CHAPTER EIGHT
The werewolf reared back on his hind legs and howled. The Carnasian army was decimated. The ragged flesh of the soldiers hung from his snout, blood trailing behind him as he strolled through the field. Before him, as well as in his wake, lay over a hundred lifeless bodies of Carnasian soldiers… well, the bodies of those who actually stuck around to fight the beast. Most of them opted for running in the opposite direction, squealing like the frightened bunnies they were. They were not worth his time. He liked his food tough and fighting. A challenge. And Carnasian soldiers had a rich, tangy flavour that made his mouth water.
Finding his way to a large shady tree, he circled it until he found the coolest and softest dirt. Licking his chops contentedly, he curled up in his desired spot, happily settling down for a comfortable nap while he digested the delicious meal that had just filled his belly.
Isabel cocked her gun and pointed directly at the door as Khivar's soldiers continued to bang mercilessly on the other side. Kyle was standing in front of the door, leaning his full weight on the back. She hoped that Michael finished whatever he was doing fast, because there was no way that just Kyle bracing the door could keep the soldiers out, and there was no way that Khivar's guards would be defeated by only the two of them.
She hated to admit it, but it would probably be best if they scrapped this mission. It really was a silly notion that a huge black cone could recreate the stratosphere of an entire planet, even a small one such as Antar.
She caught Kyle's eye as the door swung open a couple of inches before being slammed shut once more. The soldiers wouldn't be held off for much longer. They were going to have to fight or escape.
Kyle's eyes shifted away from her towards where Michael was standing. She frowned when his eyes widened in shock. Turning to look, she gasped.
Michael was gone.
Jienne Nykheb wiped her forehead with the back of her hand as she sat back on her heels. The med-bay was piling up with bodies quickly. They had run out of room an hour ago and had started putting patients on the floor. It was like there was a sudden surge of hypochondria spreading through the base. As the hours passed since the initial attack from Khivar, the number of people with ambiguous medical conditions had increased exponentially. Personally, she thought that they were just trying to reserve spaces near the oxygen tanks before the air ran out in the base.
Groaning, she pushed herself up and walked over to the atmospheric monitor on the wall in the back of the room. She sighed as she read the screen and checked her watch.
Only twenty-three minutes left.
Khivar was expecting them. It hadn't been very hard to figure out their plan once he placed the players; after all, it was an idiotically simple plan. Two distractions and one infiltration. They sent three to distract him while the other eight, he presumed, were split between distracting his army and going after the Granolith. Any cow at the zoo could have developed it. Frankly, he was insulted by the lack of effort. He fired a laser bullet at the door as it swung open, purposely missing the intruder.
Rath ducked back behind the wall with his gun pulled up against to his chest. That was close. If he'd been just a few milliseconds faster, he would've been shot right between the eyes. He glanced at Maria, who was on the other side of the doorway, staring at him with wide eyes. It was then that he felt the cold steel of a gun barrel at the base of his skull, and the warmth of his captor breathing down his neck. Raising his eyes higher, he could see someone behind Maria, holding a gun to her back. It was Tess.
"Shall we?" a male voice asked from behind him. Tess smirked and nodded, shoving Maria forward into the room.
Khivar was leaning against his desk, tossing a random ornament from hand to hand nonchalantly.
"Maria, Rath. How nice of you to return." He sat the ornament back on his desk and stood up, addressing his son. "Bind them."
Michael felt the change in the air almost immediately. His eyes shot open and he looked around frantically.
The room was cold, yet there was a prevailing warmth that he couldn't quite explain. It felt oddly comforting, like he knew on some level that he would be eternally safe here. That there was something, or someone, there looking after him. It was a feeling that he didn't get very often. Certainly never when he was this far away from Maria.
Nevertheless, his hand slid around his body to grasp for the gun he always kept at the small of his back, in the waistband of his pants. Swiftly, his hand curled around the handle of his gun…
…that wasn't there.
He looked down, gasping in shock as he realised that he was no longer wearing the uniform that he'd left home in. His army green shirt with maroon and orange Antarian insignias was replaced with a long navy blue shirt that hung loosely from his muscular frame. The dark green pants made of the Antarian equivalent to denim, which was usually part of his uniform, was replaced with snug, black leather pants. His ratty combat boots were replaced with well-worn Doc Martens that he'd missed ever since he left Earth. The platinum chain with the large blue sapphire, which he'd been keeping in his pocket, was now hanging around his neck, like it had always belonged there.
Although the soldier in him was wary of this situation, especially since all of his weapons had mysteriously disappeared, a part of him knew this place. His instincts told him that it was safe, that for some reason, he was meant to be here.
Scratching his eyebrow, Michael began to walk forward, taking in his surroundings, or lack thereof, as he walked past. There was nothing around to direct him, but he felt drawn to a point in the distance. The closer he got to his destination, the clearer it became, until he could just about make out a bright blue shimmer, beckoning him.
The light began to move forward, closing the distance between them faster, until finally, they were face-to-face.
And it wasn't just a light anymore.
It was a woman.
Michael stood silently in front of the woman, not wanting to be the first to speak. She was tall, only a few inches shorter than he was. Her long blonde hair flowed down her back like spun, silky gold, the bright blue sheen that covered her body making it shine brilliantly. Her eyes were a creamy, chocolate brown and her lips were full and just slightly pink. Between her neatly copped eyebrows, there was a tiny mole. One he knew well, since he and his brother both had one in the same spot. She wore a long, navy blue gown with a fitted bodice and a flared skirt. A familiar platinum necklace hung from her neck, the large sapphire resting comfortably on her chest.
As she continued to stare blankly past him, he smiled. He knew who she was.
His mother.
"Okay, where the hell are we?" Faith sighed as she looked around the maze of hallways. There were at a crossroads without any signs. Each corridor looked like the one before it: dark, dingy and long. It felt like they'd been roaming for hours without getting anywhere.
