes slightly.

"Alright, then, what the hell are you?"

"I am who's going to save you. You have been Marked." Teshin put it bluntly.

"Save me from what? I can take of myself just fine without more "prophets" telling me I'm made for something."

"Don't take my words lightly, Hayden. The infestation has claimed you, and soon it will reach your heart. Your blood will thicken as toxins fill your body; skin will break, as will your mind. You won't see tomorrow's sunrise."

Hayden gave up the act, but not his sneer.

"Alright, I guess I need help. But what can you do about it, tinman?"

"I speak, of course, of the Mark. Fate has chosen you to be its child, and the Lotus will guide you to fulfil what you were made for."

"Save me the clichés, whoever you are."

"Teshin. My name is Teshin. It would do you good to remember that." Teshin raised his voice only a little, then went back down to its authoritative tone. A frown curled on the side of his lips.

"Right. Let's say I accept your terms. What's in store for me? What's the catch?" Hayden didn't sound convinced.

"The 'catch' is that you will never see this place again. I don't think this would necessarily bother you, but my time is one of great strife and war, much worse than whatever petty war you fight here. What's worse is that you will experience the most painstaking journey you will ever go on, one that will inflict agony so intense that even the grips of unconsciousness will not be able to save you." He explained.

"I could handle it." That arrogance, again, that dastardly arrogance.

"I wouldn't say such words so lightly, Hayden."

"What would you know?" Hayden growled. His body stirred.

"I have seen many who have tried and failed to return. Your Mark is what will save you. It will set you free."

"Why do you want me, anyway? I'm a dead man walking." Hayden tried to cast himself further from the voice, but it still rattled in his ears like summer crickets.

"You're asleep." Teshin smirked.

He snarled."You get the point."

"Our time is plagued by war. Our weapons will not defeat the Great Enemy, and we require something greater than human. Fate's Children."

"And you want me to do your dirty work for you?"

 

"Precisely."

 

"Hmm. I'd say it sounds like I'm getting the short end of the stick here. I'm no stranger to getting #*($%%@ over."

Teshin raised an eyebrow, unseen to Hayden.

"What I can promise you is power. Greater than the mess you have now. Refined. New. You will find resolution, Hayden."

An unsettling silence fell between them, save for a low rumbling in the background, one Hayden didn't like. Teshin stepped forward and offered his hand. Hayden didn't edge any closer.

"What do you mean, 'we'?" Hayden inquired, suspicious.

"You will see. Take my hand."

A violent convulsion racked Hayden, once, then twice, then once again. He struggled to keep Teshin in front of him as his world shook.

"The toxin is entering your bloodstream as we speak. Take my hand, Hayden!"

Hayden growled and swallowed his pride. In one moment, he reached out and grabbed Teshin by the arm. In the next, the world was falling and Hayden dreamt of agonising crimson.

 

The 1st - An Ember Kindles

 

 

The alarm erupted into life, screeching into their ears from the walls. What happened next was a blur of white plaster and hasty voices.

 

“Liz, wake up, wake up!” Benjamin slapped her on the back a little too hard, jerking her out of her seat and into some sort of haphazard run. Stumbling slightly, she snatched her gloves from the table and scooped up the helmet from the hooks on the wall. Endless ringing pounded in her ears while she fumbled around with her gloves, getting the wrong fingers in the wrong ones.

 

Once she had finally managed to get herself into an overcoat, the fire engine was already purring into life, with Benjamin and Hooper waiting impatiently inside. Her helmet rattled as she made her way down the stairs and jumped aboard the truck. Liz slammed the door, set the helmet down beside her, and breathed easily again.

 

A few minutes passed, accompanied by the growling engine and the silence of the three-man crew. Hooper, a man of few words and fewer years than Benjamin, was at the wheel, looking too intently at the road for him to give her anything past a few grunts or mumbles.

 

 “Benji, what happened?” yelled Liz into the back of the truck. Benjamin was kneading his hands into his legs and rubbing his palms together. His grubby thirty-ish face, complete with a missing tooth, looked up.

 

“A fire at the café downtown. Some dumbass thought he would be clever to have a %&^ outside next to the gas pipes, and one of them happened to be leaking. @(*()$ idiots, these days.” He looked back at his hands. “In any case, be on the lookout for any bodies, dead or not. I know this is your first real assignment, and you wanna prove yourself and all that S#&$, but what I need from you is for you not to go and be a hero. Heroes die, Liz, alright?” Benjamin couldn’t help but look worried.  Liz swallowed and stared ahead at the blurry sea of metal roofs, shining bright in the midsummer sun.

 

They felt the fire before they saw it. Liz squinted as the wind blew the sweltering heat into their faces, and opened up the helmet visor a bit to see the blaze pouring out onto the street, breathing plumes of black smoke into the air. She gulped at the sight of it. Suppressed memories, all too familiar to her, tried to surface, but she closed her eyes and shut them away again with her visor. She needed to do this.

 

The truck lurched as they came to a screeching stop. Liz hurriedly jumped out, being sure to secure her helmet and gas filters, and then followed Hooper to the building. She felt slightly nauseous already, and the screams of children and women, the scorching dry heat of the day and the ever-present stress on her shoulders did not strive to help her. She swallowed, paused to collect herself, and then ran in after Benjamin. The door was no trouble; the fires had practically rended it apart with their claws.

 

The flames flared round to welcome her, licking her boots and stroking her overcoat. Benjamin slowed to a heavy walk and wiped the condensation off his mask.

 

“Keep your head down, Liz. Try not to breathe in the smoke.” His voice crackled over the flames. She immediately ducked down into the clearer air. She found the heat had shackled her feet, slowing her to Benjamin’s lumbering pace.

 

The ground floor yielded nothing; the customers probably swelled the ranks of the crowd causing the commotion outside. Hooper was the first to find a body, outside the building near the gasworks. Liz only looked at it for a moment before heading back in and trying not to throw up into her helmet. The man looked no older than twenty-five, but the blisters wrinkling his dead skin made him seem twice that age. Hooper hissed through his teeth, but carried on after Benjamin, who was now climbing the stairs.

 

The residential quarters. The red carpet had been burned through, leaving them a charred path to walk on. Liz felt slightly dizzy now, and sunk her head lower. Her feet grew warm through her thick-soled boots. Her fire axe became heavier in her hands. It was just the heat, she told herself. The first room was on her right, while Benjamin took the left behind her. Hooper walked on, sledgehammer in hand.

 

The door fractured on the first blow and shattered like glass on the second. Liz cautiously stepped through, crunching on the wood, glass and masonry littering the floor. But as she stepped through the doorway into the hellish flames, the now dull air of smoke was overcome by a much more horrible smell; the stench of burning flesh. She swallowed, adjusted her gas mask and turned the corner into the living room. What she saw brought her faster to kneel than any pervading fires could, but no amount of smoke could choke those tears out of her.

 

Two motionless forms with little legs and arms sat in a weak embrace in the scorched corner of the room, surrounded by a hungry forest of flame. She rushed to them, looking for any signs of life. Their eyes sat like glass spheres in their eye sockets, reddened by the ever-increasing haze of smoke. No heartbeat in their necks. She couldn’t bring herself to touch them. Her hands would not let her.

 

“Benji, Hooper, they’re dead, they’re all @(*()$ dead!” She yelled at herself, at the radio, at the burning walls, at anything. A sob caught in her throat, and she sniffed a dry sniffle.

 

“Calm it, Liz, just calm down. Marshal says it isn’t safe anymore. Get out, and be quick about it.” Hooper ordered over the radio, which was already starting to show static. Liz eventually found her footing and, reassured, clenched the thick neck of the fire axe.

 

She could feel their heavy footsteps banging into the floor outside. Liz followed them to the door, but to her horror…

 

S#&$, the door’s blocked!

 

The wooden supports holding the upper floor had collapsed amidst the churning chaos and formed an intractable barricade

before the doorframe. It roared defiantly at her, smothered in flame.

 

“Benji, it won’t budge! I can’t get out!” Panic rose with the intensity of the flames. Something shattered in behind her.

 

“Li-…Hold o-…oor.” The radio muttered a few half-words into her ear.

 

“Benji, you’re breaking up, I can’t hear you! What do I do?!”

 

…

 

It’s fine. Just need to get out.

 

“Alright, Benji, I’m going to try and break it down.”

 

Liz stood up to her full height, raised the axe, and brought it down into the supports. Once, and once again. Even though the strikes were going deeper and deeper, her progress slowed, and each strike sapped away more strength than it gave her.

 

“Come on, come on! Talk to me, Benji!” She grunted through smoke-filled breaths.

 

Another swing, another wave through her arms that sank her feet into the burning floor. The next one gave a harsh clang and threw her arms off. She swore, grabbing the axe and readying another overhead strike.

 

“I’ll be there in no time, I just gotta-“

 

The flames were roaring around her, yet what she heard then chilled her bones to ice.

 

***

 

A small disturbance in the air shifts a few strands of hair onto her face. Immediately, her eyes widen, one hand shoots to the saber on her hip, and the other rushes to the panic button under her desk, finger twitching just above it.

 

Another pulse, this time stronger. Her grip tightens, and her teeth clench. She has not felt the air move like this, not since her last planetfall. A small whiteness fills middle of the room, inside the space that has been empty for the past few days. It tears itself into space from nothingness, ripping across reality and opening like a gushing wound. Soon its blood drifts out, white clouds of ethereal dust that wrap around the legs of the desk and climb the walls.

