Sig's ears perked up almost immediately when he heard a low, slithering
voice answer his cry from behind him. He looked around warily.
Sig: Who-who-who's t-t-there?
The voice answered again; so eerie, and so cold...
Voice 1: Mooooonnnnchhhhhiiiillllld.............
Voice 2: Soooooonnnn offff Kkkkkorrr..........
Sig: W-w-w-whoooo???
It hissed again, its voice dripping with a malice as cold as frigid steel...
Voice 1: Feeeeaaarrrr noot your brrrrreeethren, Moonchild.
Voice 3: Wwwweeee arrre heree....Don't be afffffrrrrraiddddd.....
Voice 2: Sttttttaaayyyyy, don't rrrrrrrunnn....come, come and playyyyyy......
Sig shivered even more and he looked around. His legs were all frozen with fright, and his body was shaking so hard he found it difficult to talk properly.
Sig: Whoo are you??? Are you here to help me?
Voice 4: (Laughs quietly) Ohhhhh, chilllddd....yes, yes we've come to hhhhhelllppp....
Voice 1: Help, indeeeeeedddd!
Sig saw something move against the faint white light of the landscape. He let in a shuddering gasp when he found out what was speaking to him.
They were the most sinister looking creatures he had ever seen in his life. They looked animal, but there were human appeareances on them as well. They walked on all fours, with dark blue skin and long evil, black claws on each large, three fingered paw. They wore metal armour, but Sig had a terrible feeling that those pieces of metal were attached to them somehow. They grinned at him with devilish, fang-filled grins, and a strange golden gem- like object shone on their metal-covered foreheads. It shone very brightly, but not nearly as brightly as their evil, pupiless yellow eyes.....
Sig: W-wh-who are you???
Voice 1: Weeeee arrrreee your frrrrrriends.....come, come and playyyyyy wiiiithh ussss.....
His body screamed for him to run, and this time Sig finally found the proper energy too. He leaped from his prone position and ran as fast as his legs could carry him, heart thumping faster than it ever did in his whole life...
He heard heavy beats of running feet behind him and this made Sig feel sick and horrified inside. They were gaining on him!!
Sig ran faster, sprinting forwards. But then suddenly his foot caught a wary stone and he fell flying forwards, landing on the hard, unforgiving ground and unspared from several cuts that cut deep into his delicate skin...
Sig tried to get up, but before he could one of those terrible creatures managed to catch up to him and corner him down to the ground, roaring so close to his ear that it hurt. He stared into the mad, emptiness of its evil yellow eyes, suddenly lost in a sea of blinding white inferno......
But then suddenly there was a loud, angry shout from above and the white inferno disappeared almost immediately as something large and fierce knocked away Sig's would-be murderer. Sig looked up and gasped loudly.
Sig: FATHER!!!
It was true-Sig knew this was his father, but almost didn't recognize him at all. This wasn;t the Dante he had always known at home, the Dante who sang songs, told stories and laughed aloud during dinner; THIS Dante was angry, dark and filled with a boiling rage that frightened Sig to the core.
Sig: Father!
S. Dante: Sig! Stand back!!
The creatures roared hatefully at Dante, but he stood firm and pointed his spear threateningly at them, defending his only son. Sig saw more of those horrible creatures coming, hearing their haunting voices cry out loud, "CURSED MOONSON! UNLOYAL BASTARD! BROTHER-SLAYER! FATHER-TRAITOR!!"
S. Dante: Stay away from my son!!
Voices: BROTHER-SSSSLAYYER! YOU BARRE NO SSSSHAMMME!! YOU DISSSHONOR THE NAMME OF THE HURRRRAAA-QUUAN!! FATHER-TRAITOR!
S. Dante: Back!!
Voices: SSSSTAANND ASIDE, BASTARD MOON-SON! Forrrrr alll those that youuu killed, yoourrr own brotherrrsss and sissssters and thierrr children, DIE NOWW!!!
The creatures lunged forward, but Dante stabbed his sharp-spearhead into the throat of the first one that approached. He swung the deadly weapon around, whacking the devils back, away from his son.....
Sig watched horrified as his father struggled to keep the creatures at bay. But as more and more fell beneath his wrath, several more came to avenge their brothers. They leaped into a crazed fray, their jaws dripping with spit and Dante's blood....
Sig thought that his father was going to end there, until suddenly he realized something bizarre happening to his father. His mouth opened into a silent scream when he suddenly realized that it was nothing good.
Sig's eyes nearly popped out of his sockets when he realized that his father's eyes were glowing brightly, and had turned all white. All his limbs shook in an uncanny way, and his mouth was tight into a twisted, animal snarl. Sig saw his clothes tear, and gaped at the newly formed metal armour that grew on his arms, legs, chest, back and head. Spines ran along his back like sharp spikes of death. His head lenghtened inhumanly, forming a broad, wolf-like face. And on his forehead was the same glowing yellow gem Sig saw on those horrible creatures that were attacking them......