"Buried in hell," Alex said as he struggled to untangle miles of sticky spider web from various parts of his body.
"This is all your fault," Faith accused, squishing a large green spider that had attempted to climb up her leg.
Alex stopped picking invisible threads from his nose and narrowed his eyes at her. "It so isn't."
"It so is. Who's the computer-programming expert around here? It sure as hell ain't me."
"What's that have to do with anything?"
"You shoulda known where we were goin'."
"Of course. Because I have a map to everywhere in my head."
"That's why you're the navigation geek."
"Guys, quit it," Serena scolded as she squinted at the map she pulled out of her pocket. She cocked her head to the side, trying to decide if they'd turned left three times or four. It seemed that the whole place circled back on itself after a while. She growled in frustration. All the random lines on the page were giving her a headache and the arguing siblings weren't helping, either.
"Okay, this map is useless," she announced, crumpling it into a ball and tossing it over her shoulder. "Faith, do you think you can track Rath?"
"Yeah, easy," Faith said, refocusing on the task at hand. As much as fighting with Alex entertained her, she couldn't ignore the planet full of dead aliens that they were meant to save. "Alex, you better check on the other team while we're at it. They might be able to help if they're done with the Granolith."
Alex nodded and closed his eyes, opening his mental connection to Isabel as Faith and Serena leaned up against a wall, watching. Suddenly, his eyes snapped open, worry swimming in their depths.
"Well, what's going on? Are they done?" Faith asked.
"No," Alex said. "Kyle tripped an alarm inside the chamber. Right now, they're trying to keep the guards out, but…" He trailed off, looking at some unseen point out in the distance. "There's nothing in the room they can use for defence."
"Well, did they get the Granolith to work?" Faith asked.
"That's the thing. A few minutes ago, Michael disappeared."
"I am Sharyan Deeyaala Rathmeare, the keeper of the Granolith, sector 3665, era 973. If you are receiving this message, then I have died…" She paused, and Michael could see a partial sadness lingering in her brown eyes, even though she remained in a zombie-like state. "…I have died, as have the last in the line of the Rathmeare family, and thus, a new line of keepers has been selected." She paused again, blinking for the first time since she appeared. "That new line starts with you. I am here to guide you through the inner workings of the Granolith, until you are able to control it yourself. This…"
"Mom?" Michael interrupted in a disbelieving, and undoubtedly disappointed whisper. He'd dreamt of finding her one day. It was one of the only things keeping him going through years of abuse under Hank's hand. His brief encounters with her through Deimon's memories had only made that dream seem real, more concrete. It felt like she really was out there somewhere, just waiting for her son to return.
But as he watched the ghostly figure in front of him, he felt that dream flutter away. This couldn't be her. In the memory flashes, she was lively and full of spirit. This person in front of him was dim and…lifeless. Just an empty shell of what he had seen in his flashbacks of Deimon's life. It was like her whole soul was gone.
And indeed, on some level he had expected it, but it still saddened to him to find that she was dead. It was just another dream completely crushed. With a sad sigh, he resigned himself to listening to the robotic spectre.
But she wasn't talking anymore.
Sharyan abruptly stopped talking, focussing on the man in front of her. Her eyes roamed over his face, taking in every feature and comparing it to the picture that haunted her mind throughout her entrapment within the Granolith.
"Deimon?" she whispered, reaching forward to touch his face. "You're alive? You made it?"
Michael nodded silently, closing his eyes and leaning into her touch.
"Oh my God!" she exclaimed, pulling him in for a full hug, bouncing excitedly on her toes. "So my efforts were not in vain! I thought I'd lost you forever." She held him at arm's length, pushing on his shoulders to make him spin around. "And how you've grown!" She grabbed his hand and dragged him forward onto a baby blue couch that appeared out of nowhere. "Tell me, how long have I been gone? How much of your life have I missed? I suppose it was a lot, judging by your size. When last I saw you, I could lift you in my arms easily. Now, I suspect you could do the same to me," she rambled eagerly, a huge grin on her face.
"I'm twenty," he started.
"Eighteen years!" she interrupted. "So many years! I can't believe I've been gone so long."
"Actually," Michael said, shifting uncomfortably. "It's been longer. I'm not the…original…Deimon."
Sharyan scratched her eyebrow and frowned in confusion. "I don't understand."
"Deimon, the original Deimon, died eleven years ago, in battle." She gasped, bringing a hand to her mouth in shock. "He was twenty-three."
"So…you're his son?" she asked.
"No, I…"
"Was it Khivar? That evil, smarmy bastard, I'd kill him now if I were alive," she muttered angrily, clenching her fists. "What happened? Did he attack Pylea? Is Xuni alright?"
"I-Deimon never made it to Pylea. The ship was attacked. It crashed on Antar, where I was found by the Royal family."
"Oh, Siare, bless her soul," Sharyan murmured.
"He didn't remember who he was, or where he came from, so they adopted him and named him Rath." Michael paused, as if something just occurred to him. "I guess that was probably a hint, huh?"
"Yes, of course, because you are from the Rathmeare family. Any Royal would be able to tell." She touched his forehead with her index finger. "That's our family marking."
Michael scratched his eyebrow self-consciously and continued with his story. "Rath was General of the armies and became second-in-command when Prince Zan ascended to the throne. Around then, the war between Carnath and Antar started to build up, when Khivar realised that we had the Granolith."
"A pointless search on his part. Only a suitable heir from the original line can control the Granolith," she commented. Michael stared at her for a few seconds. "What?"
"You don't know," he stated.
"Don't know what?"
"Who Khivar is."
"A complete maniac, what else is there?"
"He's your brother."
"What? You must be mistaken."
"I'm not. Kyden is Khivar."