 

And in a single moment, it all rushes back in. Holo-pads are swept off desks, the lights flicker, the first pane of the window shatters, and The Lotus is thrown forward. She manages to collect herself, but when she stands up, she is a mess, much like the room. But what is now in the center makes nothing else matter.

 

There lies a man, hair black and shaggy, blood trickling from his mouth

 

“Lotus, I need your help, Hayden-“

 

blue veins criss-cross on the sides of his white skin, but there is red running from every orifice, from his eyes

 

“-hemorrhaging from his lungs and throat, something-“

 

blood trails behind him as Teshin drags Hayden to a desk and grabs a knife from his hip and plunges it

 

“-infestation in his arm, it’s doing something, damn it, help me, I need blood, call-“

 

blackness overcomes the red in Hayden’s blood, spouting from his open wound, he doesn’t scream

 

“-Lotus, please, help me! He’s dying! I stayed too long, I knew it, the fool-“

 

She doesn’t hear the rest of it. Instead, she slams the button under the desk and rushes to Hayden, grabbing his arm and holding it out.

 

Voices shout round the corner. “Ma’am, what happe-“

 

“Get me a medic, now! Type-O blood bags, two of them, too!” yells the Lotus at the first Guardian, who nods and sprints off. She turns to the second and holds out her hand.

 

“Give me your emergency adrenalin.” And he does, placing it in her tiny hand.

 

She grabs the syringe and jams it into Hayden’s side, to which he groans, but then relaxes before letting another spasm rip into him. The black liquid bleeds more profusely, and she keeps her composure. Teshin is trying his best to keep Hayden awake, talking to him, opening his eyes with bloodied finger, giving the occasional smack on the cheek.

The first Guardian returns with a blonde-haired young woman dressed in something resembling a flight suit, a small case in her hand. She inspects Hayden’s infection, turning slightly pale, at the brutish damage done to his arm, turning even paler. Another few moments, and she looks down to her case. She opens it without a word, and pauses.

 

Teshin looks up from his efforts and snaps.

 

“What are you waiting for? Help us!”

 

Her voice reads panic. Her face reads anxiety.

 

“This isn’t anything I’ve dealt with before, I can’t recognize the infection. What’s wrong with him, sir?!” She tries not to show her panic. The Lotus lets out a small scowl; naturally, the Guardian would bring the recruit. Teshin seems to feel her frustration, but he acts upon it.

 

“Just hold him down. Upper, get his chest, Apothecary, his clean side. Lower,” he gets the attention of the giant, who stands with an emotionless expression, “Hold the infected arm out. You should be protected, so hold it tight.” They all obey without question.

 

“What do you plan on doing?” The Lotus appears more concerned for her own safety, inching slightly away from the spluttering Hayden on the desk.

 

“Just trust me.” He diverts his attention to the woman in the flight suit, who frantically searches for another jab of adrenalin as Hayden’s groans fall quiet. “Tell me, medic, how much blood can the body lose before it dies?”

 

She hesitates, taken aback by the starkly simple question.

 

“Forty. About forty percent, sir.” She turns back to Hayden and stabs the needle in with a grunt, and the man wakes up once more.

 

“Very good.”

 

“You haven’t answered my question, Teshin.” The Lotus’ worried tone does not drop.

 

“The best way to cull any infestation, Lotus,” his sword whistles from his scabbard as he draws it, “is remarkably simple: steel.”

He brings it down. It bites into Hayden’s dead flesh and runs through, leaving a black mass to splatter onto the floor.

 

The putrid-smelling liquid surges from the wound, pouring down the metal edge of the table and pooling at the bottom, where the medic scrambles together her supplies and retreats into the corner. To her surprise, the Lotus hears no screams from Hayden, only a small squeal from the medic and the sharp intake of breath from the Lower Guardian. She looks to the near-corpse on the table, gazing up at her with pupils as little beads in his eyes. He breathes in ragged breaths, but his suffering seems to have eased, despite the blood now flooding the oaken floor.

 

“Just a little bit longer, Hayden. Hold on.” She speaks with a mellow voice to him, ignoring the medic’s curses a she tries to sort a dressing over Hayden’s wound and the half-words shared between the two Guardians clasping their hands over Hayden’s now relaxed shoulders.

 

The next few hours are an oddly quiet few, populated by the odd exchange between the medic and Teshin over Hayden’s condition, or the unneeded reassurances of Hayden’s safety from the doctor that perches over him like a hawk, complete with a hooked nose and frighteningly far receding hairline to expose his bald head. The Guardians resume their vigil outside the office, with the Lower having cleaned his gloves of blood and sown shut the wound.

 

The Lotus watches through the window with an even face, her lips drawn into a stern, thin line. Her mind is plagued by the recently made memories, by how Hayden whimpered on the desk at which she sat day upon day, the blood, just everywhere; it was nothing easy to forget. The stark reality of her work, she realizes, is a reality that has found her, not something she can discover within the safe boundaries of her lab experiments. Her eyes sting from the white glare of the hallway. It has been a while since she has slept, and she knows it, but she also knows that her work is not over – far from it.

 

She glances at the watch on her wrist, then at the corner of the hallway, which is soon filled by the modest bulk of Teshin.

 

Punctual, too.

 

And she smiles weakly to herself.

 

“You called for me, Lotus?” Nodding, he stops by her side, with enough space to maintain formality.

 

“Yes, I did.” Her voice does not offer any warmth for what is to come. She considers her words. “I greatly appreciate your first efforts, you undertook a task that could have gone terribly wrong, and you came out unscathed.”

 

Teshin finds it in himself to return a smile, but he feels that this meeting is not just about praise.

 

“However,” That word is never good, “I believe it was implied that you would bring back Hayden in the same condition, not whatever state that is.” She points to the man lying on the bed, arm sliced cleanly off his body with a stained dressing covering the stump left behind.

 

“My task is to present something meaningful to the Ten, something to win us this war. What I need is a weapon, Teshin, not men on the verge of death.” She scolds him. But scolding won’t achieve anything. “But what’s done is done. Your next… death is in London, August 14^th, 2010. Elizabeth Crawther, a religious child.”

 

“Pardon me, ma’am, you want me to take another? We barely got Hayden back in one piece, how will we deal with two of the Marked at once?” Teshin’s disbelief nearly breaks through his formality, and the Lotus expects it.

 

“We don’t have much time, Teshin. You can’t afford to waste it, either. The Marked are the only windows of opportunity that we have been offered, and we can’t lose them.” She sighs. “We were lucky with Hayden, and I fear that Elizabeth may not be so fortunate, if you do not hurry. Do whatever is necessary to make sure that they come with you, and fast. They always have the option of casting you away and accepting their deaths”

 

“I…” He shakes his head. “I still don’t understand the reason for such haste. If the Void Stone permits time travel across a dimension, could I not repeat the sequence of their deaths until I find an appropriate amount of time to reclaim them?” He asks, gestures towards the window inquisitively.

 

“Time dilation, Teshin. The Void has a much higher gravity than our dimension, so any time spent there will be counted here a hundredfold. The few minutes you spent there, they were days here.” She tries not to exaggerate, but Teshin is not known for his compliance.

 

“Hmm… Very well. But I refuse to meddle with the affairs of the past to bring about a premature death for these people. They are the same as us.” He stands his ground nonetheless. A trait she finds irritating and somewhat attractive at the same time.

 

“Very well. I have calibrated the Stone for you,” says the Lotus as she takes out the tiny box and places the mysterious milky stone in Teshin’s gloved hand. “You have your orders, Teshin.”

 

She nods to him, and he swiftly departs.

 

You are a soldier, after all.

 

***

 

A slow creaking that rang through the insulation of her helmet and shook her core like a resonating bell. Next came an ugly splintering of wood, falling embers, cascading flames, and a large black pillar plummeting down towards her.

Streaking fires engulfed her and seared through her hip when it landed. Pain flared up and down her body, rebounding and flowing through every crevice and synapse. She tried to wade through it, but it fought against her every move, like a viscous sea of acid drowning her in its waves. Her breaths quickened into desperate hyperventilation as she tried and tried again to fit more oxygen into her lungs, but, alas, the fire had won. The black beast now surrounded her and snaked into her lungs. Coughing did nothing, and the smoke’s constriction round her body only worsened and tightened as the pillar pinning her down grew heavier.

 

The next breath came short. Something was caught in her throat. She hacked and coughed, burning her throat with each convulsion. Nothing worked. The excruciating realization found her.

 

I can’t breathe, have to… breathe…

 

Liz wrenched the helmet off, grabbed her collar, ripped apart the fabric. The heat immediately rushed in, but she could breath somewhat. Her comfort was fleeting, though; she was bleeding out. The pain wasn’t helping. White swirled round her vision. Something rumbled in the distance, far away, but its effects were all too close. A huge metal box, caving into the roof with slabs of stone, cascaded down into the blaze. She swore and pressed her hands into the floor, but her strength withered, her hands burned, she was trapped.  A final desperate look into the heavens sealed her fate.

…

 

Perfect, unerring quiet.

 

Is this Death?

 

Not possible, she can still think.

 

These fires still burn, but they don’t move. They stand like monuments to her mortality, forever blazing in an unending inferno, hanging on an ever-thinning thread.

 

“Elizabeth, at ease.”

