You know, I never managed to answer the question of whether or not power is truly a blessing or a curse. It's quite a conundrum really…it brings responsibility, there's the whole money/power good/evil debate…doesn't make things easy, does it? To take a cynical view, it is the greatest of blessings; you make bend your will to righteous means, or something otherwise. Unfortunately, it seems that power created accidentally shall always be a curse. As I have already stated, it is not quite decided, however, and I think the 'power debate' shall remain so for some time.
This isn't for me to divulge my political or influential beliefs upon you, for I am not a cruel man- incorrect. Cruelty is subjective, so am I cruel? Judge for yourself.
Anyway, I digress, there are two lives shattered, a third is creative, the fourth chose the lost. A riddle, yes, and now I will write the clues:
Numbers.
Syllables.
Incoherent, coherent, broken.
Astreamofmeaninglesswords.
Pain, brief, excruciating.
Colours! Everywhere! Damn them, out of the way!
A closed pocket, overlapping meanings the fabric, a button that shouts back. It unfolds, flows in and embracing…
She finds it comforting.
Then she is awake…the girl, barely still adolescent, tormented by dreams that pursued her behind her eyelids, where none could follow. She lay still, corpse-like, head cushioned by the malleable fabric-substance at the head of the oval-shaped bed. Her eyes opened a notch – pearly white eyes – to take in the room. Her pupils dilated for moments as they registered the lack of light and widened accordingly, until she could see…adequately.
One hand twitched as she worked the feeling back into it…fuck…must've been sleeping on it or something…couldn't feel a damn thing…there. The corners of her mouth twitched in a smile as blood began to flow again, and she raised the hand to brush a few stray wisps of hair out of her face. Pure white hair…another strange trait of birth. Brushing the fronds out of the way the girl paused, thoughts lingering on this abnormality in this unwanted state of wakefulness.
She tipped her head sideways, staring at a small patch of rainbow lights scuttling on a patch of the pearly smooth surface that they seemed to build everything from. Early-morning, damn.
The girl – you will learn her name in due time, do not fret – tried again to sleep, but it resisted and pushed away; it would not come to the door again tonight, not for her at least. Perhaps… a little time to think. She had grown remarkably good at contemplation – a little introspective, she was, in the eyes of others. Not overly so – her race was known for knowledge, thought, consideration before action, and most important, wisdom beyond mortal comprehension.
Ah, yes, I did not mention. Though those of her race can be killed, they are otherwise immortal – from what passes for puberty amongst them they remain in a state of perpetual beauty – once again it is subjective. From the moment they pass that barrier they are captured at their zenith, their highest point of life, for all eternity. War is rare, breeding less so, the reason for the Hate Passing…the girl's thoughts spoke of the event, and she felt a shudder at the unpleasantness of it. Someone had to die, to ensure a fresh generation could live.
Her feet slid out of bed, exposing slender white legs to the cool evening. She shivered as she left the warmth of the covers, hand groping around near the bed for the discarded loos-fitting garb that she quickly adorned. It was for informal occasions – it looked much like a Greek Toga, the sort of thing we see Zeus depicted wearing – and she had been wearing it the previous day during her studies. She sat on the edge of the bed, shaking slightly both from the cold and the sudden wakefulness, head buried in hands as she fought for control of her thoughts.
It had been like this for weeks, nay months – each time she woke, a few moments of peaceful bliss to make herself decent, then it would return…chattering, incessant noise she could not understand, it overran her barriers and broke down her will…every damn night…
A sob escaped her lips as she cast it out once more, the stress of effort amounting to a headache, as she lay back slightly, gasping for breath through the sheer mental exertion.
She ran through the facts again…
Two months and six days ago, the temples lit up like suns, crystal fire engulfing the sanctified grounds, four days later, the nightmares begin…the morning after that…the fighting…every day it tried to take over. She wanted to tell the others, ask if they knew what was going on, but would be utter folly! 'Hey, since the temple caught fire I keep having nightmares and the voices in my head are trying to take over.' She sounded like she was already mad, even to herself. No…a secret for now.
"Light and darkness, simple balance." She mumbled, below even a whisper, to the silent room. The ancient catechism, the five words born into minds of each of her race in the moment of conception. The words always seemed so hollow, pointless, these days. They were special, she was told, but for Creation's sake, why?