Sharyan shook her head in disbelief, running a hand through her hair. "No, I don't believe it," she insisted. "Ky…my Ky? I-it's not possible. It just isn't. I don't believe you."
"I know you don't want to, but it's the truth. Your brother killed us both," he said firmly. "He took my family away from me back then and now…" Michael stopped abruptly as he remembered the real reason for him being here. In all the excitement of finally finding his mother, he'd almost forgotten about the mission. "Before, you told me that you'd help me control the Granolith. Does that still stand?"
"I…what?" She stared at him, confused. "Yes. Of course it does. What do you…?"
"I need to…the Granolith; can it recreate the atmosphere of a planet? Kind of like a reset?"
"What's this for?" she asked.
"Yesterday, Khivar launched a chemical attack on Antar," he explained, "It changed the atmosphere so much that full Antarians can't survive there anymore. And I can only do so much with my powers; I can't fix a whole planet by myself. As it is, the fix I did on the base is probably running out."
"My God," she whispered, closing her eyes. "And all this, it's because of Kyden?"
Michael nodded. "Yes." He checked his watch, rolling his eyes when he realised it had disappeared with all his weapons. "Can it be done?"
Sharyan closed her eyes for a second before answering. When she reopened them, he could see the worry in her eyes. "It can, but Deimon…"
"Good, show me how," he interrupted.
"It takes a lot of energy and control. I might have been able to accomplish it in my prime as a keeper, but it would have completely drained me. You've never even tapped into the Granolith's power. Deimon, that kind of power…it could kill you."
Michael hung his head, taking a deep breath as he thought about Maria and Rath and the rest of his friends. His family. Then he thought of his people, lying dead on the streets, with those who had survived not looking much better. He couldn't just leave them to die. Even if it cost him everything.
"Show me."
'Michael? Michael!'
There was no answer.
Maria had been calling for him in her mind for what seemed like days, but was actually about ten minutes. Although it didn't show on the outside, she could feel the panic rising in her throat, just waiting for the chance to release itself in a fit of hysteria.
A few minutes ago, just after she and Rath had been 'recaptured' by Khivar, she'd felt a large surge of power through her connection with Michael. A surge she usually only got when Deimon was making an appearance. Although Michael and Deimon weren't completely the same person, for indeed they had small differences in mentality, she still had some connection to her boyfriend's past life. She could still feel Michael, even when Deimon was at the surface.
But this time was different. This time, she couldn't feel either of them. There was just a vast emptiness in her mind, a gaping hole where Michael's presence usually occupied. It was like he wasn't there anymore.
Tears stung her eyes as she thought about what that could mean.
She shook her head slightly, banishing the thought from her head. No, she wouldn't believe it. She would keep trying to contact him.
'Michael!'
"Say the spell!" Kyle yelled as the soldier shoved the door yet again. Veins of effort were popping up in his neck and on his forehead as he forced the door closed. His muscles were starting to burn in a way he hadn't felt since that time he'd tried to beat Paulie's record for most bench presses four years ago. He could already feel his limbs trembling from the strain. One way or another, this was going to end soon. "Iz!"
Isabel had rushed over to the Granolith, banging on its edges and calling for Michael. She turned to Kyle. "We can't just leave him here!"
"We don't know where he is!"
"He's in the Granolith, where else could he be? There's no other way out."
Kyle grunted as the door swung open a few inches, hitting him in his already sore shoulder.
"Look, Iz, I know you don't want to leave him, but we don't have a choice."
"We do have a choice, Kyle, we can stay here and fight!"
"Fight where? Isabel, we have no cover, we'll die in the first five minutes."
"Kyle, we…"
"No," Kyle said firmly. "Open the portal."
"But…"
"No. Even if he is in the Granolith, we wouldn't know how to get him out, and neither will they," he reasoned, gesturing to the door. He looked into her eyes, holding her gaze steadily. "Open it."
Isabel sighed and nodded, closing her eyes as she pulled a neatly folded piece of paper from her back pocket. Standing directly in front of the Granolith, she recited the spell.
"What a way for this to end, hmm?" Khivar said as he slowly paced in front of his prisoners. He stopped in front of Maria, who continued to stare straight past him, green eyes glazed over. He grabbed her roughly by the chin. "Am I boring you?"
Maria's gaze snapped to his face, anger and hatred clouding over her features as she saw the man in front of her.
Khivar patted her cheek and smiled at her patronisingly. "That's better." He stepped back, moving to stand in front of Rath. "I always thought that I would defeat you out on the battlefield, in the heart of this war. How nice of you to give yourself up to me. It saves me the trouble. It's less fun but…more practical." He slowly paced around the two captives, coming to a stop behind Rath's chair. Suddenly, he wrenched his head back by the hair, practically yelling in his face. "Did you really think I would be fooled so easily?" He tossed Rath's head forward in disgust. "Your friends will never get the Granolith. It's too well protected. I've been prepared for this moment for years, Rath, and there is absolutely no way that I'll lose now."
"I can think of ten different ways that you'll lose," Maria growled.
"Yeah, and all of them include your death at someone else's hand." He pouted in fake disappointment. "But oh, dear me, what'll the fun be in that?" He walked over to Lindsey's side, posing with his hand cupped under his chin, index finger tapping his chin as he pretended to be deep in thought. "Unless…well, you know how I love a good show. Why, yes, why had I never thought of this before? I shall give you your wish at having someone else kill you. Lindsey will do the honours." He patted his son on the shoulder. "Do you still have that Earth camera?" A slow, evil smile spread across Lindsey's face as he began to follow his father's train of thought. "It'll be like that delightful program I watched on Earth once. What was it called? 'Alien Autopsy' I believe." He leaned in, stopping a few inches short of Maria's face. "And you are the alien here, aren't you?"
Maria narrowed her eyes at him, pulling at the ropes that bound her wrists, before opting for the next best thing. Khivar just leaned back, chuckling mockingly as he wiped the spit off his face.