A blood-chilling howl came from Dante's fanged maw, filling Sig's shocked ears and drowing him into a fear so great Sig thought he would faint. But he wanted to faint; he really , really did. He wanted to close his eyes, to run away home and safely into Juliana's arms. But no; he couldn't run and his eyes refused to shut, forcing him to continue watching this death- defying fight.
The creatures seemed crazed at the sight of this newly transformed monster.
Metalheads (I'm sick of calling them 'voices'): DAMNED MOONSON! DAMNED TRAITOR!! DIE! DIE! DIE!!
Dante roared back, his maw larger and more fang filled than any of his smaller opponents. The giant monster lunged for them all, his powerful arms drawn back to deliver a brutal slash that sent nearly half of the Metalheads flying into the air. He smashed full-force into the screaming fray of metal and skin, grabbing one completely in his jaws and tearing it to bits with such ease Sig was horrified. Blood stained the dusty ground a gruesome crimson, making the fight look even more morbid than it really is...
Sig wanted to deny it. This monster, this mindless killing machine...could it really be his own father? And from what he heard from those Metalheads, Dante was like a brother to them...what did it all mean? Sig shuddered. No, it couldn't. It just couldn't.
It seemed like forever that the fight went on, and soon enough Sig saw the huge monster his father had become begin to tire. His limbs shook with fatigue, and his jaws no longer held its victims with its usual crushing grip. The Metalheads, squealing with delight on seeing this, dove in mercilessly for the kill.
Sig closed his eyes tightly with fear.
There were the most horrible sounds he had ever heard. Something dripped onto his forhead, and Sig was sure it must be blood. There was a loud roar, then a few sharp unearthly shrieks. Then, in just two minutes, there was complete silence.
Sig didn't hear anything but the own frantic beating of his heart. His eyes were still shut, and his trembling did not cease. Though he was glad the fight sounded like it were over, the silence was daunting and it wasn't comforting at all.
Praying silently, Sig slowly opened his eyes.
His heart skipped two beats when he saw what was in front of him. Heaps upon heaps of Metalhead corpses littered the dusty ground in front of him, their bodies savagely torn apart. Their metal armour, ripped brutally from their living forms, lay in bloody pieces with bits of blue flesh still clinging on their edges. The stench of opened gut filled the air, gagging young Sigfried.
And standing in all the ruin was the still beastly Dante.
Sig watched, petrified, as the monster breathed deeply and slowly in front of him. Blood dripped down its damaged metal covered skin and joined the rest on the crimson stained gound. But as he breathed, Sig could see human skin returning, and he was decreasing slowly in height. But before he could fully transform back to himself, Dante fell to his side onto the ground.
Sig: Father!
Sig ran up to him, but reeled back at the sight of the still sharp spines on his back. The claws didn't disappear yet, and neither did all the armour. Sig listened to his father's soft moans and gasps, eyes on his rising and falling back. But then suddenly, he fell horribly still.
Sig: F-father?
No response, but Sig still didn't have the courage to approach him. The beastly metal armour, claws and spines remained on his still body, and this worried Sig even more. Why wasn't his father moving? Why isn't he changing back?
Sig: Father?
He called out to Dante again in a more quiet and shaken voice. He took a step forwards, then reached out for his father's still and slack shoulders. The skin felt warm, but it felt so empty, so soulless...it was nothing the way it felt whenever Sig hugged him.
Sig: (Lips quivering) Father? W-w-wake up!
But Dante didn't wake up, and for one moment Sig feared that he never will. He wanted to call for help, but his voice was stuck in his throat, held back by fear. Tears sprang to his green eyes, filled with a pain he can't describe. He had never felt so alone, so frightened.......
Later that night, only silent sobs penetrated the ghostly silence of the Wasteland. Sig fell asleep on the dusty ground after hours of unheard weeping. It was only at late dawn the next day he was discovered by Dante's comrades, the other Surface Sentinels.
Imagine their surprise when they discovered young Sigfried among the death and decay that surrounded them. Hardly believing the sight, they took him, still sleeping, away to their camp to be brought back to the safety of the Metamorphagan city. After making sure that the young child was safe, they returned and retrieved Dante's still half-transformed body.
Sig was awake when they carried out the funeral that night. Silently he watched them as they burnt the body, looking at the grey smoke as it rose high into the velvet black sky. From the medic tent he slept in, Sig could hear the Sentinels say:
Sentinel 1: May you be at peace among the stars, my friend.
Sentinel 2: If only we knew he had departed we couldn've saved him...
Sent. 1: He didn't even have the chance to change back either, the poor soul....
Sent.2: I still can't imagine though how his young son managed to find his way here...
Sentinel 1: Who?
Sent. 2: You know....young Sigfried?
Natheniel (That's Sent.1): Oh, that child we rescued. I'm not sure myself, Zephon...
Zephon: You didn't think he—saw Dante change, did you? I mean, he's only five. It might be a little too much for him to know that we—well—you know what I mean.
Natheniel: You're right there. But what's the big deal? Those kids will have to find out sooner or later that they can change and all. The worst thing it can do to him is give him nightmares.