 

A figure, wreathed in divine gold and celestial white, with eyes deep as pearls, appears to the dying girl. The perfect whiteness behind him reaches round his frame and embraces her mind; she is cleaned, purified.

 

“What are you?” Her voice is mellow. Her lips no longer burn and don’t bleed anymore. She is relieved.

 

Teshin keeps his silence, reaching with a gloved hand for hers, but she snatches it away, like a curious child scalded by a fires burning embers.

 

“Are you… an angel?”

 

Teshin withdraws his hand. He hesitates on whether to answer with the truth, or dress his words with lies. The latter seems preferable. He hates that it is.

 

“In a way, yes.”

 

So, I am dead. Just like that, like the flame of a candle. Poof.

 

She is a young girl once more, and fires surround her, but she does not burn. The house falls apart, and her fractured memories flash before her eyes. Fire, death, grief, fear, chaos: a dictionary to describe the poorly stitched patchwork of her life.

 

“If you’re an angel… will we go to Heaven?” She hopes for an answer she wants to hear.

 

“Yes, my child.” That sounds like something angels would say. “But to get there, we must go through Hell.”

 

“Hell?”

 

“Yes, Hell. It is no easy feat, Elizabeth. You will experience pain like never before.”

 

Dread snatches away her response. She thinks on it for a moment, but comes to a realization, and succumbs to her exhaustion. What other choice does she have?

 

“Alright, I’ll go.”

 

“Do not take my words lightly, Elizabeth.” Teshin knew that time was ticking on, but he had to make it up to himself. One final

chance, Elizabeth. Don’t do something you will regret.

 

She nods her head, smiles again. “It’s my time, I think. About time, anyway.”

 

A light breeze passes her face, and invisible wings sweep around her and carry her up.

 

“Will I see my dad?” She looks up at the angel with tearful eyes.

 

A pang of pain pierces Teshin’s unsaying heart.

 

“You will find your family, where you are going.”

 

She smiles. This is a happy thought. But, as the sky slowly begins to burn at the edges and inks into blood, another thought passes her with the wind:

 

The dead don’t grow tired.

 

 

Edited July 15, 2015 by FiveHours

[ROSING]

WOOOOOOOO NEW STORYYYY--

 

I will admit that reading someone else's headcannon is a bit jarring but it's also cool to see someone else's theory of what DE hasn't told us yet. Super interesting take on the Great War. It feels a teensy bit sudden for him to pick up Hayden but I suppose since he came right at the moment Hayden was going to leave the world one way or another I suppose that is justified, maybe prolong it a little bit more, but that may just be me. Slight typos and forgotten words here and there but your characters are well defined, and descriptions are amazing as always. Looking forward to more!

 

Ohh, this is what you meant as to the same theme. Ah, whatevs. Go ahead!

Edited June 22, 2015 by ROSING

[FiveHours]

WOOOOOOOO NEW STORYYYY--

 

I will admit that reading someone else's headcannon is a bit jarring but it's also cool to see someone else's theory of what DE hasn't told us yet. Super interesting take on the Great War. It feels a teensy bit sudden for him to pick up Hayden but I suppose since he came right at the moment Hayden was going to leave the world one way or another I suppose that is justified, maybe prolong it a little bit more, but that may just be me. Slight typos and forgotten words here and there but your characters are well defined, and descriptions are amazing as always. Looking forward to more!

 

Ohh, this is what you meant as to the same theme. Ah, whatevs. Go ahead!

Yes, this is what I meant. I had my doubts as to wait if you finished, but I'll be keeping this on the side-project side, not as seriously about writing as the last project, so no worries about me stealing the spotlight :)

 

Do you think the present/past tense thing affects the story in any way? I was thinking it may have a more real effect, since he is literally in the past, but it may be unnecessary.

Edited June 22, 2015 by FiveHours

[FiveHours]

Sorry for the long wait, numerous expeditions, a contest and eventual writer's procrastination got in the way. I hope this lengthy first chapter makes up for it, though!

[ROSING]

"The best way to cull any infestation...steel."

 

YOOOOOOO SO BADASS!

 

I also really liked how Teshin talked with Liz as he was rescuing her and her thought process. I thought that part was really well done.

 

There are the small punctuations everyone forgets but that's not even important, just letting you know a few exist.

 

You also have a few repetitions which I'm not sure are just stylistic or something you might want to take a look at: "Wrong fingers in the wrong ones," "Sniffed a dry sniffle" etc. if that's how you describe her or that's a writing style you're fond of then that's fine, just something I was curious about.

 

The first mention of Liz being religious was only when the Lotus said it, which is alright, but since it plays into greater effect when Teshin is talking with Liz, you might want to allude to it sometime during Liz's trip to the fire or when she is inside the blaze, so it flows better story wise.

 

Apart from that, when I finished reading the whole thing it just felt awesome. Your ending lines are amazing!

 

Also, I have no opinion at the moment on the present tense form. I've always wanted to try writing a story like that, but I end up reverting to past tense halfway through...guess it's because I'm always stuck in the past :T At the very least I think it's fine, and it gives the story a somewhat unique flavor--from my experience I don't see a lot of third-person present-tense writing.

Edited July 16, 2015 by ROSING

[FiveHours]

Great praise and criticism alike.

 

Well, I'm glad that you enjoyed the story, apple cider really does work wonders! The thing I noticed here is that I enjoyed reading my own writing, however narcissistic that may seem, as opposed to my previous story, which just felt like more of a chore to correct.

 

The repetition was stylistic , yes, and now, after reading it through properly, I can see errors popping up here and there that I'll fix right away.

 

I'll find a way to implement the religious thing, too.

 

Thanks again for your feedback!

[FiveHours]

Am still in Russia, but all my files are at home :( very little internet, so I will update when I get back. Sorry for the wait, for whoever is following this.

[Evanescent]

The time continuum seems weird. What stops Teshin from rescuing them whenever he pleases? Since he can visit that point in time whenver he wants. Unless you are suggesting that he has a specific window from x AD to y AD to do his thing, wherein all the deaths are contained? Also How does the Lotus know of these deaths, so far back? Were they that significant? (ignore if you'll explain later in the story)

 

But that is some nice writing. I'm genuinely enjoying it.

[renleech]

What happens when one of the "chosen" refuses? Like "Go to hell freak! I prefer death!"?

Will Tenshin take him/her by force? Certainly.

If i were one of them, i would say to him: "I don't f****** care about your plight. And your future does not concern me. May the monsters you fight devour your precious people."

Edited August 17, 2015 by renleech

[FiveHours]

What happens when one of the "chosen" refuses? Like "Go to hell freak! I prefer death!"?

Will Tenshin take him/her by force? Certainly.

If i were one of them, i would say to him: "I don't f****** care about your plight. And your future does not concern me. May the monsters you fight devour your precious people."

It is actually very interesting that you say that. Not Kalenath's "very interesting", but just... notable. 

 

It won't be an easy ride for anyone in this story, let me assure you just that. 

 

 

The time continuum seems weird. What stops Teshin from rescuing them whenever he pleases? Since he can visit that point in time whenver he wants. Unless you are suggesting that he has a specific window from x AD to y AD to do his thing, wherein all the deaths are contained? Also How does the Lotus know of these deaths, so far back? Were they that significant? (ignore if you'll explain later in the story)

 

But that is some nice writing. I'm genuinely enjoying it.

 

I'm glad you're enjoying the story, and the story will offer reasons for this specificity. I tried my best to plan out the time continuum thing before I started this story, so hopefully everything will be explained along the way. Everything is still in its beginning at the moment, and even I am learning things as I go along.

 

 

 

Thanks to everyone reading, my small halt to this story will end when I get back from my travels in a few days time, most likely Saturday. I have been writing bit by bit on a separate short story, which I will post somewhere on Thursday / Wednesday.

[Evanescent]

I don't think I need to remind you of all people but I'll still mention that be very careful constructing time-related structures especially on multiple levels. Keep notes for consistency.

 

I'd like to see what Teshin does when someone refuses as well, huehuehue...

[renleech]

Adding further thoughts about my last post, i imagined some lines for one who refuses:

 

"Go with you to a war? Thanks, but no thanks. I prefer death. I PREFER MY COMMON DEATH!!!"

 

" I'd rather die than be your slave. Even if i can't keep my freedom as you take me by force, i will try to kill you and die because this will make happen what you fear most: WASTE of time and talent!!! "

Edited August 18, 2015 by renleech

[FiveHours]

Adding further thoughts about my last post, i imagined some lines for one who refuses:

 

"Go with you to a war? Thanks, but no thanks. I prefer death. I PREFER MY COMMON DEATH!!!"

 

" I'd rather die than be your slave. Even if i can't keep my freedom as you take me by force, i will try to kill you and die because this will make happen what you fear most: WASTE of time and talent!!! "

You'll be seeing some lines like those real soon >:)

[FiveHours]

Alright, Chapter 2 has been added. Probably the longest chapter I've done for anything, have fun reading, guys and girls!

 

Any and all criticism is appreciated, as I am having my doubts about the quality of this chapter, despite the huge wait from the last one.

 

The 2nd - Drinks

 

 

“Nothing here, either.”

 

Hayden kisses his teeth, his expression turning sour as if there is lemon juice on his tongue. It feels like it, too, for the colorful collection of pills he’s been given for the past few hours have formed an awful cocktail of sourness in his mouth that dulls any other flavor, including the faint aftertaste of blood in his mouth, which he had gotten somewhat used to. The sliding door of the cupboard slams against the edge with far more force than Hayden intended to use. He sighs, and looks at the mechanical excuse he has for an arm.