"So cute," he said with a smirk, before turning to Lindsey, who was turned towards the back wall, glaring at the blue marble. "What are you doing?" he asked, curiously.
"There's some…" Lindsey was cut off by the beep of his com-link. Answering it, he turned away from the wall and frowned. "That was the lieutenant in charge of guarding the Granolith."
"What about it?"
"There're intruders in the chamber. They haven't been able to get in yet."
"Useless fools," Khivar muttered angrily under his breath. Running a hand through his hair, he turned to the small blonde who had been standing quietly in the corner, awaiting instruction. "Tess, take care of it. Bring those intruders to me."
Tess nodded, and left silently.
Rath smirked smugly. "Problems?"
"None of your concern," Khivar roared. "Lindsey!"
The man was once again staring at the wall. "There's someone coming. Through the passages."
Khivar raised an eyebrow. "And how would you know this?"
"I don't know. I just feel someone. Somebody familiar."
Maria and Rath shared a look. Khivar noticed. "How much longer until they're upon us?"
"A few minutes?"
Khivar sighed in annoyance, tossing his son a gun. "Well prepare to greet our new guests, then." He stopped and looked at Rath, who had a glazed look on his face. And Khivar wasn't a stupid man, by any means. He knew what that look meant. "Oh no you don't." With a swiftness that rivalled any slayer, he whipped out another gun and shot him in the head. Rath didn't even have time to flinch as the laser bullet lodged itself in his skull, right between the eyes. "We can't have you sending them a message, can we?" he said, smirking evilly at the limp body that sat before him.
Maria gasped as Rath slumped forward, tiny drops of blood trickling from his wound. "Rath? Rath, no! Wake up, get up now!" she cried in vain. She knew he was dead.
"Goodbye, dear nephew, you'll not be sorely missed."
"That's the door," Faith said, pointing to a large square in the wall, highlighted by a thin line of light.
"You're sure?" Serena asked.
Faith narrowed her eyes at her. "Yeah, I'm sure." She pressed her weight against the door, but suddenly stopped, grabbing her head as a sharp pain ripped through her skull.
"Faith?" Alex said, concerned.
"Argh," she cried. "God, it hurts…"
"What is it?" Serena asked, putting a hand on her shoulder. "What hurts?"
Faith was panting now as she struggled to force the pain back. "Ra…Rath," she gasped as she struggled to form a connection with her boyfriend. Something was wrong. She could feel it. If only she could talk to him, she could figure out what…
…and suddenly she realised. Suddenly she figured out why it felt like a part of her brain had been torn out of her skull, why her soul suddenly felt so empty.
"No…no, no…" she muttered, shaking her head as she backed up to the wall and slid down to sit on the dusty floor.
"What? Faith, you're scaring me," Serena said.
Faith looked up at them, and Alex gasped as he saw his sister, his strong, tough, badass sister crying. Big, fat, salty tears ran unchecked down her cheeks as she stared at him. "He's gone…I-I can't feel him anymore." Alex's eyes widened as he figured out what she meant. Without hesitation, he swept her up into a comforting hug. "Rath's dead."
"Your highness," someone exclaimed in surprise. Jienne turned away from her patient and watched, with everyone else in the room, as the king walked into the med-bay.
"Thank God you're here!" one of the older patients cried. "We will surely be saved from this disaster! Pray tell, if I may be so bold, what is your plan to save us all?" Max stared at the old woman, not really seeing or hearing her. His mind was lost in a fog that only allowed for the most basic of Max's motor functions: getting to Liz. Without a word, Max stepped around his faithful subject and headed towards the Royal morgue.
Jienne sighed, watching the entire room deflate as the red door slammed shut behind the uncaring king. She glanced at her watch and counted down.
Ten minutes left…
Faith pushed Alex away and pulled herself off the floor, hastily wiping away her tears. The pain that had settled in her eyes after her revelation had slowly but surely shifted; and now only anger and grief resided in their chocolate depths. She reached into her hip-holster, pulling out her favourite gun and cocking it roughly.
"That bastard won't live another minute," she growled as she moved towards the door. She turned to her team, who were also pulling out their guns. "You ready?" She didn't wait for a reply as she pulled back and jump kicked the door open. It all seemed to happen in slow motion after that.
Maria's gaze snapped away from Rath's dead body to the far wall as it flew open.
Lindsey's finger tightened around the trigger at the same moment Maria yelled a warning at her friends.
Faith instinctively raised her gun and fired at Lindsey.
Milliseconds before the two bullets crossed paths, a portal opened up ten feet above the floor in the space between, and a pale body with platinum blonde hair fell through, catching both bullets in the shoulder before hitting the ground with a loud thump. The whole room froze as the figure sat up with a grimace on his face.
"Bloody hell!" he exclaimed, glancing between the two parties, then back at his aching wound. "Bloody kids. That's the last time I play the soddin' babysitter."
"Spike?"
That seemed to put everyone back into action.
Max sat down on the chair he'd placed by her bedside. She hadn't moved an inch since he last saw her, which was to be expected since she was…Tears pricked the back of his eyes as he picked up her hand and kissed the back.
"How could I have let this happen?" he asked for what seemed like the millionth time. He asked that same question every time he came here, but he never got the answer he needed. "How could I let you die? I never even…"
"She can't tell you the answer. She's already dead," a familiar voice echoed from behind him.
Max jumped up from his chair and spun around, gasping in shock. A young woman stood by the door, her long brown hair blowing in non-existent wind, and her petit body lighted by a bright white glow that seemed to shine from her skin itself. A pair of brown, doe eyes smiled at him from across the room as she spoke.
"Liz!" Max gasped.
"Hello Max."
"You're alive!"