Zephon: That's not my point, Nat. You know what the Circle told us all: never tell your children about this changing thing until they are at least about fourteen. Sigfried's seen two things that are just too much for his age yesterday; I'm rather worried about him.
Natheniel: The child will be fine.
Zephon: He saw his father die in front of him, Nat. What's so all right about that?
Natheniel: We'll leave all this to his mother, all right, Zeph? Don't let these things concern you for the moment; we've gor our own things to worry about. Dante won't be the only one dying in this war with the kind of weapons we fight with....
Zephon: (With a bit of revulsion) Yeah. I can't believe it. While mortals advance with their arsenal, we remain with these obselete standard assault rifles and spears. Nothing more.
Natheniel: Heard the latest news? Turel attempted to go Raven and the Pales and ask for some weaponary.
Zephon: Turel? And the Pales? Huh, the poor fool; he's not going to get anything from that stingy lot. I see now how desperate we are, eversince those idiots from Haven City rejected our every try. Mind you, Haven City is like MILES from here.
Natheniel: I wouldn't set foot into that horrible place with the kind of rules it has there; with or without their so-called protective security walls.
Zephon: Don't forget, bud, that we can't get an inch close to those walls, since we're part Metalhead and all. Take my experience with my troop some weeks ago; we had to smuggle through a hell-hole of a sewer to get in. (Shudders) Honestly, if you gave me a choice in between living in Haven City or whopping up some Hura-Quan ass, I'd take my chances with their leader anytime!
The rest of the conversation wasn't important to Sig, so he went back to his little cot and stayed there; staring at the canvas ceiling of the medic tent. Flashes of last night's happening swirled relentlessly in his mind, wiping innocent and naïve thoughts and filling them instead with a burning pain and sadness. His father was dead. He finally realized where and what he was truly doing, and he knew that this night will haunt him forever in many years to come. This horrible scar in his memory, this haunting inseen wound in his young mind brought large tears welling in his pain-filled green eyes. Despair cloaked him.
And then suddenly, he was angry.
Sig never thought that he would hate anything more in his whole life than those Metalheads that had attacked him yesterday night. He hated them more than Brutus or all those other horrible kids at his school. The hate carved itself onto the child's young heart, penetrating deep blood and settling itself within his soul. But the worst of all, he can't deny it now, was the fact that his father had been one of their fetid kind.
Sig just couldn't believe it. His father, his brave and noble father, was truly a Metalhead within. He had heard it from the Metalheads clearly, and he had Zephon and Natheniel's words to prove this horrible truth. Even more disturbing, was that if all this is really true, then that will mean that he was a Metalhead as well.
Sig felt tears stain his chubby little cheek and he pressed Poopsie's soft, squeaky body. He remembered the smell of death and blood, and the burning, insane and inhuman light he saw come from Dante's eyes when the Metalhead inside him emerged. From what Zephon and Natheniel said, Sig knew that all those people he knew in the Metamorphagan City, Proteus, Fenris—his MOTHER—are Metalheads. The very thought of it made his feel sick and shaky all over.
Its not because Sig was ungrateful for Dante's sacrifice or anything. He was more than thankful to be alive, but the burning betrayal of last night's discovery seemed too great to ignore. The more he thought about it, the killing and and the dying, the more the hatred and the feeling of treason sank a thousand fathoms deeper into his soul.
Sig felt helpless, and more tears ran down his face. Tomorrow he will return home. What will happen to him there? Now that he knew the truth about his people, would everything go as it usually did? Would he still feel the same about Proteus and Fenris? He didn't know. He didn't want to know.
He fell asleep late that night, weary after hours of thinking and swirling emotions that were too much for him to fully understand. He awoke early the next day though, and the Sentinels took him home to the Metamorphagan city, unaware that the little child they escorted had become a changed person overnight.
Life for Sigfried will never ever be the same again.
*
YEARS LATER-
The moon rose high into the darkening sky, sinisterly bright. There were no stars in the huge dome of eternal black; nothing but that huge white glowing sphere that shone stark naked among the black velvet of the night........
Voices screamed all around him, drowning him in their mind-tearing curses. A burning rage burned inside him, and pain travelled in his veins to every single muscle it came across. That pain turned into rage, and tore lose within him, cloaking him in a sea of angry crimson. And through the blinding whiteness he saw through his eyes, he spotted the little form of a five-year old child cowering, petrified and defenceless, at his feet.
Behind him were voices, metallic and frigid, crying,"KILL! KILL! KILL THE MORTAL-HALF! KILL THE MORTAL SOUL!! DEVOUR HIM! DESTROY HIM!
The screaming urged him on, and hot breath poured out of his huge, fang- filled maws. He went up to the child.....
KILL HIM! KILL HIM! BE ONE OF US! BE OUR BLOOD BROTHER!!!!! BE A HURA- QUAN!!!
Hura-Quan. Hura-Quan. Hura-Quan. The voices chanted, like the hostile drumbeats of war, spurring him on to complete his unspeakable deed. The child stared at him with a face so pale he looked ghostly. His tiny heart beat along with the demonic chanting, and pure horror came to his large green eyes as he raised his large, clawed arm to strike.......
