Day One
Immediately after his collapse, the ministers carried Da'an into the cot and the nurses surrounded him. Liam and Renee rushed over to monitor their friend. The nurses checked Da'an's vital signs and pronounced him to be in a deep trance as they had expected.
"So what happens now?" Liam asked one of the nurses.
"It is all in his hands now," she responded. "Is there anything we can do to make your stay more comfortable?"
"No," Liam answered.
"Not right now," Renee answered.
All but one nurse and one minister left the room. Renee and Liam sat cross-legged at Da'an's bedside. The Taelon was extremely pale with the exception of four red marks on his face and neck. It was difficult to believe that he was even alive. When Liam took his hand, it was cold and stiff. Liam could barely feel anything flowing.
"He is in a deep trance," the nurse explained.
"His journey has begun," the minister added.
"What's going to happen to him?" Renee asked.
"I do not know," replied the minister. "For each subject, the journey is different. However, we have never had a subject under such close surveillance by the priests."
"It is why most of us believe he will not survive," the nurse said, "…but then, you probably already figured that out."
Renee felt her stomach churn. When she saw the others turn swiftly in her direction, she realized just how loud it had been.
"Perhaps you require nourishment," the nurse said. "I will have the nurses outside fetch some food for you."
As the nurse rose to speak with her counterparts outside, the minister reverted his focus back to Da'an. However, Liam's focus never left Renee's face. He knew the real reason why her stomach had churned, and he feared looking away from her. Somehow just staring at her beautiful features made the situation seem less serious, despite how tense were those hazel eyes that looked back on him with such worry. She wanted resolution. She wanted to tell him that this was all a bad dream, and that all three of them would wake up as if it never happened. He wanted to be the one to give her what she wanted. God, he did! But this was not in his hands anymore, and whom it all depended on was lying in between them like a corpse with no faith in his perseverance save that of the two people who should not have even been there in the first place. And worst of all, as time dragged on, little by little their faith would expire.
When Da'an collapsed, he did not hit the floor. When his body felt the impact of the cold hard surface, the rest of him continued to fall. There was no sound as he fell, and there was no air. He was free falling through a colorless vacuum his own mind had somehow created. He could not feel himself slowing, but the world around him seemed to slow. He closed his eyes and forced himself upright in the direction he believed would make him so. When he did, the rushing colorless columns of nothing ceased their rapid movement. He knew now that he was still. As he gazed downward at his feet, he saw a large dark violet sphere below him. It was home as it used to be. When he put one foot forward, the image of his home distorted like ripples rushing outward on a pond. As he walked, those ripples continued to rush outward from his feet, distorting that image.
Curiosity set in, and he leaned downward to touch the surface. When he did, tiny waves rushed outward for each finger that glided across the surface. It was ice cold, but it felt like melted crystal. He suddenly wondered if this was what being God felt like.
You insist upon viewing our planet as it once was.
I draw strength by experiencing this beauty.
I prefer the truth.
The image suddenly melted into the colorless wasteland that was his planet after its destruction.
I draw my strength by always remembering how the Jaridians destroyed our home world.
Suddenly, Da'an did not feel so well. Why was he here?
"Such an ill and meaningless fate," a very distorted voice whispered.
Da'an's whole body shifted in the direction he thought he had heard the voice.
"How many were left to die?" another equally distorted voice asked.
The image of the planet suddenly rushed upward, consuming him like an erupting geyser. Little droplets of the destroyed image reformatted into a strange chamber with a hard black floor, and dark blue walls. Seven figures circled Da'an, and one appeared right in front of him.
They had large, thick robes covering every inch of their body save their hands and their faces. However, their hands were covered with black armored gloves, and over their faces were dark black masks made of material as hard as porcelain.
Da'an did not know whether to bow of to stand firm. Should he free himself, he would no longer have to serve these people, but he was not free yet.
"You do not bow to show respect," the one facing him said. "Such an inaction would be viewed as blasphemy by your peers."
"I am thinking," Da'an replied.
"You think too much," the figure said, "and that is your weakness. You think so much that you fail to see the answer lying right in front of you."
"Answers come and go everyday," Da'an said. "I have no need of answers save those to my questions."
"Then, what answer do you seek now?" asked the figure. "After all, one of our duties is to provide guidance to lost ones like you."
"In the many centuries that I have been alive, I have learned that guidance and answers are not often the same things."