Liz shook her head sadly. "No, I'm not alive. I haven't been for a while." Max's shoulders slumped and he flopped back into his chair, all the energy sucked out of him as the truth smacked him in the face again.
Liz sighed and floated over, following his gaze to her own dead body. It was depressing, and slightly disturbing, to see herself lying there, perfectly preserved in the Royal morgue as if waiting for a miracle to breathe warm life into her otherwise cold corpse. Suppressing a shudder, she turned back to Max, who was staring at her now as he held the hand of her corpse.
"Are you here to stay? With me?" Max asked, hopefully. Liz shook her head sadly.
"I can't."
"Why not?"
"You already know the answer," she said gently. "You told it to Isabel a million times when we thought Alex was dead."
Max sighed and looked towards the body on the bed. "I know. I just…miss you…"
"I know," Liz replied, caressing his face lightly with ethereal fingers. He looked up at her touch, locking eyes with a ghost. "I know you do. But you have to move on, Max."
"But Liz…"
"No. The Liz you knew is dead. She's lying on the bed in front of you with no breath, no life."
"But you're still here. You're talking to me right now…"
"But I'm not real. None of this is real, Max, and you have to let go. I'm dead, but you're not." She closed her eyes and breathed deeply, feeling non-existent tears rolling down her non-existent cheeks. "You still have a Destiny to fulfil, Max."
"My only Destiny is with you."
"It can't be, Max, you know that." She sighed, moving away from him and walking towards the door. Waving her hand over the red wood, she made the surface suddenly clear. Max could now see what was happening in the med-bay beyond. Bodies littered every square inch of the room, lying on the beds, sitting on the floor, standing against the walls. There were young men and old women and tiny children. Tall people, short people, fat people. It didn't matter what they looked like, for they all had the same expression on their faces.
Despair.
Worry.
But the scariest was the acceptance. The acceptance that they all would be dead within minutes and that there was no one that could help them. Each eye flitted towards the clock intermittently, subconsciously counting down to their own deaths.
"Those are your people, Max. They respect you. They look up to you. They love you, Max. You're their king, their leader. It's your Destiny to lead them."
"But what if I don't want that Destiny? What if I don't want to lead them, Liz? All I ever wanted was to have a normal life. A normal life with you."
"That can't happen, Max. And you can't fight your Destiny." She waved her hand over the door, returning it to its original state, before turning back to Max. "Whether you like it or not, you were born to rule these people, and I won't let you throw your birthright away like that." She stared at him seriously. "I saw what happened back there. How you treated that woman." Max at least had the decency to look ashamed. "You can't keep doing this. That's not the Max I know. The Max I know cares for everybody. He comforts those in pain and tries to help them. I know, because he's helped me before."
"And look where that got you," he muttered bitterly.
"You're not listening, Max. That doesn't matter now." She grabbed him by the chin and pointed towards the door. "They are what matter now. Your people are what matter."
Max stared at her for a few seconds before nodding slowly. "You're right. I have a duty to my people. They believe in me unconditionally and I should treat them with the same courtesy."
Liz grinned widely, proudly. "There's the Max I love."
And with that, she began to fade from view.
"Liz, wait!" Max exclaimed. "Will I see you again?"
"Probably not," she replied, her voice echoing as she became more and more transparent. "Goodbye, Max. I love you."
"I swear, I'll find a way to bring you back to life! You'll see! I won't let you down this time."
"It's too late."
And with those last words, she winked completely out of existence.
The darkness slid apart like elevator doors, opening into a blindingly bright baby blue room. Sharyan gestured for him to follow her as she walked into the room. When the doors closed behind them, she pressed her hand to the left wall, palm glowing white for a short second before she removed her hand. Michael raised his eyebrows in surprise as the room lurched, then started to move upwards.
"An elevator?"
"This will take us to the control room. From there, you will be able to perform your task," she explained, dully. He could tell that she wasn't happy about this.
Seconds later, the doors opened into another large room. This one had definite floors, walls and a ceiling, unlike the navy-blue room, and the elevator before it. The floor was covered in a plush, royal blue carpet, which stretched from one sky-blue wall to the other. The ceiling was painted midnight blue, with tiny white stars scattered across the surface, a scene similar to the one in the Granolith chamber. At the far end of the room, there was a huge screen that stretched across almost the entire wall. Beneath the screen was a small platform, with the picture of a silver handprint, surrounded by the Lythian star formation, and a table covered with different coloured buttons.
"This is the control room," Sharyan said, walking into the room. Michael stopped gaping and hurried to follow her as the elevator doors began to close on him. "Anything you want to do with the Granolith can be done from here. Over the years, Lythians have managed to tap into the Granolith's energy using a special crystal key. It has been used as transportation and power. However, only the keeper is allowed to enter here, and only the keeper can hone the Granolith's power and use it to the full extent of its potential." She turned to him, watching as he closed his eyes and breathed deeply, his senses stretching throughout the entire room. He was practically basking in the power that throbbed and pulsated in the room. "You can feel it, can't you?" He opened his eyes, looking at her. "The raw power. It touches you, as it did me many years ago."
Michael nodded his head in wonder, walking towards the control panel at the back of the room. The instant he touched it, it came to life, and all the buttons lit up. Then the walls started to shimmer, and a rich, emerald tone spread over the imaginary plaster, gradually changing the colour scheme from blue to green.
Sharyan grinned, happily. "It recognises you." Michael turned to his mother, eyebrow raised in question. "The Granolith adapts itself to its keeper's taste, so that you'll feel comfortable. Green must mean something to you. It always has, even since I first brought you here as a baby. It would always change to this beautiful shade of green." Michael smiled wistfully, thinking of Maria, but it soon faded into an unhappy frown. If this was as bad as Sharyan said it was, he was never going to see her again. "It was always blue for me," she continued, not noticing her son's expression. "It's the royal colour…" she trailed off, looking into the distance. "Your father had blue eyes…" Shaking her head, she returned to the task at hand. "You'll need to use the control panel to work the Granolith for now. When you are more advanced, all you'll need is the power of thought." Sharyan watched as he experimentally placed his right hand on the handprint, eyes widening in amazement as it glowed red. "Or perhaps you don't need it after all."