And then suddenly Sigfried woke up.
The first thing he felt was the wet material of his pillow at the back of his head, which was no doubt soaked by sweat. Heavy breathing expelled itself roughly out of his mouth and nose, and his chest rose rapidly. Inside, he felt his heart race.
Sig shot up to a sitting position, hands over his brown face, fingernails through his shoulder-length hair and digging into his scalp. He felt his whole body shake, his very skeleton trembling inside.
This was the third night this happen. The third night. Why must he remember it now? Why must this unholy memory present itself at this kind of time?
Sig was now 18 years old, no longer the little, naïve child he used to be. Though all those years of other petty school experiences distracted him from his ordeal, the night when his father died refused to be forgotten. It haunted him until now, as fixed as a vengeance.
Eversince that night, he didn't talk, played or laughed as much as he usually did. With every person he met he knew he was actually looking at a Metalhead—and everytime he looked at the mirror, at himself-well-that was a different story..........
It was already set in his core. He HATED Metalheads. He HATED them so much. He hated them for what they were, hated them for what they were doing to his people.......and mostly hated them for being a part of HIM.
Sig sighed deeply, hands unmoved from his face. He had vowed that he will never, ever turn to his beastly, Metalhead half. It was a stupid thing to think about to some people. I mean, it's been fifteen years. Get over it, some would say. But what do they know? They didn't know the level of his hatred and sense of betrayal he felt within. They didn't see thier father being torn apart or die in front of them; being killed by his own cousins.........
Sig put his hands down and stared at his feet across the bed, gazing upwards and looking beyond his toes to his bedroom door. He could hear the sound of pots and dishes clanking and clinking, and the usual sound of an oxen door being closed. Mother had finished her baking, and he knew it was time to get up.
At the breakfast table he was greeted by the usual sight; table laden with breakfast and yakow milk. His mother, now older with a few wrinkles, smiled at him as he put the newly baked bread onto the table.
Juliana: Good morning, Sigfried.
Sig: (Smiling rather falsely) Good morning, mother.
His tone was that of forced gaiety. He had never told his own mother about his deep personal feelings. The Sentinels had lied to Juliana about Sig for her own sake. They told her about Dante's death, yes, but they didn't tell her that Sig had actually seen how he died. They simply said they found him lost in the Metamorphagan city when they returned to collect provisions. Though that sent her close to collasping, it was good enough. The truth would kill her.
So assuming that Sig was as innocent as ever, she acted as if nothing really happened. Sig played along, hiding the truth and the pain behind a cheery smile and shaky laugh. Juliana never suspected anything, so it was easy.
Sig politely finished his breakfast and walked off into the direction of his school; a small college situated down close to the mines at the bottom of the city. He didn't bring his textbooks or anything today. Today isn't going to be like all other school days. Today was ,'special'
Suddenly-
****: Hey! Sigfried!
Sig turned around and saw a tall young man about his age run up to him, his long brown haor flying behind him as he streaked swiftly across the college compound. He was tall and slim, elegant in some way and dressed in very sophisticated looking blue garments.
Sig: (Smiling) Proteus!
Proteus: Where have you been? You were horribly late; I've been looking all over for you.
Sig: Why the fancy stuff?
Proteus: Oh—my mother. She insists that I wear it for the occasion.
Sig wasn;t surprised. Proteus's mother was a respected principal of one of the few schools in the Metamorphagan City.
Sig: What's the big occasion about again?
Proteus: (Beginning to sound poetic) Today is the day where we all young bloods set asunder our once naïve and childish life and start forth a new course in life-
Sig: Speak English, Pro. Proteus: Urgh. Ok, so today we're going to give up our lives to one pure devotion: whether to become Metafor or a Peacemaker.
The Metafores. Sig shuddered slightly. This was the name given to Metamorphagans who chose to learn about their beastly halves and learn how to use and control it. It can be a dangerous choice, for training to control such a lethal inner beast can be quite difficult. The Peacemaker however, is devoid of all these beast-control training; but that doesn't mean that they can't transform. Every Metamorphagan in the city will eventually have to chose their own paths when they came of suitable age.
But way before Sig knew about this, he had already made up his mind.
Proteus: I've almost fized my hair off trying to come up with a real choice. Eitherway, my mother says it's my choice so---I guess I'm going to end up Peacemaker. What about you, Sig?
Sig: (Quickly) Peacemaker.
Proteus: Didn't take you long to decide, eh?
Sig: (Half-sarcastically) Not at all.
Proteus: I've heard that Fenris is going for Metafor.
Sig: (Sighing) He should, I suppose. I mean, he is a scout Sentinel and he's doing pretty well as our Youth Leader and all....
Protues: Hurry now, or we'll be late for the ceremony.
Sig followed Protues into the small academy and looked around warily for the school's reaction about the ceremony. Like he had expected, nearly all of them were excited. He caught several boasts as well, hearing them brag about their beastly powers and how they were going to use them. Sig was disgusted; they didn't know the true meaning of power and murder unless they have seen it before their own eyes.