 

Complete with a golden-and-white finish that fits horribly with the natural grit on his skin, his arm is no longer the pulsating black mass that it was.

Instead of blood, various mechanical fluids flow through its metal veins, and motors whir in place of his muscles. He can still sense things when he touches them, but it is not the feeling he had before. Not mechanical, but not exactly… human. The procedure to fix it on, he was told, was not a painful one, mostly because he was unconscious, and whatever anesthetic they pumped into him would last him long enough not to complain until well after the operation was finished.

 

Well, that is what they have told him. He knows that something has changed him, through his journey into this time. Invisible scars leave cuts that burn like salted wounds, lashing up and down his frame. Hayden does not know how to dispel these scars, but there is a remedy that he knows will cure all kinds of pain: drink. But, as extravagant as this place is, their cupboards are barren and dry, much like his mouth, and there is nothing vaguely resembling alcohol to be found anywhere, much like Teshin and pretty much anyone else. His frustrated grunt rings in the empty halls.

 

It has been a day since Hayden’s “collection”, and aside from his thoughts the only words spoken to him have been by Teshin, who simply told him to rest in his dormitory and to get accustomed to his new environment, keeping words and any eye contact strictly formal. Hayden himself is surprised at how quickly he has adapted to the bleak grayness of the walls, to the clinical wafting smell of the artificial air, and to the absolute otherworldliness of this place. Thank God the gravity still works, at least.

 

He sighs again. It only occurs to him now, what he’s left behind, and whatever new hells await him. He has escaped death, but how long will it be until it finds him again?

 

Well, I might as well make it worth my while. He considers, and carries on his search.

 

He walks out of what he assumes is a staff cabinet and finds himself in an equally opulently decorated corridor. Red sashes hang loose across the walls, and grand, golden-lined triple-layered windows give beautiful views of glinting stars, spiraling galaxies and…

Earth.

 

The blue planet, although naught but a marble to Hayden, shimmers faintly in the distance. Sadness overcomes him when he approaches the glass, being careful not to crack it as he traces his fingers on its surface. But something else cracks instead; his heart. Grief washes over as he realizes all that he has forsaken, everything that he has left behind, all so suddenly, and all so… wasteful. He shouldn’t get too sentimental, though. It’s too early in the morning, whatever time that may be.

 

He carries on his search, dipping into various empty rooms, but one room in particular, somehow even more enveloped in grandeur than the rest of the ship, beholds a finding that interests Hayden greatly. After some searching, he finds a small safe box with a small tortoise engraved above the metal lock. Hayden’s newfound strength breaks open the lock with ease, and inside is a reward that makes him grin like a hyena. A glass bottle with faded black labeling and a still, clear oak brown liquid inside hides in the shadowy recesses of the safe box. Most certainly something that he would recognize and something he still fondly remembers.

 

He reaches in, takes out the bottle, looks it over, and pops open the cork. A sharp, ammonia-like smell stabs his nostrils and he jerks back. He quickly shakes his head and snorts, and then draws another breath, taking in the smoky wooden scent of the drink. Bliss.

 

After a loving swish of the bottle, Hayden brings it to his lips, reveling in its cool touch and the wafting scent drifting into his mouth. He just about feels the liquid touch his tongue, tantalizing, sharp.

 

“Making ourselves at home, I see.” The voice is neither forgiving nor kind. It would only belong to one man. Hayden pauses, takes the bottle away from his lips, screws the cork back in and rests it by the wall. One thing he doesn’t give up, however, is his snarl.

 

“And on nothing less than Wolfsbane, I see.” Teshin is by his side in a moment, snatching the bottle by the neck and setting it down on the desk.“If you really were so desperate to drink poison, perhaps it wasn’t worth saving you after all.”

 

“Why the hell do you have,” Hayden spits, “poison in your desk?!”

 

Teshin blinks, unfazed by the sudden shock and the careless spitting. “There is always a risk that we will be invaded here, Hayden. Should the enemy come aboard, it is only within my duty to prevent secrets from reaching enemy ears. I thought this would be a nice way to go, with the taste of good whiskey on my lips and a good view of the stars.” He explains. “In any case, if I find you in here again without my permission, that,” he points to Hayden’s other untainted arm, “will come off as well.”

 

“What do you want, Teshin?” asks Hayden, annoyed.

 

“Get up.” And Hayden does. “Seeing as you’ve made yourself comfortable, I’ll assume you’re ready to begin training.”

 

“But-“

 

“No. I appreciate that it’s been a hard journey, and perhaps not the most warm welcome either, but you’re part of the Orokin Military now. You’re the first one here, so I have to make sure that you give a good impression of the program.”

 

The program, he says. The Orokin sure do know how to make one feel human, don’t they?

 

“You’ll find your dorm three doors on the left, that way.” Teshin gestures out into the corridor, pointing toward where Hayden was snooping around before. “On your bed you will find a uniform, a security pass, and your training sword.”

 

“A sword? I thought we travelled forward in time, not the Medieval Ages.” Again, that brash, sneering tone; Teshin finds it remarkable how Hayden can keep it up with such consistency.

 

“Oh, and what did you expect? Did you think we would give you your rifle and you would go and defeat the enemy, just like that?” Teshin tries to sound more offended than he is; he is quickly adapting to Hayden’s boisterousness. “I am sorry if we did not meet to your expectations, but I never said that this would be easy. Our very existence will rely on you soon, Hayden, and you can only help us by cooperating.” Hayden appears unconvinced. “A master must always start from somewhere, Hayden. Even if it means using a wooden sword, you mustn’t let your pride get in the way. Take it as a small repayment for saving your life-”

 

“I don’t need this S#&$.” Without another word, he gets up and walks out, the echoing of his footsteps calling Teshin goodbye. Teshin doesn’t try to follow him; he doesn’t want to make matters worse.

 

“Training begins tomorrow, Hayden, whether you like it or not. Don’t get lost. I’ll call you.” Teshin calls back after him. When he finally receives no reply, he lets out a breath and sinks into the wall, gazing down into the faded marks scratched into his leather gloves. Time passes, Teshin’s thoughts don’t tell him how much. The Lotus’ vanilla voice caves in on his train of thought.

 

“I trust you’ve made friends with your new student, Teshin?” She stands in the doorway, soaking up the light draping around her.

 

“Nowhere close. He takes us for fools.” Teshin rests his chin on his wrist, cupping his unshaven beard in his palm.

Her disappointment, although mild, is scrawled on her unassuming face. She tries to offer the blademaster some sort of comfort. “He is merely in shock, Teshin. Flowers will not grow in an instant; they take time to nurture, so that they may grow tall and proud. Take slow and steady steps and I am sure he will be fine.” Her soothing voice reassures him, and he is grateful for it, yet his doubts still echo in his voice.

 

“I hope so. I did not walk the Void for nothing.”

 

“And I appreciate it, Blademaster. Have your rest; we all have work to do on the next cycle.” She says as she takes her leave.

 

“Lotus, I must ask something of you.” He stops her.

 

“Oh? What is it that you need, Teshin?” She cocks her head slightly.

 

“Ask the Curator for a bottle of Zieben. Cryo-frozen, if she would.”

 

“Of course, I’ll put it through.” She answers, but then a thought catches her, and she can’t help but make a quiet remark. “Although, you didn’t quite strike me as a man who drinks, Teshin.”

 

“You would be right, Lotus, but the drink is not for me. Apparently, our newfound friend has a rather fond taste for it.”

 

“You want to buy his trust?” There is a devilish curiosity in her voice.

 

“Buy it?” Teshin lets slip an innocent chuckle. “I don’t need to buy anything. His trust holds no value for me, and nor mine for him.  What I require is his cooperation, and if that is to be found at the bottom of a whiskey bottle, then so be it.” He finishes, clasping his hands.

 

She smirks and turns back into the room, a hand on her hip.

 

“I must say, Teshin, your way of thinking, doing, teaching, it’s very… peculiar. Unorthodox, that’s the word.”

 

“Oh? And what makes you say that?”

 

“Teshin, my work often involves a lot of bureaucracy, a lot of meetings, so much hassle. It often becomes boring, almost to the point that I question why I even do what I do.” She confesses, looking out to the mesmerizing view of the stars. “Too many times I’ve sat in a Collective gathering, and all I hear are the same ideas, the same plans. Nothing that has ever worked and often I find myself thinking nothing that will.” She now turns her gaze to the floor, hiding her porcelain hands from view behind her willowy back.

 

Teshin looks hard at the woman in the doorframe, his eyes never finding hers. He tries not to stare.

 

“Yet now, I must say that I am remarkably impressed at your approach, and I think that you give yourself less credit than what is due. Such determination is not often found within the ranks of the Orokin Guard, much less so in those with prestige like yourself.”

 

“No need to flatter me, Lotus. I simply do what I must.” Teshin turns the bottle round and round in his hands. The liquid inside is cold to touch.

 

A soldier, right?

 

Apart from a courteous smile, nothing else forms on Teshin’s lips. He doesn’t like to make small talk. It tires the lips, the mind, and often his patience.

 

“In any case,” she begins again and Teshin perks up, “I hope that your training goes well. Hayden will be a tough nut to crack, but I’m positive it won’t be long before he, in your words, cooperates. Small steps, Teshin.” She takes them as she walks out into the bleak light and before long, she is gone.