"I feel like…I know how this works." He moved his hand and turned to her. "…but I don't remember…"
"You were almost through your training when I had to send you away," she said, nodding. "It's not surprising that you remember, even if it might be subconscious on your part. Some of it's already engrained."
"But I was two when…"
"I sent you away, I know. Children in my family go through three years of silence after they're born. In that time, they are linked with the Granolith. The information needed to control it is loaded into the subconscious mind, where it is stored until that child becomes a keeper. In all actuality, you should have fifty percent of the information you need already." She sighed, somewhat sadly. "It won't take long for me to teach you."
Michael smiled at her, and then turned back to the control panel. "So, what do I have to do?"
She moved over to his side and pressed a series of buttons on the desk. The screen turned on, suddenly showing a small red planet, rotating in space. Antar. She turned back to him. "Are you sure you want to do this? It's not too late."
"I have to," he stated, quietly, yet firmly. Sharyan closed her eyes, as she felt tears threatening to fall, shaking her head.
"So determined," she muttered, fondly. "Then I wish you good luck," she said, pulling him into a hug. "And I pray you return to me." Sniffling, she ruffled his hair and kissed his forehead. "God, I don't even know what your name is now."
"It's Michael," he answered, soaking up the feeling of the mother he never had. The one he'd probably never see again. "Michael Guerin."
"Michael. That's lovely. Hopefully, we can talk more when you finish. I still have much to catch up on." She kissed his forehead again and gave him one last squeeze. "I love you, my baby boy." Pulling away, she gestured to the platform with the handprint. "All you need to do is touch the handprint and think of what you want to do. The Granolith should do the rest," she said, wiping her eyes. "I doubt you can do it all in one go, but, it should be enough to keep them alive for just a bit longer."
"Thank you," he said seriously. She nodded with a small smile as she stepped back and let him work.
Placing his hand on the handprint, Michael closed his eyes, summoning an image of the Antar of three days ago into his mind. The Antar that had just freed itself and was finally living after eleven years of oppression under Khivar's reign. The Antar that was ridiculously cold to every human, but was teeming with lively people. He pictured an Antar that lived.
In the depths of his mind, a proverbial switch was flipped. And suddenly…
…All went dark.
Isabel grunted with exertion as she struggled to push the heavy black cone into the portal. Extra strength or not, the Granolith was a total bitch to move.
"Kyle! Come here and help me!"
"Iz, just leave it! Michael will be safe in there."
"I…won't…leave…him," she ground out through clenched teeth. "Ugh!" With a final yell, she threw all of her strength and weight into pushing the huge cone forward…
Just then, the Granolith dissolved into a multitude of tiny, shimmering specks of light that circled around in its original cone shape like a mini tornado.
Isabel gasped as she pitched forward, the momentum from her effort to push the Granolith sending her sailing through the dissolved cone and straight into the portal.
Kyle paused for a second to gape as the tiny lights floated through the roof of the chamber before sprinting towards the portal and diving through.
Meanwhile, just outside of the chamber, Tess pushed her way through the hoard of Carnasian guards.
"Move!" she yelled, before kicking the door down. To the surprise of all the soldiers, it fell with little resistance. Tess stormed inside just in time to see the tips of Kyle's boots pass through the portal milliseconds before it swirled closed.
"Damn it!"
Alex writhed on the ground, still not entirely sure how it happened. One minute, he'd been attacking the most sadistic bastard he'd ever met, and the next, there was a burning fire in his thigh that sent him flying back into a wall and sliding down to the floor in pain. In hindsight, it was probably stupid of him to disregard Lindsey as just another regular human. Man, that guy was fast.
"You alright, mate?" Spike asked, kneeling next to him. It seemed that the evil pair had forgotten about him for the time being.
"I just got shot in the leg. Of course I'm alright," Alex muttered, sarcastically.
"War wasn't kind to you, was it?" Spike asked with a raised eyebrow.
"No kidding." Alex rolled his eyes. "Help me up." Spike nodded and pulled him up by the shoulders, cussing under his breath as the movement irritated his own wound. "What the hell are you doing here, anyway? Actually, don't bother. We don't have time to find out."
Alex ripped off the sleeve of his uniform and tied it around his leg. It didn't end the pain, but it stopped the bleeding enough for him to at least live through this fight. He gingerly tried putting weight on his aching limb, surveying the room from his new vantage point.
He was just in time to see Maria get thrown across the room by a strong right hook from Khivar. She slammed into Rath's dead body; tipping over the chair he was sitting in and smashing it into splinters. She didn't get up.
Faith was straddling Lindsey's chest, slamming her fists repeatedly into his face, but he didn't seem to be concerned. In fact, it looked like he was enjoying it, if the wide grin on his face was any indication.
Serena looked livid as Khivar walked closer to her, staring at her curiously.
"I know you from somewhere," he said, cocking his head to the side.
"You should, father," she spat.
Khivar smirked. "Still have your mother's spirit, I see," he said, closing the distance between them before she even had time to react. He stoked her cheek softly. "Have you come to join my side, Serena?"
She jerked away from his touch. "Never!" She swung her fist out, but he caught her wrist before it could make contact with his face. He quickly grasped the other one before she could retaliate.
"Dear child, what makes you think you have a choice?" He leaned in and whispered into her ear. "Your brother didn't."
Serena shrieked in rage as she struggled against his grip, but Khivar was too strong. He pressed her roughly up against the wall, shoving her so hard that her bones almost ground against the hard marble.