Sig: Who-who-who's t-t-there?
The voice answered again; so eerie, and so cold...
Voice 1: Mooooonnnnchhhhhiiiillllld.............
Voice 2: Soooooonnnn offff Kkkkkorrr..........
Sig: W-w-w-whoooo???
It hissed again, its voice dripping with a malice as cold as frigid steel...
Voice 1: Feeeeaaarrrr noot your brrrrreeethren, Moonchild.
Voice 3: Wwwweeee arrre heree....Don't be afffffrrrrraiddddd.....
Voice 2: Sttttttaaayyyyy, don't rrrrrrrunnn....come, come and playyyyyy......
Sig shivered even more and he looked around. His legs were all frozen with fright, and his body was shaking so hard he found it difficult to talk properly.
Sig: Whoo are you??? Are you here to help me?
Voice 4: (Laughs quietly) Ohhhhh, chilllddd....yes, yes we've come to hhhhhelllppp....
Voice 1: Help, indeeeeeedddd!
Sig saw something move against the faint white light of the landscape. He let in a shuddering gasp when he found out what was speaking to him.
They were the most sinister looking creatures he had ever seen in his life. They looked animal, but there were human appeareances on them as well. They walked on all fours, with dark blue skin and long evil, black claws on each large, three fingered paw. They wore metal armour, but Sig had a terrible feeling that those pieces of metal were attached to them somehow. They grinned at him with devilish, fang-filled grins, and a strange golden gem- like object shone on their metal-covered foreheads. It shone very brightly, but not nearly as brightly as their evil, pupiless yellow eyes.....
Sig: W-wh-who are you???
Voice 1: Weeeee arrrreee your frrrrrriends.....come, come and playyyyyy wiiiithh ussss.....
His body screamed for him to run, and this time Sig finally found the proper energy too. He leaped from his prone position and ran as fast as his legs could carry him, heart thumping faster than it ever did in his whole life...
He heard heavy beats of running feet behind him and this made Sig feel sick and horrified inside. They were gaining on him!!
Sig ran faster, sprinting forwards. But then suddenly his foot caught a wary stone and he fell flying forwards, landing on the hard, unforgiving ground and unspared from several cuts that cut deep into his delicate skin...
Sig tried to get up, but before he could one of those terrible creatures managed to catch up to him and corner him down to the ground, roaring so close to his ear that it hurt. He stared into the mad, emptiness of its evil yellow eyes, suddenly lost in a sea of blinding white inferno......
But then suddenly there was a loud, angry shout from above and the white inferno disappeared almost immediately as something large and fierce knocked away Sig's would-be murderer. Sig looked up and gasped loudly.
Sig: FATHER!!!
It was true-Sig knew this was his father, but almost didn't recognize him at all. This wasn;t the Dante he had always known at home, the Dante who sang songs, told stories and laughed aloud during dinner; THIS Dante was angry, dark and filled with a boiling rage that frightened Sig to the core.
Sig: Father!
S. Dante: Sig! Stand back!!
The creatures roared hatefully at Dante, but he stood firm and pointed his spear threateningly at them, defending his only son. Sig saw more of those horrible creatures coming, hearing their haunting voices cry out loud, "CURSED MOONSON! UNLOYAL BASTARD! BROTHER-SLAYER! FATHER-TRAITOR!!"
S. Dante: Stay away from my son!!
Voices: BROTHER-SSSSLAYYER! YOU BARRE NO SSSSHAMMME!! YOU DISSSHONOR THE NAMME OF THE HURRRRAAA-QUUAN!! FATHER-TRAITOR!
S. Dante: Back!!
Voices: SSSSTAANND ASIDE, BASTARD MOON-SON! Forrrrr alll those that youuu killed, yoourrr own brotherrrsss and sissssters and thierrr children, DIE NOWW!!!
The creatures lunged forward, but Dante stabbed his sharp-spearhead into the throat of the first one that approached. He swung the deadly weapon around, whacking the devils back, away from his son.....
Sig watched horrified as his father struggled to keep the creatures at bay. But as more and more fell beneath his wrath, several more came to avenge their brothers. They leaped into a crazed fray, their jaws dripping with spit and Dante's blood....
Sig thought that his father was going to end there, until suddenly he realized something bizarre happening to his father. His mouth opened into a silent scream when he suddenly realized that it was nothing good.
Sig's eyes nearly popped out of his sockets when he realized that his father's eyes were glowing brightly, and had turned all white. All his limbs shook in an uncanny way, and his mouth was tight into a twisted, animal snarl. Sig saw his clothes tear, and gaped at the newly formed metal armour that grew on his arms, legs, chest, back and head. Spines ran along his back like sharp spikes of death. His head lenghtened inhumanly, forming a broad, wolf-like face. And on his forehead was the same glowing yellow gem Sig saw on those horrible creatures that were attacking them......