"In the many centuries that I have been alive, I have learned that guidance is often much more preferable than answers."
"Why have you been spying on me all my life?" Da'an asked.
The figure walked backward and then around Da'an.
"Your subtle diplomatic ways have no power over us, child," the figure said. "Do not ask meaningless questions in your futile attempt to understand us. You really want to know, dear child, why we have been controlling you all your life."
"Why am I so important to you? Why me before anyone else?"
"It was never about you. It was about that abomination of a brother of yours."
"A brother?"
"Apparently, we are slipping in our control. Somehow, you have regained pieces of your repressed memories—memories that you were never supposed to have."
"Tell us, when did you first experience these repressed memories?" another one asked.
"Of what concern is it to you?" Da'an asked back.
"Your family has been a constant thorn in our side, child," the figure said firmly. "Nothing would satisfy me more than seeing you die in this irreverent and frivolous pursuit of what you laughingly call freedom. However, you are worth more to me alive than you ever could have been dead. You know this, do you not?"
Da'an said nothing.
"We brought you here, child. The heretics you allowed to drug you have put you in a trance. This trance is supposed to bring you closer to your spirit so that you may separate yourself from the beast within."
"You have taken control of this ritual why?"
"In order to show you where you truly belong. We were warned by the dissention of our former counterpart that you would try this. It was only a matter of time."
"Nye wants me to be free. She thinks I was meant to be."
"Nye is a fool that was manipulated by the ravings of a false prophet."
"A prophet who made predictions about me."
"He knew this would happen. We knew he would be correct."
"If the prophet is correct in his premonitions, then he is not false."
"True, but if we can alter your future, then he will be false."
"Why do you seek to alter my future?"
"Because you were not meant to follow him. If you were, you would have done so when he practically begged you to. Instead, you chose to remain behind and serve us."
Da'an's heart began to increase its pace. "You are referring to Ma'el."
"Correct."
"Then, Ma'el is my twin."
"Correct."
"Why did you do this to me?"
"You view the suppression of your memories as a wrongdoing. It is not malevolence. It is protection. We were hiding you from your true self. You are some kind, compassionate specter beloved by all because we made you that way. Your true self is full of fire and contempt. Years after you and Ma'el were born, your parent came to us in a frenzy. He told us about these two-year-old children who were abominations threatening all that was good and decent. Oh, he feared the indistinct ramblings of your twin, but the one he truly feared was you."
I know something about the twins…Suddenly, Da'an felt a shiver run down his back. His breathing increased and his legs turned into lead. The figure caught him as he fell. The walls in front of him melted into an image of a Taelon six feet away from him. He was on his knees. Da'an could see the fear.
"Tell us, Bel'lie, what has brought you to us under such distress?" the figure's voice echoed from nowhere.
"I know something about the twins," he panted.
"Ah yes, the new twins. Quite an anomaly, not so?"
"Not an anomaly, your grace, an abomination!"
"What are you referring to?"
"The one I named Ma'el, he is not like normal children," Bel'lie panted. "Neither of them is. In the short two years of their lives, I have not once seen them apart. They move as if they are one. I sometimes cannot tell which is which. Their expressions are so similar that it is terrifying." He shuddered. "Great gods, the way they stare at me! They send shivers down my back. Shivers! On a Taelon! It is sickening!"
"Calm yourself, Bel'lie," another voice said. "What else?"
"One—Ma'el—sees things before they happen. He awakens from his slumber in the middle of the night screaming and ranting about something he has dreamt. I try to calm him, but soon he curls up into a ball and starts mumbling things I cannot understand."
"Give us an example."
Bel'lie shrunk backwards. He was greatly afraid of what he was about to say. "Great high priest, you…recall the sudden death of my older sibling Cal'al."
"We do. Such a terrible accident. He slipped and fell to his death trying to complete the Kaar'paaj ritual."
"Ma'el predicted his death. He awoke screaming and clawing as if…as if he was trying to grab on to something. Then he fell flat on his back and remained stiff. When I calmed him down, he told me that someone I knew was going to die. The mist was so thick, he said, that he would not see the edge of the cliff before it was too late. He would fall, hitting rock after rock and clawing to try and stop himself. He said, he would die before even hitting the ground."
"I understand why that would cause such a shock," the high priest replied. "However, I sense that your true fear is directed towards something else."