 

***

 

She wakes to agony.

 

Her clothes are made to withstand heats over nine-hundred degrees Celsius, but the fire that burns on her skin is not one that can be withheld. The pain scalds her, setting her blood alight like burning petrol, crackling like wildfire in her bones. Her head swims from the heat, but she has enough sense to see that she is not burning. So what is it, then, if her body is not swathed in flames, which brings her such pain? It doesn’t matter. She is overheating.

 

She rips apart the fabric of her suit, tearing off the buttons and yanking off the helmet, then throwing it away. Somehow, after endless squirming and writhing, she wrestles herself onto her back. Her back explodes in pain, and she clenches her teeth, tasting the taste of iron pooling with saliva in her throat. With wild eyes, she glares round the room, with thoughts wilder.

 

He told me I was going to… heaven…

 

But this place is not anywhere near what she expected. She lies on a carpeted floor, and she sees red all round the walls. The pain is easing slightly, but her head still throbs, and her fingers and toes are numb with… she can’t begin to describe it. Perhaps the pain has not lessened, but instead she just lacks the will to feel it.

 

I was meant to be with Dad. Mum, Gran, everyone! This can’t be it. This is just a nightmare, one horrible @(*()$ nightmare!

 

The carpet she lies on begins to glow an ominous crimson, the blood-red crimson of fire! The fire rises, the bane of her existence yet something that she has surrounded herself with since her childhood. She finds it never touches her. Yet here it is, lapping at her heels like a pack of hounds, growing ever larger, but not daring to touch her.

Why can’t I leave?

 

She pays the fire no heed, and sits against the wall, hugging her knees tight.

 

Why can’t I be loved?

 

She does nothing as it eats into the walls and the sparse furniture, but never touches her.

 

“Why can’t I just go home?!”

 

She closes her eyes and weeps, tears evaporating as they appear as the fire surges from her and floods into every crevice, cascading the room back into the hell she just came from.

***

 

He finds her lying there, in an inferno of her own. The flames embrace her like a flower’s petals and flicker about like agitated orange serpents. It doesn’t seem to come from anywhere, just a constant cradle of flames that she lies in the middle of, wrapped like an infant in a den of wolves. Her condition seems stable, but Teshin knows that stable is one mistake short of critical. A nagging pain in the back of his mind he knows too well for his liking, inherited from his father, is one that will not stop until his work is done.

 

He presses his gloveless hand against the heatproof window. It is warm to the touch. But slowly, almost indiscriminately, growing hotter.

 

His determined eyes meet those anxious ones of the lab assistant. She has experience in them, though, but not the right experience. He doesn’t claim to have it either, but what separates him from this nameless technician is courage. And this courage, whether withered from her prime or not yet discovered, is absent, trickling from her trembling fingers on the guard panel.

 

He orders, “Let me in.”

 

“It’s not safe, sir, I can’t let you.” Unyielding, nonetheless, for the sake of personal pride.

 

No, you just can’t let yourself.

 

“Are you disobeying an order, Second?”

 

“I’m doing my job, sir.” Force met with more force.

 

She doesn’t care about him, he realizes, but merely about saving her own hide.

 

“And your job is to follow orders, is it not?”

 

“Yes, sir.”

 

She hides it remarkably well, though.

 

“So let me in.”

 

Another moment of near-silenced, disturbed only by the violent crackling muffled by the blast doors. She submits, and sullenly uncovers the guard panel, pressing a button and slotting in a plastic keycard. Teshin nods in thanks and tentatively pads into the airlock, stepping onto increasingly hot panels like angry coals under his soles.

 

He wraps the loose fabric on his shoulder round his mouth and torso, shielding him from the incoming blast. He inches the door open, little by little, till the sudden rush of air flings it to the side and the hungry air immediately envelopes his frame. He puts his glove back on.

Teshin grits his teeth at the searing heat, but the mono-carbon coating under his skin protects him from the worst of it. But this, he fears, may not be the worst of it. He carries on walking toward the incandescent bubble of flame. Soon he is within reach of the barrier, and it roars over his head. Another prayer on deafened ears, and he steps through.

 

The heat is unbearable for the second that he moves, and although it is a second, he is thrown off, and the girl sees him. Her eyes look up; burning like the ground he stands on, but this is no burning that can be quenched. It scorches like the belly of a dragon, like a volcano in the midst of its rage. She holds nothing but hatred in those eyes, and those eyes stare at him.

 

“What… am I?” She asks in disbelief.

 

“Elizabeth, please, you’re not yourself—“

 

“How could you lie to me?!”

 

He clenches his teeth, for the second.

 

And it is another second wasted, and another second of ignited fury. Springing from the lightweight cords of fibers in his legs, Teshin suddenly flies into the girl, dissipating the barrier immediately. He twists mid-air as he grabs her by the waist. They both crash into the floor, roughly slide across, and Teshin nimbly catches her head in his palm when she stops. Exhaustion seems to flood from her, and she grows limp in his arms. But she still stares at him, eyes scalding.

 

She whispers, “Why did you bring me… here?”

 

He himself doesn’t know how to respond.

 

“You were needed. I was—”

 

Following orders?

 

He exhales.

 

“I wanted to save you.”

 

Don’t lie to her. She knows you are. Look at her.

 

The silence nearly cripples him. He gets off Elizabeth and stands up, offering a hand.

 

“You don’t care about me.” She bats it away. “That much isn’t hard to guess. But now you want to use me?” Her hair begins to lift at the edges, and her amber eyes grow brighter.

 

“You want me to live again, just to be your puppet?”

 

“Elizabeth, please, we just—“

 

“Just what?!” She yells, and immediately a wave of heat surges from her core, creating a shield of rolling flame around her. Her lips rise into a snarl. Teshin takes a few wary paces back as she rises to her feet.

 

“I just need you to calm down, please.”

 

The flames flicker.

 

“The life we’ve given you here won’t be one of torture, Elizabeth; it will be one of freedom.”

 

Her eyes narrow.

 

“But we just need your help. Please, Elizabeth.” Teshin bows his head, a rarity. He feels the flames cool.

 

“I don’t know what you’ve done to me, or why you want me at all…”

 

Nicking a finger under his chin, she looks at him straight in the eyes.

 

“But I nearly died trying to protect others, and I’ve failed. Here, well, I guess I really have been given a second chance.”

 

Those warm amber eyes soften in reflection. But, instantaneous as the flame burning inside her, they harden into stone.

 

“But if you lie to me again, I won’t hesitate to burn this place to the ground, whether I die or not. Then you won’t be the judge of who goes to Hell.”

 

If there is one thing she underestimates, it is Teshin’s ability to stare. He stares past her black pupils and into the white’s of her eyes, unraveling the blackened web of thoughts behind them. She returns the simmering look.

 

Teshin nods, understanding, and walks to the door, the Second staying well away. Elizabeth collects her torn suit, hugging it close to her chest.

 

“Very well, Elizabeth. Now, let’s get you properly dressed.”

 

She looks at him with a mixture of surprise, scorn and rosy embarrassment.

 

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

 

Well, now that she has cooled down a bit, her clothing does seem a tad… beefy.

 

“Something more breathable. Tomorrow’s a long day, and whatever that is will not suffice.” Teshin explains. Almost too hastily, he makes for the hallway.

 

She stops him. “Tomorrow?” 

 

He stops too, as if to remember. “Training begins soon, Elizabeth. You will have a partner with you; his name is Hayden Tenno. You can see him in his quarters once I’ve shown you to yours.”

 

“I don’t know where anything is, though.” She frowns as the bitter isolation of this place returns to wallow in her stomach.

 

“You will have plenty of time to find your way around. Also, it’s only a suggestion, but I would appreciate if you got acquainted with him before your session tomorrow.”

 

She nods.

 

“Come, now, I’ll show you to your room.” He beckons with his hand, walking out the door.

 

She sighs when she walks out after him, leaving charcoal-black footsteps in her wake.

***

Valeres pulls at her gloves again. There is still a small itch under her ring finger, but she has to stop herself, for the butler (or the guard, he could be both, with all that armour) is pushing open the door for her. The gloves really do bother her, but experience has taught her that it is wise for one to keep up appearances, especially for someone like her. Indeed, one reason for her valued image is that there truly isn’t someone like her.  But there will always be a superior, no matter the image, and this superior is already reaching for a drink. Given the situation, she would have done the same.

 

He is sat in a well-lit room, a stark contrast from the dim catacombs of her laboratories. Opulent would be an insult; not one piece of furniture is not lined, trimmed or outright smothered in expensive leathers, rocks and metals. A norm for the Orokin elite, but something that both perplexes and intrigues Valeres from time to time. Her eyes, sharp as ever, spy half-words on the screen flitting on the dull reflection of his:

 

“repor”

 

“urg”

 

“Valere”

 

“It’s rude to stare, Deputy.”

 

He catches her again.  Equestrian Jorhan, Overseer of the Third Company, with green eyes, a crooked nose and more wrinkles than an oak tree. Valeres often entertains herself for a bit by trying to guess his approximate age; indeed, none actually knows, and Jorhan is not one to reveal such personal secrets at all.

 

“Apologies, sir.” She inclines her head in feigned respect.

 

“Nothing serious, but the more bullish of us may take greater offence. Please, have a seat.” He gestures, and she sits.