A blood-chilling howl came from Dante's fanged maw, filling Sig's shocked ears and drowing him into a fear so great Sig thought he would faint. But he wanted to faint; he really , really did. He wanted to close his eyes, to run away home and safely into Juliana's arms. But no; he couldn't run and his eyes refused to shut, forcing him to continue watching this death- defying fight.
The creatures seemed crazed at the sight of this newly transformed monster.
Metalheads (I'm sick of calling them 'voices'): DAMNED MOONSON! DAMNED TRAITOR!! DIE! DIE! DIE!!
Dante roared back, his maw larger and more fang filled than any of his smaller opponents. The giant monster lunged for them all, his powerful arms drawn back to deliver a brutal slash that sent nearly half of the Metalheads flying into the air. He smashed full-force into the screaming fray of metal and skin, grabbing one completely in his jaws and tearing it to bits with such ease Sig was horrified. Blood stained the dusty ground a gruesome crimson, making the fight look even more morbid than it really is...
Sig wanted to deny it. This monster, this mindless killing machine...could it really be his own father? And from what he heard from those Metalheads, Dante was like a brother to them...what did it all mean? Sig shuddered. No, it couldn't. It just couldn't.
It seemed like forever that the fight went on, and soon enough Sig saw the huge monster his father had become begin to tire. His limbs shook with fatigue, and his jaws no longer held its victims with its usual crushing grip. The Metalheads, squealing with delight on seeing this, dove in mercilessly for the kill.
Sig closed his eyes tightly with fear.
There were the most horrible sounds he had ever heard. Something dripped onto his forhead, and Sig was sure it must be blood. There was a loud roar, then a few sharp unearthly shrieks. Then, in just two minutes, there was complete silence.
Sig didn't hear anything but the own frantic beating of his heart. His eyes were still shut, and his trembling did not cease. Though he was glad the fight sounded like it were over, the silence was daunting and it wasn't comforting at all.
Praying silently, Sig slowly opened his eyes.
His heart skipped two beats when he saw what was in front of him. Heaps upon heaps of Metalhead corpses littered the dusty ground in front of him, their bodies savagely torn apart. Their metal armour, ripped brutally from their living forms, lay in bloody pieces with bits of blue flesh still clinging on their edges. The stench of opened gut filled the air, gagging young Sigfried.
And standing in all the ruin was the still beastly Dante.
Sig watched, petrified, as the monster breathed deeply and slowly in front of him. Blood dripped down its damaged metal covered skin and joined the rest on the crimson stained gound. But as he breathed, Sig could see human skin returning, and he was decreasing slowly in height. But before he could fully transform back to himself, Dante fell to his side onto the ground.
Sig: Father!
Sig ran up to him, but reeled back at the sight of the still sharp spines on his back. The claws didn't disappear yet, and neither did all the armour. Sig listened to his father's soft moans and gasps, eyes on his rising and falling back. But then suddenly, he fell horribly still.
Sig: F-father?
No response, but Sig still didn't have the courage to approach him. The beastly metal armour, claws and spines remained on his still body, and this worried Sig even more. Why wasn't his father moving? Why isn't he changing back?
Sig: Father?
He called out to Dante again in a more quiet and shaken voice. He took a step forwards, then reached out for his father's still and slack shoulders. The skin felt warm, but it felt so empty, so soulless...it was nothing the way it felt whenever Sig hugged him.
Sig: (Lips quivering) Father? W-w-wake up!
But Dante didn't wake up, and for one moment Sig feared that he never will. He wanted to call for help, but his voice was stuck in his throat, held back by fear. Tears sprang to his green eyes, filled with a pain he can't describe. He had never felt so alone, so frightened.......
Later that night, only silent sobs penetrated the ghostly silence of the Wasteland. Sig fell asleep on the dusty ground after hours of unheard weeping. It was only at late dawn the next day he was discovered by Dante's comrades, the other Surface Sentinels.
Imagine their surprise when they discovered young Sigfried among the death and decay that surrounded them. Hardly believing the sight, they took him, still sleeping, away to their camp to be brought back to the safety of the Metamorphagan city. After making sure that the young child was safe, they returned and retrieved Dante's still half-transformed body.
Sig was awake when they carried out the funeral that night. Silently he watched them as they burnt the body, looking at the grey smoke as it rose high into the velvet black sky. From the medic tent he slept in, Sig could hear the Sentinels say:
Sentinel 1: May you be at peace among the stars, my friend.
Sentinel 2: If only we knew he had departed we couldn've saved him...
Sent. 1: He didn't even have the chance to change back either, the poor soul....
Sent.2: I still can't imagine though how his young son managed to find his way here...
Sentinel 1: Who?
Sent. 2: You know....young Sigfried?
Natheniel (That's Sent.1): Oh, that child we rescued. I'm not sure myself, Zephon...
Zephon: You didn't think he—saw Dante change, did you? I mean, he's only five. It might be a little too much for him to know that we—well—you know what I mean.
Natheniel: You're right there. But what's the big deal? Those kids will have to find out sooner or later that they can change and all. The worst thing it can do to him is give him nightmares.