Aiira…that name! Everything about her was a damn anomaly. Her eyes, white, pearly, her hair, white and shimmering, her skin, white again…and that name…there had never, in all the days of her race, been a name like it. The priests had chosen it for her, and their concerned looks, hurried conference and whispers to Aiira's parents had only confirmed to her, even so young, that something was different about her. What it was had never become clear, but something had always been lingering in the back of her mind…
Aiira shrugged it off, trying to work some feeling back into waking muscles as she stood, giving a quick glance to her training gear; leathery gauntlets and greaves, and the weapon a flat-bladed spear. She weighed the weapon in one hand, the nightmares fading as she became ever-aware of waking her parents. They wouldn't wake for a little longer.
"Go!"
The call came out of nowhere, and Aiira was certain it came from within. She tensed, a moment's sickness rushing through her as stomach muscles tightened, and then she waited, spear in hand.
"Damnit, girl, what are you waiting for? Go! Run! Get out of here!"
"Who the hell are you?" she meant to sound intimidating, or brave at least, but it came out timidly, as a whisper.
"Oh come on Aii, it's me, Menthis! How can you forget your own sister? Listen, you have to get out of here. I- I'm sorry, I don't have time to explain."
"Sister- how?" Aiira stuttered, confused. "How are you…what…"
"I keep telling you, I don't have time to explain! I'm in a lot of trouble and soon you're going to be too, but you need to get out of here unless you want to bring it down on everyone. I can't- I don't have time to tell you about it now, nor am I allowed to; please, just take my word for it and run!"
Unsure of what was going on but emboldened and chastened by her sister's words, Aiira did as she was asked and bolted from the room, pausing only briefly at the door to snatch up a small band of dark obsidian, a gift from that very same sister, before she resumed her flight.
Menthis leant back on the ledge, sweating profusely, and she ran a hand through her thick, black hair. She had already undergone the pain of transformation…a pain she wished her sister would not have to face, but that would happen nonetheless. Her time had almost been expended in that brief conversation, testimony to the cruelty of he who forced this anguish onto the pair of them.
Menthis, as Aiira knew her, was no longer there. Menthis now was tall, seven feet in fact, and the peak of beauty. Slender limbs and a waist to die for, topped by a head overflowing with both intelligence and hair that ran to her hips. Soon the same transformation would become reality for Aiira too, and it would hurt.
Menthis wiped the sweat from her brow. She hadn't realised how taxing it would be. New powers, a fresh start, but she was young in this body. It felt surprisingly good, the power she was granted, though she knew not yet how to use it, but her sister was more important. They had to come to blows, but somehow, through some means, she would fight by her side at least once more, and finally trade shots with the bastard that had done this.
Five millennia prior…
I'm not gonna lie to ya, I was in a pretty tight spot. Back then…back then I was scum, near-as-damn the lowest of the low. Course, there were the actual hive gangs after that, then the rot that scrounged off them…nah, couldn't give a fuck about either of them. Hive gangs meant groups, they meant communities, moving targets. Like hell I was going to lumber myself with those, not in my position.
Twisting alleys, tall buildings, a labyrinth of pipes both working and derelict, very noisy. You could hear hivers moving ten miles away, if you stopped and listened. Half a dozen, maybe, if they weren't too careful. Me? One man, almost fuckin' invisible. Alone, you don't need to watch those dicks fumbling around in the dark, tripping over pipes and running into things. Alone, you only look out for yourself, your feet, your hands, your eyes and anything they touch. You're you, not anyone else, not the best in a fight, but the best way to stay out of one.
So why the hell was I on the run from almost every planetary authority you could take a stab at, with some whiplash jogging along behind me. Alright, fair is fair, he wasn't bad, mostly kept himself together, avoided obstacles and the like, but he still caused more noise than I did – sometimes not the type you could here. A twisted piece of metal, a muddy footprint, all kinds of noise that could give us away.
"Remind me again why the fuck I chose to bail you out?" I snapped back at him after he had once again managed to set off an echo in this cavernous network of pipes.