 

“Now, as for why I have called you.”

 

“Yes.”

 

He pours himself a glass of Furen. Quite odd, she thinks, for the drink’s spice and quite electric taste is normally reserved for more friendly company. She finds herself now somewhat glad that he did not offer her one. He takes a sip and sets it down on a coaster.

 

“You know how I don’t like to meddle with your affairs, Miss Valeres, what the DSD does is none of my business, and I know that whatever you do in there is in aide of all the Orokin.” That sounds more like an open statement than an assurance. It feels like he is speaking from a manual, not from his mind.

 

“But my superiors,” the first word that surprises Valeres, because to grab the attention of the Imperatori and the Collective must either require an achievement of epic proportions, or a need for something incredibly specific, in other words, the Children, “are rather inquisitive about the progress of your operation. In other words, give me something I can tell the Council.”  

 

It doesn’t take her long to realize that they are being recorded, not because of the ticking timer nestling in the corner of the screen, but because of his words, how he, like every other politician and leader in the Orokin aristocracy, twists them. Evidently her attention to detail has gone unappreciated; he thinks she buys this. Well, for the lack of a better phrase, two can play at that game, Equestrian Jorhan.

 

 “The operation is coming along well, sir. The first two subjects have been collected; one of them only yesterday, in fact.”

 

“Who is taking care of them?”

 

“Grandmaster Teshin has done a remarkable job of keeping them in line, sir. I can’t think of a better teacher.”

 

“Good, good. I knew he was the right choice.”

 

Did you, now?

 

“What of their ‘powers’? You said they all share something unique?” He leans in.

 

“Hayden’s hasn’t been identified as of yet, but I believe Elizabeth’s has strong attributes to pyromancy. Training begins tomorrow, so maybe then—“

 

“Perhaps I was not clear enough.” He interrupts her with a nail-hard expression. “The Council needs results, Valeres, not speculations and theories. We are fighting a war here, in case you haven’t forgotten.”

 

She waits for him to take another sip, drain the glass and set it down. She swallows.

 

”No, sir, I haven’t.”

 

“Good!” he exclaims. “So, when will your subjects be ready for assessment?”

 

She looks blankly at the desk and says half-assuredly, “I’m not sure. With good time and an increase in the budget, we could be done within a month, but that—“

 

“We don’t have a month. Make it work, and make it work faster. I want to see acceptable results in no more than seven days, starting from tomorrow.”

 

She feels slightly shocked, offended, almost. “Seven days, sir?” She nearly stammers in disbelief.

 

“I trust you can do that, Deputy?”

 

She stills, and then nods again. Teshin will not like this, that much she knows. Jorhan turns off the monitor and stares.

 

“The people are getting restless, so are the investors. Times are hard, and they will only become harder.” He breathes, hard and slow. “I can allow for an expansion of resources, money is not the problem, but time, Valeres, time is the problem. We must show the masses something soon that will give them hope and restore faith in the Council. Do not let me down, Deputy.”

 

“No, sir, I won’t.”

 

“Indeed.”

 

Edited September 3, 2015 by FiveHours

[FiveHours]

A truly sad state of affairs, I'm afraid. Recent History coursework has led me to write the long pieces of writing that I don't prefer to write, as opposed to what I love doing: this. I'm truly sorry to anyone who might be expecting an update, although I would greatly respect those who still remember the story so far. So, if you're a new comer, or are awaiting an update, here it is! Please take a moment to read through the story, offer criticism (and praise too, I don't work for free ;) !)

 

The 3rd - Red

 

 

Elizabeth knocks twice. The door is made of something strange, some kind of mix between plastic and wood, quite soft and hard at the same time. It makes a soft thud, and an answer comes from inside.

 

“Leave it outside the door, I’ll get it later.”

 

Elizabeth takes her hand off the door, now not sure what to do. Should she enter straight away, or knock again? She clenches her fists, unclenches them again.

 

“Is this Hayden? Hayden Tenno?”

 

She can feel footsteps padding to the door, stopping right before her. She can hear the exhalation of breath, something whispering, and a question.

 

“Who is this?”

 

“Elizabeth.”

 

“Elizabeth who?”

 

“Elizabeth Crawther.”

 

“What do you want?”

 

“Teshin sent me.”

 

“To bother me?”

 

“No, no, I just thought…” Come to think of it, what did she think?

 

“I’m guessing you were feeling lonely?” The muffled voice softens through the synthetic woodwork.

 

“Yeah, a bit.”

 

“Well, I can sympathize with you there. This place isn’t that welcoming, is it?”

 

She purses her lips.

 

“No. No, it isn’t.”

 

The man falls oddly silent.

 

She asks solemnly. “Can I come in?”

 

She feels a moment of thought, then resolution. He sighs. “If you must.”

 

The door sweeps open.

 

It’s sparse, to be frank, even if what is in the room is immaculate, neatly stacked, ordered and without a speck of dust. A wardrobe, a drawer and what Elizabeth assumes to be a bathroom through the doorway opposite. The bed is what strikes her as odd, but the type of odd that interests a person, the type that definitely catches her eye.

 

It reminds her more of a hammock, or perhaps a cocoon, than a bed, with criss-crossing fibers enveloping over each other and a mellow sea of energy flowing inside. Elizabeth can blame its sudden attractive nature on her tiredness; she now realizes how little she has slept. Inside the cocoon, though, she spots a wooden sword.

 

“Well?”

 

Simple realizations are coming to her in droves now. She’s here to introduce herself. She finds the voice’s owner, whom she barely notices until now. He’s dressed simply, looking awfully basic, considering the grand nature of this place; loose navy-black trousers, a freshly-ironed white undershirt and grey gloves with the fingers cut off. However, what is strange are the impressions on his shirt, grabbing his waist and collarbone. They look like knife wounds, slightly darker than the material. On his neck there are small, nearly imperceptible scars, pulsating softly.

 

“Nice getup.” She tries to make a joke.

 

“Don’t tell me.” Evidently anything that alleviates the gloominess of the station would suffice, so he returns a smile. Elizabeth can tell just by looking that he doesn’t do it often. “For what it’s worth, it’s comfortable. It feels nice to get out of an army uniform once in a while. I guess I forgot what that was like.” His eyes unfocus slightly, looking past her. The irises are sharp; his eyes cut into whatever they find.

 

“Why are you here?” She brings him back.

 

“Same reason as you.” The pupils shrink back to normal.

 

“And what would that be?” She senses a change in temperature. Not as an ability, more as an instinct. She doesn’t know quite how, or what it means; she merely takes note.

 

“A lifeline. They wants us to fight for them in return. God knows how they pulled this S#&$, because I certainly don’t recognize this place.”

 

God. Where were you?

 

“Do you know what’s happening to me?”

 

“I know as much about that as you do, Elizabeth.”

 

“Call me Liz, its fine.”

 

“Alright, Liz, I don’t know. Teshin mentioned something about the Fate’s Children. We’re special in some way, and it’s probably why we’re alive as we are now.”

 

Yet, this begs a question.

 

“How do you know all this?”

 

“They didn’t tell you?” He seems surprised at first, but the realization comes swiftly after.

 

Heaven, so far away now. “No, they didn’t.” Her muscles instantly become weaker. She leans into the wall, tries to stand, then sinks in.

 

“Can’t blame them for it, though.”

 

It’s her turn to be surprised.

 

“What?”

 

“How did you die, Liz?” How does he make the question seem so easy to answer?

 

“I… A fire. Asphyxiation.” She returns a reply just as easily. Today is full of surprises.

 

“I’m guessing you wouldn’t want to live through something like that again, right?”

 

“Of course not. Why would I?”

 

“No reason at all. But would it be worth dying for? To never live again?”

 

Stubbornness is not her best quality. She looks accusingly at him.

 

“To see my family again? To end a life of loneliness? Yes.”

 

He reconsiders.

 

“That’s fair.”

 

Silence, for a short while.

 

“Why did you come back, then?” She looks at his feet to avoid cutting herself again.

 

He sighs. “I don’t know. I do know two things, though.”

 

“Oh?”

 

“I know that, for my whole life, I can never seem to do the right thing.”

 

We’re more alike than you think, Hayden.

 

“And I know that that’s going to change very soon, whether Fate likes it or not.”

 

She silently admires his self-centered nature. Quite rare, from where she comes from. Everyone is too busy with the lives of others to make any difference to their own. She likes the idea of change; perhaps it is just what she needs.

 

“Well said.”

 

“Thanks.” He breathes into uncomfortable quiet.

 

She dares to look him in the eyes again. The sides of hers sting slightly, but the effect has lessened. She notices how his irises seem to change slightly in colour every so often, like light itself is being split inside them.

 

“What’s your… thing?”

 

“Thing?”

 

“Why did they bring you here? You must be special in some way, right? You said so yourself.”

 

The blades, ever convenient, flare into his sides, cutting into him like a nest of thorns. He tries hard not to wince, turning his face away slightly. He walks over to the bed, unravels the silken wirework and jumps into it, bouncing it up and down before it settles. The sinews glisten in the light like razor edges.

 

“I’m not sure.”

 

“Nothing at all?”

 

Perhaps it’s time to be cooperative.

 

“Unless you know how to treat wounds that aren’t there, then no.”

 

“I hope you’re not being dramatic.”

 

Or not.

 

“No, I’m not. Something’s slicing up my body. It hur—“ He clutches his side and clenches his teeth. When the sensation passes, he tried to speak again. “It fuckin’ hurts.”