Zephon: That's not my point, Nat. You know what the Circle told us all: never tell your children about this changing thing until they are at least about fourteen. Sigfried's seen two things that are just too much for his age yesterday; I'm rather worried about him.
Natheniel: The child will be fine.
Zephon: He saw his father die in front of him, Nat. What's so all right about that?
Natheniel: We'll leave all this to his mother, all right, Zeph? Don't let these things concern you for the moment; we've gor our own things to worry about. Dante won't be the only one dying in this war with the kind of weapons we fight with....
Zephon: (With a bit of revulsion) Yeah. I can't believe it. While mortals advance with their arsenal, we remain with these obselete standard assault rifles and spears. Nothing more.
Natheniel: Heard the latest news? Turel attempted to go Raven and the Pales and ask for some weaponary.
Zephon: Turel? And the Pales? Huh, the poor fool; he's not going to get anything from that stingy lot. I see now how desperate we are, eversince those idiots from Haven City rejected our every try. Mind you, Haven City is like MILES from here.
Natheniel: I wouldn't set foot into that horrible place with the kind of rules it has there; with or without their so-called protective security walls.
Zephon: Don't forget, bud, that we can't get an inch close to those walls, since we're part Metalhead and all. Take my experience with my troop some weeks ago; we had to smuggle through a hell-hole of a sewer to get in. (Shudders) Honestly, if you gave me a choice in between living in Haven City or whopping up some Hura-Quan ass, I'd take my chances with their leader anytime!
The rest of the conversation wasn't important to Sig, so he went back to his little cot and stayed there; staring at the canvas ceiling of the medic tent. Flashes of last night's happening swirled relentlessly in his mind, wiping innocent and naïve thoughts and filling them instead with a burning pain and sadness. His father was dead. He finally realized where and what he was truly doing, and he knew that this night will haunt him forever in many years to come. This horrible scar in his memory, this haunting inseen wound in his young mind brought large tears welling in his pain-filled green eyes. Despair cloaked him.
And then suddenly, he was angry.
Sig never thought that he would hate anything more in his whole life than those Metalheads that had attacked him yesterday night. He hated them more than Brutus or all those other horrible kids at his school. The hate carved itself onto the child's young heart, penetrating deep blood and settling itself within his soul. But the worst of all, he can't deny it now, was the fact that his father had been one of their fetid kind.
Sig just couldn't believe it. His father, his brave and noble father, was truly a Metalhead within. He had heard it from the Metalheads clearly, and he had Zephon and Natheniel's words to prove this horrible truth. Even more disturbing, was that if all this is really true, then that will mean that he was a Metalhead as well.
Sig felt tears stain his chubby little cheek and he pressed Poopsie's soft, squeaky body. He remembered the smell of death and blood, and the burning, insane and inhuman light he saw come from Dante's eyes when the Metalhead inside him emerged. From what Zephon and Natheniel said, Sig knew that all those people he knew in the Metamorphagan City, Proteus, Fenris—his MOTHER—are Metalheads. The very thought of it made his feel sick and shaky all over.
Its not because Sig was ungrateful for Dante's sacrifice or anything. He was more than thankful to be alive, but the burning betrayal of last night's discovery seemed too great to ignore. The more he thought about it, the killing and and the dying, the more the hatred and the feeling of treason sank a thousand fathoms deeper into his soul.
Sig felt helpless, and more tears ran down his face. Tomorrow he will return home. What will happen to him there? Now that he knew the truth about his people, would everything go as it usually did? Would he still feel the same about Proteus and Fenris? He didn't know. He didn't want to know.
He fell asleep late that night, weary after hours of thinking and swirling emotions that were too much for him to fully understand. He awoke early the next day though, and the Sentinels took him home to the Metamorphagan city, unaware that the little child they escorted had become a changed person overnight.
Life for Sigfried will never ever be the same again.
*
YEARS LATER-
The moon rose high into the darkening sky, sinisterly bright. There were no stars in the huge dome of eternal black; nothing but that huge white glowing sphere that shone stark naked among the black velvet of the night........
Voices screamed all around him, drowning him in their mind-tearing curses. A burning rage burned inside him, and pain travelled in his veins to every single muscle it came across. That pain turned into rage, and tore lose within him, cloaking him in a sea of angry crimson. And through the blinding whiteness he saw through his eyes, he spotted the little form of a five-year old child cowering, petrified and defenceless, at his feet.
Behind him were voices, metallic and frigid, crying,"KILL! KILL! KILL THE MORTAL-HALF! KILL THE MORTAL SOUL!! DEVOUR HIM! DESTROY HIM!
The screaming urged him on, and hot breath poured out of his huge, fang- filled maws. He went up to the child.....
KILL HIM! KILL HIM! BE ONE OF US! BE OUR BLOOD BROTHER!!!!! BE A HURA- QUAN!!!
Hura-Quan. Hura-Quan. Hura-Quan. The voices chanted, like the hostile drumbeats of war, spurring him on to complete his unspeakable deed. The child stared at him with a face so pale he looked ghostly. His tiny heart beat along with the demonic chanting, and pure horror came to his large green eyes as he raised his large, clawed arm to strike.......