"Because I'm the only one who knows how to get of this junk-hole without being seen. That's why." His reply was explained in a smooth, confident voice, one that I most sincerely despised. Let's get this straight, I'm not a great fighter, as I said, I avoid confrontation when I can. I use my voice, pitch, tone, melody and environment, to misdirect those who might seek to harm me. You get people like Dark – that's that arse's name, Dark – who always talk in the same velvety calmness, sometimes tinged with panic if you really catch them off-guard. They don't understand the subtlety of speech and how it can be used.
Let me see, I myself had stopped growing at the time, a teenager, though not for long, and almost six feet tall. My hair never left a long, dark warrior's wolf tail and my beard followed my jawbone from my ears to my chin. That a good enough description? It's the best I can come up with, short of pulling myself apart and getting someone else to give you a detailed description of my internal organs. I'm sure I don't need to tell you that I was fairly slim, enough so to survive in the gutters of the hive world, at least. One hand slid to the knife I kept on my belt – I had already contemplated killing him half a dozen times, pretty uncharitably, but my life alone had bred a rather cold streak in me. If someone got to within a few feet of me, killing them was my first thought.
"Then for fuck's sake keep your feet out of the shit. I've survived this long, I don't want to get myself killed for you trippin' everywhere." As you may have guessed, I was already an eloquent swearer.
Then I heard it: Collapsing pipes, the screech of metal on metal and the sounds of thousands of tiny fragments chattering together. Fucking creeper. Centipede-like constructs the local arbites used to hunt people like us – like me, down. I was pretty sure it was after me, and if it had me logged, stealth was a waste of time. Now it was time to move.
I pushed off from the wall, Dark automatically following suite, and vaulted with practised precision over the protruding end of a steam-vent. My shadow followed me, with a moment's hesitation, and then we were running, just…running. As we moved, dodging scrap and discarded bits of machinery, I kept one ear on the Creeper. It was getting closer, much closer – too close, how had it covered that much distance? It had practically halved the distance between it and us in a few moments. I'd never heard one move that fast, but then again, I'd never been on the receiving end of one, either.
I stumbled and fell amongst the broken metal as the entire deck shuddered violently, as something, something massive, broke from its mountings and plummeted to the ground – that wasn't like the Creeper-gangs. Arbites tried to keep stuff like that intact…my vision blurred as I fell, twisting to land on my back, the world behind Dark exploding into a wash of blue hues, my companion throwing himself to the ground purposefully as something tore through the piping above us, trailing over our heads. As it passed over me, it unexplainably switched directions, knifing through the air and into my skull.
I can tell you now that it hurt, hurt like I was being filleted, slowly, as something, some power, some other conscience, invaded my thoughts, battering aside defences that had held for my lifetime, settling in the corners of my mind like some vindictive watcher. My life changed, in more ways than one.
Aiira staggered as her leg gave out, pain coursing through it from the constant running, she stumbled and fell at the edge of the vast bridge that crossed the expanse between the two nations, one hand going to the leg to test the muscles and the pain itself, and Aiira winced as she felt nerves twinge in several places. She- she had to keep going. Gritting her teeth against the pain, Aiira forced herself to standing once more, limping onto the bridge, muscles twitching in pain with each step.
Halfway across the mile-long bridge, she finally could not go any further. And thus it was not pain that doth crippled her this, time, but emotion – a surge of the stuff, flooding her mind, every sort of pain, happiness, everything she could think of and more, her thoughts overloaded in a seething mass of pain as she fell finally to her knees, dropping the spear.
Then came the knowledge, a steady influx of knowledge she was unfamiliar with, theory, overlaid with ancient practise and words that could probably mince her tongue, teaching her, forcing her to understand.
As poor Aiira fought to control this mental battle, her body was wracked by a more obvious transformation, reactions conjured from the air, changing her body, taller, leaner, a body to fight with, but as always, there is a little leftover. That remaining energy mixed into the air, incorrect compounds forming and reverting to their base state: Pure energy.
The explosion rocked the planet itself, though the blast did not, the shockwave shattering the silence as the fragile bridge moaned in protest to the forces and pressures unleashed against it, and, accompanying a noise that sounded like a thunderbolt, the whole thing collapsed, torn apart in a cataclysmic explosion, dropping away into the gaping chasm that led to the planet's core.
How Aiira escaped, I do not know.
A/N: Frankly, I'm not sure if I should be uploading it here, but it has lots of fanfiction elements and wouldn't really be suited to FictionPress.