Spike suddenly sprinted to her side, pulling Khivar away and punching him in the jaw. Khivar looked amused as he tossed the vampire away with little more that a flick of his wrist. It seemed that not only Michael and Maria gained more strength with the prophecy. Khivar seemed to have a lot more power in his muscles than the average Carnasian.
And with that revelation, Alex knew that he couldn't take him on head-to-head and the only people who could were either incapacitated or just plain missing. Alex gritted his teeth in frustration. This was the first sign of an imminent defeat and he didn't like it. He wasn't going to let that happen.
Alex reached into the back of his pants and pulled out his gun, aiming at the wicked warlord. But just as his finger tightened around the trigger, he felt a sharp pain in the back of his head and fell to the ground with a dull thud. The last thing he saw before he blacked out was Faith being flung off Lindsey's chest and slamming through the window.
Tess re-holstered her gun as she stepped over Alex's body, smirking smugly. Khivar turned and smiled at her, still not releasing Serena.
"Have you secured the Granolith?" he asked. At her nervous look, his smiling eyes turned hard and cold, a dark glare shadowing his face.
"W-well…um…"
Khivar stormed angrily over to the small blonde, paying no mind to Serena, who'd just slumped to the floor, a groaning mass of bruises.
"Did you or did you not secure the Granolith, Tess?"
"K-Khivar…I kinda, um…no," she said, meekly. She could see his fists clench tightly at his side. His knuckles turned white, as if the blood there was fleeing from the anger that would most likely be released through his fists.
"You let them have the Granolith?" he bellowed.
"S-It wasn't my fault! Th-they were gone b-before I got there, Khivar, I swear. I-it wasn't my fault," she pleaded. Her blue eyes widened as he wrapped his hand around her throat, lifting her off the ground effortlessly by the head. "P-please…d-don't…"
"Don't what, little girl?" he asked, menacingly. "Don't kill you? You want me to spare your life? For what reason would I do such a thing?"
"P-please…m-my son…"
"Your son," he echoed scornfully. "Zan. He is of absolutely no use to me. His life is worth nothing." He smirked as if he just thought of something. "I shall enjoy killing him."
"No! No please," she begged.
His eyes narrowed. "You bore me now."
And faster than Tess could blink, he brought his other hand up to her head and jerked her skull suddenly to the right, snapping her neck as if it were nothing more than a rotted toothpick.
Khivar watched dispassionately as Tess' body slumped to the ground, a dead pile of flesh, before turning back to his daughter.
"Now, where were we?"
A groan escaped her lips as she stirred from her prone position on the soft dirt outside the Carnasian palace. The sun beat down on her face, warming the scratched skin. Every single bone and joint, and…pretty much all of the categories of body parts she could possibly have ached.
"Note to self," she muttered under her breath as she awkwardly rolled onto her back. "The window is not the door's silent cousin."
She squinted her eyes as she peered upwards, past the blindingly bright blue sun, to the purple sky of Carnath. A flock of oddly coloured birds flew overhead in a triangular formation, similar to that of birds on Earth. Her brow furrowed as they suddenly stopped above the palace and circled around a certain spot, creating a spinning spiral of sorts with their little bodies. Pulling herself off the ground, she raised a hand to shade her eyes from the sun as she watched them.
She could now make out tiny white lights, like stars in a shimmering tornado, rising out of the palace roof, the birds leading it through the purple sky like special escorts.
"Weird," she murmured to herself as she refocused her eyes on the window that she had just fallen through.
And a sudden surge of anger flooded through her veins as she saw a shadow pass the open hole in the marble wall.
Khivar.
With an angry snarl on her lips, she clenched her fists at her sides, ignoring the hollow crack her knuckles made, and stormed to the side doors of the palace.
She would kill that bastard if it was the last thing she did.
"You know, I never wanted a daughter," he started, pacing in front of Serena with his hands clasped behind his back. Serena rolled her eyes. She could tell she was in for another of Khivar's self-indulgent soliloquies.
"Is that supposed to hurt me?" she asked.
Khivar went on as if she hadn't said anything. "No, girls are too much trouble. Much, much more than they're worth. I grew up seeing it. My mother, my whining brat of a sister. They sucked the life out of my father's body with their undue stresses, until he died a withered old man with nothing left of his mind but the senseless gibberish of a crazy man. They were the banes of my entire childhood." He crouched down in front of her. She still hadn't found the strength to stand up, and could do nothing but lie in his shadow, listening to his every word. He smirked. "Even your mother was a worthless addition to the gene pool."
"Don't speak of my mother that way. You don't have the right," she sneered.
"Don't I? She was my wife for eight years, was she not? I put up with her crap for that long without killing her wretched self, I think I have a right to speak of her as I wish."
Serena looked away from her father, instead switching her gaze to her brother, who stood silently behind him, watching her curiously. "Lindsey, how could you join him? How can you fight by his side after what he did to us? To Mom?"
"He's my father," Lindsey answered simply. He narrowed his eyes at her. "You are not someone I remember. He's my family."
"I'm your family, too, Lindsey," Serena said. "Don't you remember? I'm your sister. Your twin."
Lindsey winced as a sudden memory flashed through his brain…
Two teenagers crouched in a corner, the shadows from the bleachers casting black lines over their faces as they panted for breath. The small brunette girl turned towards the boy and grinned reassuringly at him. The tanned skin around her eye was already turning red from the punch she'd taken in the face, and she sported the bruise proudly. The boy frowned at her.
"What the hell are you doing?" he whispered harshly, grabbing her arm roughly.
"Saving your ass, what's it look like? Now shush, they'll hear us," she said, rolling her eyes. She ducked back into the shadows as half the football team passed by the bleachers. "What'd you do to get 'em so pissed, anyway?"
"Slept with Anderson's girlfriend," he said, nonchalantly. She scoffed, leaning up to peer through the bleachers again as the angry mob moved further along. "Serena."