 

“Sorry I asked.”

 

“No, it’s fine.” He looks at her hands. They’re lighter at the tips, no nail polish. Hard hands, with a soft interior.

 

“What’s with you?”

 

 The temperature rises again, as does the blood to her face.

 

“Teshin says—“

 

“He doesn’t know S#&$, as far as I’m concerned. What do you know?” His voice bristles.

 

Try not to make this sound stupid, Liz.

 

“I shoot fire from my hands… I guess.”

 

Nice job, you idiot.

 

“I don’t know. It’s hard to explain.”

 

“I’ve got time.”

 

“It sort of balls up inside me then comes out whenever I feel angry or sad, or if I ever feel like I need… release. I feel scared, most of all. It’s hard to try and build a good life for yourself when you know you can burn it down around you at any moment.” She looks at the floor, turning her voice down to a half-murmur. “I guess things didn’t really work out in the end.”

 

“I know what that’s like.” He says in passing, as he has proven he does so well.

 

“Oh? Do you, well, mind me asking? What happened, I mean?”

 

“Sure.”

 

“So, what happened?” She smiles a bit.

 

He chuckles in return. “That’s classified information.”

 

“Seriously?”

 

“Seriously.”

 

“You can’t tell me anything, at all?”

 

“I can tell you a few things, but they won’t mean much.”

 

She says, “I’ve got time.”

 

“Very well, then. One; we tried to create something we shouldn’t have even dreamed of bringing into existence. Playing God, that sort of thing. It didn’t go as planned.”

 

“They never do, do they?”

 

“Naturally.”

 

He took the wooden sword in his hands and balanced it on his left arm, moving it this way and that. “Two; I’ve had to kill enemies, friends, innocent people, people that didn’t deserve their fate.  Worst thing is, they don’t leave after they’ve gone. They stick with you, staring at you. It fucks with your head. I’m lucky I’m hard as nails, or you wouldn’t be talking to me right now. I’d have snapped or something.”

 

She inclines her head.  “Sorry.”

 

“Don’t be. It’s part of the job.”

 

She gives an empathetic smile, as if to say “I don’t want to ask, but keep going.”

 

He thinks back to his previous life, littered with mistakes. He remembers a few things and grabs hold of them before they fall away forever. More pieces fall onto the board, somewhere around their misshapen holes.

 

He hesitates. “One last thing.”

 

She holds her breath.

 

“I think this is all because of me.”  

 

Elizabeth lets it out and opens her mouth, trying to formulate words. So many questions fly through every conscious connection of her brain, swarming with how’s and why’s and what the hell’s. Suddenly she doesn’t feel so inclined to smile, and she zips her lips tight. Hayden eyes her.

 

Liz’s fingertips are glowing a low orange now, and he intends to keep them that way. Wood, however synthetic, burns spectacularly in an oxygen-rich environment. She impatiently awaits his explanation.

 

“I can tell that you don’t like me now, that much isn’t hard to guess. I can’t change what I’ve done. I can’t change what others have done, either. What I can change is what happens now. And that,” he finishes, “I can’t do that without your help.”

 

She bites her cheek a little too hard. He was right. Anger does nothing.

 

“We’re in an alien world, Liz, and I have a feeling that we won’t be getting the best reception. Might as well stick together, right?””

Liz faces his steel-edged eyes. She doesn’t feel anything now. Getting up, she slams her hand over the release and walks out, footprints charred into the floor.

 

***

Valeres stands behind the protective screen of reflexive glass, observing, noting.

 

Meanwhile, within vast expanses of the training chamber, Teshin sits on a particularly thick branch of tree. The clock in his head reads “five minutes past the two o’clock”, in their obsolete earthen timekeeping. Lateness is not something that humans can forget as easily, though, he finds.

 

After some time, the duo appears in the doorway, Elizabeth first. Wearing training suits, as instructed. Duffel bags with training weapons, as instructed. Together, as instructed. Hayden has even shaved.

 

Teshin calls out, “You’re late.”

 

“We got lost.” Hayden, to no surprise, calls back.

 

“I sent two guards to bring you here for precisely that reason. You had no other job but to follow them.”

Hayden can’t think of a smart answer, so he plays dumb.  Liz scowls and tries to save some of his pride.

 

“He and I simply wanted to see the sights. No harm in wanting to get to know the place a little, y’know?” Liz drops her bag next to the wall and takes off her shoes. She adjusts the skintight suit where it is needed. One has to maintain some sort of modesty, after all.

 

“You can do that when it’s not my time you are wasting.” His lips draw a fine line. “Both of you, come here.”

 

They come to stand before him, solid.

 

“Arms behind your back. Left over right. Feet shoulder-width apart. Look proud.” He ticks off the invisible list in his head. After some bargaining and nagging, they finally stand at somewhat-presentable attention. “Good! However, standing around alone is not going to defeat the Sentients, unfortunately.”

 

“The who?”

 

“Quiet!” He snaps, like the crack of a whip. “Speak only when spoken to, Tenno. It would do you good to remember that.”

 

“Hmph.”

 

“I don’t want any difficulties from either of you. It will be a lot easier for both of us, believe me. Now, here is what shall happen.” He hops off the tree, landing without a sound, then strides over to the two statue-like candidates.

 

“First, I will assess your physical fitness. Secondly, I will determine your skill in combat, your stamina, your decision-making and your discipline.” He mentally ticks off the first point on his list: ‘standing straight’. “Lastly, your skill with weapons.”

 

“You mean wooden swords?”

 

“Yes, Tenno, even wooden swords.”

 

Hayden simply raises his eyebrow in return. Liz looks unimpressed, so far.

 

So far.

 

“Are either of you afraid of heights?”

 

“No.” They echo one another.

 

“What about falling?”

 

They don’t seem so sure this time. The blademaster looks both at them in the eyes, and they look back at him. In Liz’s orange irises, he sees uncertainty and fear, but underneath he finds ambition. A desire for revenge. Hayden’s are cool steel, hard and unyielding, yet sharp and refined.

 

Teshin takes their silence for quiet acceptance and bids them to follow with a nod of his head. He makes his way up the tree, nimbly and effortlessly weaving between the iron-boned branches and salamander-skin green leaves till he reaches the canopy, some distance from the ground. He stands with one foot firmly planted down, the other tucked neatly behind his ankle. The sword sheaths glimmer under the leaves’ shadow.

 

“Up you get.” His words carry down to them, along with a sudden sense of dread.

 

Liz takes a gulp and starts climbing, Hayden following on the other side. The bark is rough against the training suit, every little knobble and blemish on its surface making itself known she ascends. The first while is no problem, for the branches are crowded and thick, spiraling upward. But as she keeps going up and up, much like Hayden, she struggles to find a sturdy branch, each one becoming thinner and fewer in number than the last. Teshin sits quite comfortably towards the top, almost taunting her with his tranquil confidence. She narrows her eyes, grits her teeth, and carries on.  Hayden finds this task a lot easier and is beating her by a mile. Doesn’t matter. Teshin’s only a few tens of meters away now. One foot up, one arm up, one foot…

 

She doesn’t find the next one.

 

Eyes wide, she shrieks, and she feels her body give a sudden lurch as it plummets. Her vision narrows to nothing, but she sees something rush to her. Her hand pulls taut and yanks her back upward. Something has a hold of her wrist. She opens her eyes. Light cuts into her, and then she sees Hayden, looking down at her, squeezing her, never losing an inch. He finds her amber gaze for a moment, just a short moment, and pulls her up. She wraps her arms around the branch — she is relieved to find that it’s sturdy — and lifts herself over to sit. She takes a few breaths; in, out, in, out.

 

“You okay?” Comes the expected question, as he helps her up.

 

“Yeah, I’m fine.” Comes the expected answer, as she stands on shaky feet.

 

But he doesn’t expect her to say, “I owe you one.”

 

And neither did Teshin, who adds, “Good work, Tenno. The first steps to your enlightenment can only be taken through trust. Trust in yourself,” he looks at Liz first, then at Hayden, “and each other. Now let’s see how strong that trust is.”

 

The pair finally climbs to the branch on which Teshin stands; he is still gargantuan, even level with them. He points to the end.

 

“Both of you, sit there. Faces opposite.”

 

Teshin doesn’t elaborate, but Liz doesn’t need an explanation. Her brain is already screaming at her to stop, even as she creaks across the branch and cautiously sits, legs dangling over the edge.

 

Just don’t look down.

 

Only the slightest of glances, but it’s enough to nearly throw her. Her heart burns in her chest, stomach churning. Blood races through her ears, buzzing and beating like a mangled parody of an orchestra. Hayden seems just as shaken, though. He glares ahead at the walls and tries not to look too pale. They really are high up. Liz spies a purple sash through the viewing screen down below.

 

 "Breathe.” In. Out.

 

“Now fall.” Teshin orders, just as brief.

 

“What?!” demands Liz.

 

Teshin’s face remains drawn, and his lips as strained as the branch she sits on.

 

“You’re crazy.” Hayden adds, just as shocked, almost offended; why go through all the effort just to kill them here?

 

“Trust me, Tenno. You will not die. If a scratch comes to you, then I will let you go.”

 

“Doesn’t really mean anything if my neck breaks, though, does it?” Liz sneers.

 

“Do as I say.”

 

She scowls and looks to Hayden. He doesn’t like this either.