And then suddenly Sigfried woke up.
The first thing he felt was the wet material of his pillow at the back of his head, which was no doubt soaked by sweat. Heavy breathing expelled itself roughly out of his mouth and nose, and his chest rose rapidly. Inside, he felt his heart race.
Sig shot up to a sitting position, hands over his brown face, fingernails through his shoulder-length hair and digging into his scalp. He felt his whole body shake, his very skeleton trembling inside.
This was the third night this happen. The third night. Why must he remember it now? Why must this unholy memory present itself at this kind of time?
Sig was now 18 years old, no longer the little, naïve child he used to be. Though all those years of other petty school experiences distracted him from his ordeal, the night when his father died refused to be forgotten. It haunted him until now, as fixed as a vengeance.
Eversince that night, he didn't talk, played or laughed as much as he usually did. With every person he met he knew he was actually looking at a Metalhead—and everytime he looked at the mirror, at himself-well-that was a different story..........
It was already set in his core. He HATED Metalheads. He HATED them so much. He hated them for what they were, hated them for what they were doing to his people.......and mostly hated them for being a part of HIM.
Sig sighed deeply, hands unmoved from his face. He had vowed that he will never, ever turn to his beastly, Metalhead half. It was a stupid thing to think about to some people. I mean, it's been fifteen years. Get over it, some would say. But what do they know? They didn't know the level of his hatred and sense of betrayal he felt within. They didn't see thier father being torn apart or die in front of them; being killed by his own cousins.........
Sig put his hands down and stared at his feet across the bed, gazing upwards and looking beyond his toes to his bedroom door. He could hear the sound of pots and dishes clanking and clinking, and the usual sound of an oxen door being closed. Mother had finished her baking, and he knew it was time to get up.
At the breakfast table he was greeted by the usual sight; table laden with breakfast and yakow milk. His mother, now older with a few wrinkles, smiled at him as he put the newly baked bread onto the table.
Juliana: Good morning, Sigfried.
Sig: (Smiling rather falsely) Good morning, mother.
His tone was that of forced gaiety. He had never told his own mother about his deep personal feelings. The Sentinels had lied to Juliana about Sig for her own sake. They told her about Dante's death, yes, but they didn't tell her that Sig had actually seen how he died. They simply said they found him lost in the Metamorphagan city when they returned to collect provisions. Though that sent her close to collasping, it was good enough. The truth would kill her.
So assuming that Sig was as innocent as ever, she acted as if nothing really happened. Sig played along, hiding the truth and the pain behind a cheery smile and shaky laugh. Juliana never suspected anything, so it was easy.
Sig politely finished his breakfast and walked off into the direction of his school; a small college situated down close to the mines at the bottom of the city. He didn't bring his textbooks or anything today. Today isn't going to be like all other school days. Today was ,'special'
Suddenly-
****: Hey! Sigfried!
Sig turned around and saw a tall young man about his age run up to him, his long brown haor flying behind him as he streaked swiftly across the college compound. He was tall and slim, elegant in some way and dressed in very sophisticated looking blue garments.
Sig: (Smiling) Proteus!
Proteus: Where have you been? You were horribly late; I've been looking all over for you.
Sig: Why the fancy stuff?
Proteus: Oh—my mother. She insists that I wear it for the occasion.
Sig wasn;t surprised. Proteus's mother was a respected principal of one of the few schools in the Metamorphagan City.
Sig: What's the big occasion about again?
Proteus: (Beginning to sound poetic) Today is the day where we all young bloods set asunder our once naïve and childish life and start forth a new course in life-
Sig: Speak English, Pro. Proteus: Urgh. Ok, so today we're going to give up our lives to one pure devotion: whether to become Metafor or a Peacemaker.
The Metafores. Sig shuddered slightly. This was the name given to Metamorphagans who chose to learn about their beastly halves and learn how to use and control it. It can be a dangerous choice, for training to control such a lethal inner beast can be quite difficult. The Peacemaker however, is devoid of all these beast-control training; but that doesn't mean that they can't transform. Every Metamorphagan in the city will eventually have to chose their own paths when they came of suitable age.
But way before Sig knew about this, he had already made up his mind.
Proteus: I've almost fized my hair off trying to come up with a real choice. Eitherway, my mother says it's my choice so---I guess I'm going to end up Peacemaker. What about you, Sig?
Sig: (Quickly) Peacemaker.
Proteus: Didn't take you long to decide, eh?
Sig: (Half-sarcastically) Not at all.
Proteus: I've heard that Fenris is going for Metafor.
Sig: (Sighing) He should, I suppose. I mean, he is a scout Sentinel and he's doing pretty well as our Youth Leader and all....
Protues: Hurry now, or we'll be late for the ceremony.
Sig followed Protues into the small academy and looked around warily for the school's reaction about the ceremony. Like he had expected, nearly all of them were excited. He caught several boasts as well, hearing them brag about their beastly powers and how they were going to use them. Sig was disgusted; they didn't know the true meaning of power and murder unless they have seen it before their own eyes.