She turned. "What?"
"Why the hell'd you jump into the fight? They could've killed you," he scolded.
She smiled at him. "Us twins have to stick together, right?" she said, holding out her pinkie finger to him.
He grinned and nodded; joining their pinkies in a handshake they'd been doing for the past fifteen years. "Always."
Lindsey blinked at her, his brow furrowing. "I-I don't have a sister," he insisted, eyes flicking between them in confusion.
"That's right, son," Khivar said. "I would never punish you with one. This…woman is nothing but a liar who wishes only for you to spare her worthless life."
Lindsey nodded, his confused expression settling into a calmed smirk, seemingly appeased by his father's explanation.
"Lindsey, you can't believe him. You know me," Serena pleaded. "H-he did something to your memory, but deep down you know me." She shifted, so that she was higher up on the wall. "You can feel me, I know you can, just…try, Lindsey, remember."
Lindsey blinked and grabbed his head as a searing pain suddenly sliced through his head, and blurred images flashed before his mind's eyes…
'Lindsey!' He could hear the voice calling to him, though he was pretty sure it wasn't out loud, since he couldn't hear a thing besides his own screams. He didn't have a clue where he was because he couldn't see anything beyond the images flashing behind his eyelids. He flinched away from the hand that landed on his shoulder, instinctively backing away from the unseen phantom, his screams replaced with pathetic whimpers.
"Lindsey, honey, please. Tell me what's wrong." He could faintly hear a voice pleading from somewhere to his right. It wasn't the same voice from inside his head. This one sounded older, but he couldn't focus on anything except the memories in his head. "Kyden, is this normal? This can't be normal."
A deep voice answered her from far off. "It's just a natural process in his development, Celeste. Just another annoying part of my family trait." There were some footsteps, and then the male voice got louder, like he came closer. "I'm sure he'll stop soon." Just the feel of the man near him sent shivers down his spine, and another memory spiralling out of the hole he'd buried it in.
A blonde woman hung limply by the wrists in the middle of the room. The tips of her toes dragged along the floor as she swung back and forth from the force of the blows to her back. Dark red blood soaked through her torn, white gown.
For hours it seemed, he sat there, watching as his father flung a thick leather strap at her back with a sickening crack, listening as she sobbed in pain.
"Did you think you could get away with stealing the Granolith?" He cracked the whip against her tattered flesh again. "Its power is mine and mine alone to control." She screamed as the thick leather opened another bloody groove in her back. "Your pathetic son was never strong enough to possess such power." Lindsey flinched as there was another crack of the whip against her back. Kyden walked to the front of her body, lightly caressing her skin with the thick leather, wrapping the whip around her neck. "Now tell me where he is so that I may end his existence before he has the chance to live through another pathetic lifetime." He pulled on the whip, making her gasp as he cut off her air supply. "Hmm?"
Lindsey screamed again, scrambling away from the man…from his father. "No! No! Stop hurting the lady! Don't hurt the lady!" He pushed himself to his feet and stumbled into the bathroom, locking the door behind him.
Kyden scowled at the closed door, folding his arms over his chest, annoyed that his son was so weak. How would he help him rule his empire if he couldn't even handle the torture of an enemy?
Serena walked over to the bathroom door, pressing her ear against the white wood, and closing her eyes in concentration. 'Lindsey!'
Khivar glared down at his daughter, oblivious to, or perhaps ignoring, his son's plight. He was confident in the fact that Lindsey wouldn't turn on him, not after the job he'd done on his mind, so all his attention was fixed on the traitor that came from his own flesh and blood.
"I always suspected that you were a waste of flesh," he murmured, crouching down beside her and running a hand through her hair. "If I'd known you existed before you were born, I would have killed you before Celeste even noticed you were gone." He smirked at her. "Well, she's not here to stop me now." He glanced around the room at her unconscious teammates. "And neither are any of your useless friends." Suddenly, he wrapped his hand around her neck and lifted her off the ground. "Pity."
Serena kicked and struggled as he squeezed on her neck, cutting off her air supply. Screwing her eyes shut, she made one last vain attempt at getting help from Khivar's second-in-command with a connection she hadn't used in at least ten years. 'Lindsey! Help me! Please!'
Khivar chuckled as his daughter's head started to turn blue and her struggling slowed as her life gradually ebbed from her body.
"The satisfaction in this is almost as great as when I killed that wretched sister of mine. Imagine the rush I'd get from killing your worthless mo-"
Khivar's voice was cut off as he felt a searing pain through his chest. Eyes widening in shock, he dropped Serena and turned his head to see his attacker…
…And Lindsey stood there, a small knife poised in his hand, still dripping with thick, red blood. His blood.
"You," Khivar snarled as he lunged at him in anger. Lindsey easily shoved him back, sending him tumbling to the floor.
Khivar growled as he pushed himself to his feet, anger flooding his entire being. "You disappoint me, boy," he said, glaring at his son as he discreetly reached for the gun buried in a hidden pocket in the back of his pants.
"Nothin' makes me feel better, Dad," Lindsey spat, stepping closer to him with the knife.
Khivar smirked. "Too bad." In a flash, he drew his gun forward and aimed it at Lindsey's head…
…and suddenly there was a loud bang as a bullet coursed through the air…
…and lodged itself in Khivar's neck.
He looked up, dropping his gun as he grabbed at the gaping wound in his neck in shock, his face contorted in a mixture of disbelief anger, and pain. The face of his killer was the last thing he saw before he stumbled backwards and fell out of the broken window behind him.
Across the way, under a tree in the palace gardens, a furry, brown werewolf was jolted out of sleep by a loud, resounding thump reverberating through the warm soil of the palace grounds. With a wide yawn, he wandered over and looked in interest at the new body that graced his feeding ground.
If he had lips, he would be grinning.
After all, every creature deserves desert after a good meal, right?