 

She motions with her lips: “Ready?”

 

He nods.

 

They fall.

 

Her world tumbles while her eyelids flutter and her teeth grind together like white stones and all of a sudden, she’s still. She doesn’t fall to the ground. Her hair tumbles round her like a black waterfall. She whirls her head round to find Hayden perfectly fine, simply drifting on the branch like another indifferent leaf. Liz is relieved to find her legs gripping the wood, preventing her from plunging down into the nest of bone-white branches below.

 

“You have learnt the first lesson; trust. The tree is your strength, for its sturdy limbs will never give out on you, as long as you believe that it won’t. Your trust in one another is the trunk of our tree; if it breaks, then everything else falls apart.”

 

They stare at him, silent, mystified.

 

“Now come, our training must continue. The devil finds work for idle hands.”

 

Hayden looks to Liz, puzzled.

 

His head is beginning to circle. He gulps hard before asking.

 

“How are we getting down?”

 

She snaps. “Never crossed my mind, Hayden, maybe we should jump off? The ground isn’t that far anyway, only — oh, I don’t know — fifty meters?!”

 

“Point taken.”
 

 

They hang around in silence for a while, then once her fiery temper has cooled down, Liz suggests, almost half-mumbling, “We need to swing up.” She offers an open palm. “If you swing up then you can take my hand. We’ll pull each other up.”

 

Hayden doesn’t appear convinced.

 

“You got any other ideas?”

 

“Not breaking my spine.”

 

She doesn’t seem charmed. “I can do that myself any day of the week. Now take my hand or I might just push you off.”

He sighs and considers his options. Fall to his death, or be burned alive by this girl’s volatile temper. Hayden would have neither, and would, above all, really appreciate a drink right now. He runs his tongue on the inside of his mouth.

 

“The branch is looking feeble, Children. Hurry, lest you fall.”

 

He was right; the wood would not hold out, creaking and rattling a deathly tone.

 

“Come on. One.” Liz swings one way, then back. Hayden does the same.

 

“Two.” A greater swing, then his leg slips ever so slightly.

 

“Three!” They launch themselves through momentum, swooping up and almost levitating for a second. He finds her hands and yanks forward. They finish where they started, but only just exhausted.

 

“Good. Come down, we have no time to lose.”

 

Hayden grumbles.

 

They arrive in front of him, legs still throbbing. Liz feels her fingertips warm.

 

“In your current states — and I apologize if I cause offence — you wouldn’t last a second in the field. Your muscles are underdeveloped, your reactions are remarkably slow and your body fat percentages are unacceptable, to say the least.”

Hayden says, “Nice to know you got your money’s worth.”

 

“And I shall. You will have fifteen Earth hours of exercise in here for every thirty-seven point eight Earth hours per day. You can do what you please with that time, but when if I see you lagging behind for even a moment, then,” he motions to the tree, “I can make you hang there until your legs give out from above you. May I remind you of the way down.”

 

He lets their dread sink in, like black oil into beach sand.

 

“Now, for a part I’m sure will interest you.” Teshin motions to their duffel bags.

 

“There is a wooden sword in each of your bags. Pick it out, test the balance, give it a few swings. Find your core strength.”

And they do, chopping into thin air. Liz finds it slightly amusing. She imagines Teshin’s head rolling onto the floor from every strike.

 

“Now face one another. Swords at the ready.”

 

With a snap of his fingers, Liz springs to a fighting stance, or at least what she thinks it is. She can practically feel his disapproval, burning like a brand into her back.

 

“Weakness on the Orokin battlefield is what kills us the most. No neutron bomb, no bullet, no spear or sword.” He paces round Liz, a cat stalking a juicy mouse. “When it is life and death, an enemy will spot the smallest weakness,” He grabs the quarterstaff from his back and strikes her ankle. She comes down on one knee, eyes wide and pain screaming from her leg, but lips shut. She knows better than to talk back now.

 

“And you,” He points to Hayden, who has adopted a more defensive stance, “you may have completed advanced combat training a hundred years ago, yet you show no discipline. Your form is flawed; I can spot at least five different things that could kill you if you present them to your enemy in such a careless,” one strike, to the gut, “indiscriminate,” another to his ribcage, doubling him over, “manner.” A final one to the spine, flooring him before he is even aware of it. Fury boils inside him.

 

“I got a suggestion.” Hayden regrets the words as he speaks them, but his pride knows better, somehow.

 

“And that would be what?”

 

“Give me a weapon. I’ll take you on.”

 

Teshin smirks for the first time they’ve seen.

 

“Very well. My sword against yours?”

 

“Yeah, whatever.”

 

Teshin whisks a sword from his left holster, revolves it round into a reverse grip and tosses it to Hayden. Hayden takes it in his new arm, somewhat uneasy with the absence of the Glaive. His arm silently whirrs as he swipes the air a few times. Incredibly light. Alloy metal. A red lining down the hilt. He eyes the last detail with particular interest.

 

“I hope you will learn your lesson from this, Hayden. Hubris is the punisher of many, a savior of none.”

 

“Give me a break, old man. I ain’t her.” Hayden licks the creases of his lips, looking over toward an irritable Liz, who sits on the bench, massaging her throbbing ankle.

 

The smirk is wiped off Teshin’s face within an instant.  Old memories bob back to the surface of Hayden’s thoughts. Sweat, lost teeth, broken bruises, bloody eyes, split lips. Force equals mass times velocity. This sword’s light, so if he swings slow, he’ll give him a bruise, nothing more. Give him speed, though, and he could draw blood.

 

This guy’s quick, so if I get out of his axis of attack, then possibly…

 

Teshin’s eyes stare with the steel of his sword.

 

Hayden flashes forward, lunging for Teshin’s kneecap.

 

Not to kill, but he’ll think twice abou—

 

Something swings over his guard hand and brings down the weight of the world on his head. He has a moment to react, stretching his arm to protect his fall. His head comes within centimeters of the floor. Hayden springs back, panting. His head throbs, but the aspirin given to him slowly dulls the throbbing pain.

 

“You think about your attacks. This is bad. I can see where you strike.”

 

Hayden lunges again. The flash comes toward him, but he feigns, running through his attack and ending up on the other side of Teshin. He slashes in a wide cleave and Teshin, quick as a cat, steps back, landing on quiet paws.

 

“Better.”

 

Hayden bares his teeth into a half-smile.

 

Now, let’s try not to F*** this up again.

 

Hayden jumps forward and lands on his front foot, sideways. His sword comes up behind him, blocking the incoming strike. The familiar clang of metal rings behind him, and he pivots, spinning round on his foot and entering a position to spring again. Teshin sidesteps, but Hayden does the same, and suddenly they are at each other’s throats, swords locked. Hayden spots Elizabeth, eyes like a hawk, staring intently.

 

Their edges spit and scream against one another. Hayden pushes with a yell, throwing Teshin’s sword off. He recoils back as Teshin swipes.

Now!

 

Spotting an opening, he drives forward, edge keen on Teshin’s kneecap.

 

Somehow it doesn’t reach there, and Hayden’s strike is thrown out wide, because Teshin is already behind him.

 

“Enough games.”

 

He hears the rush of air and the whistle of a blade coming down. He blocks it with his arm, feeling pain flush through him. He violently whirls round and drives Teshin’s blade away with his own. In that moment, when the two forces meet again, there is a faint snick in the air, a tearing of cloth, a soft impact of steel against flesh, and the crackling of something burning. To Hayden’s surprise, he feels the blade opposing his relax and clatter onto the ground. A gasp of breath, and the wet splat of blood hitting the floor. Elizabeth sits in shock, hand creeping to her mouth.

 

Teshin’s white glove goes to his side. He touches it, strangely soft, and it comes up red. Blood trickles over his armor. Underneath the frayed fibers of his interlocking links, Hayden can see flesh, angry, red and singed, as if the blade the cut into it were made from the flames of hell itself.

 

“How…?” Nothing but disbelief runs from his tongue, blood-thick.

 

A fair question. Hayden’s sword was above Teshin’s, there is no way he could’ve hit anything from there. Teshin would have noticed if anything had hit him, anyway. But, if not for him, and if Elizabeth, was still there, shocked, how did Hayden score the hit, let alone with such brutality?

 

“You both can leave now. The guards will take you back to your rooms.”

 

And they do, leaving Teshin alone, two blades crossing, one lined with blood red.

 

Valeres looks on, intrigued.There was a minute detail, one they couldn't quite see. She does not blame them, she nearly missed it herself. She looks over to the hunk of muscle by the wall.

 

"Keep the male under close watch. Send Pthyros or Ger to guard him, they can handle his... boisterous attitude."

"Yes'm." He turns to leave, thudding his footsteps into the floor. She reconsiders, then...

 

"Lower?"

 

"Yes'm?"

 

"I've changed my mind. I'd like you to be his bodyguard. Sit with him at his meals, make sure he exercises as is recommended, and report anything unusual back to me."

 

"A babysitter, ma'am?" She can't tell if he is being sarcastic, funny or trying to be a mixture of both. Either way, she replies with pursed lips and a sharp tone.

 

"Yes, you can call yourself whatever you'd prefer. I want to see him in my office once he's been fed, as well. Make sure he comes in something acceptable."

 

"What would be acceptable to you, ma'am?" Cheek.

 

"Nothing red. Such a... distasteful colour."

 

"Yes'm, distasteful indeed."