"Yes, the other one…the one named Da'an…" Bel'lie shuddered in disgust and terror. "The other is like a ghost. He never speaks. Ma'el does all the speaking for him. You see, Ma'el can also read minds. He often finishes my own sentences before me. He tells me what Da'an is thinking. That child is evil. He is pure evil. When he stares at me, I feel the coldness. It is as if he knows something about me and is waiting to exploit it. Every time I get near him, he gives me that blank emotionless stare. Whenever I try separating him from Ma'el, he screams like a demon. It is the only sound I have heard from him. My hand starts to burn, and I must release him from my grip."
There was a long silence as the priests absorbed this bizarre knowledge. Then, they all nodded in unison for Bel'lie to continue.
"Sometimes I see objects floating by themselves. I know that it is coming from Da'an. I know it! Once Tay'jay tried to separate Da'an from Ma'el. Again, with that awful scream! Then, objects began to move by themselves, and the entire room shook. Tay'jay was hurled across the room. But that stupid boy! All he did was rush back to them in excitement. Humph! He called it fun. He asked for them to do it again."
"Well, Bel'lie I see no reason for you to fear that," the high priest said. "After all, you do not have to be special for objects to float by themselves. All of us can do it."
"But sire…the Commonality suppresses it…I thought."
"Their abilities reflect their emotions," one of the priests said.
"The emotions release the beast," another added. "Once the beast is unleashed, you can never return to the Commonality."
"Some children are born more mentally aware than others," the high priest recited. "This must be the case for your children."
The priests all looked to the high priest and deliberated quietly.
"A decision has been made," the high priest said. "They must be brought here."
"What?" asked Bel'lie, unsure of what he had just heard.
"These children must be taken to the priests," another priest explained.
"Exactly. Their gifts must be suppressed by the Commonality," the high priest explained to Bel'lie. "If not, they risk total devolution."
"Not my children!" Bel'lie cried. "I will not have my children turned into horrible monsters!"
"Calm yourself, Bel'lie," said the high priest. "The children pose no threat to you as of this moment. Let them handle themselves."
"Are you blind? Do you not see the urgency of this situation? Those two are a pair of demons! They must be controlled!"
"You dare so unleash your outbursts upon me?"
Bel'lie kneeled. "My apologies sire. It is not my place to question the wisdom of the priests."
"Precisely. We will not risk fully joining two children to the Commonality so early in their lives. The sudden onset could drive them mad, and then we could never save them. As much as you appear opposed to it, the children must wait until they have spurted into full adults, which will not be until their sixteenth years, as it is with all Taelons."
"What must I do until then? I cannot bear being near these children!"
"Bel'lie, you are their parent. It is your duty to bear them, discipline them, and meld them into whatever the caste minister says they should be. If you cannot handle that, then perhaps you should give the children to their secondary parent."
"Their secondary parent is dead! As Ja'lan birthed them…"
"I am referring to Tay'jay's parent, you fool."
"That harlot! Tam'bi is not even worthy of our social class, much less any Amo'qui child."
"Then, why did you give Tay'jay to Tam'bi?"
"Because Tay'jay is a mistake, and he knows it!"
"Bel'lie! Do not bring your infidelity in this sacred house as excuse to deny us of our judgment! We know what is best for all of our children. Children belong more to the Commonality than they do even to their own parents. By our holy law, you must follow our word, and our word is to take care of these children or give them to someone who will. Am I unclear?"
"No, sire. You are clear. Thank you."
The image faded black. Suddenly, Da'an began to think of water. "That was just before he drowned me."
"Fourteen days before to be precise," the high priest said placing his armored hand over Da'an's shoulder.
"Why?"
"Because whenever he looked into your eyes, he saw pure evil, and because he continued to see it until the day he died."
"But I am not evil," Da'an said shaking his head.
"Oh, no?" the high priest asked. "I think you will find that your actions throughout your life speak otherwise."
"You stole my life," Da'an said firmly turning to face that black mask.
"This mission to free yourself from the Commonality is useless, Da'an," the high priest said. "We have protected you for over two-thousand years, and you repay us by following a group of heretics."
"My mind is not yours to control."
"You fail to realize that you need us to control you. You need the priests to protect the Commonality and keep blasphemers in check—blasphemers who manipulate such loyal subjects like you. You were once our most loyal servant. You were the best the Commonality could offer. You were never afraid to do what was best for it. You belong to us, Da'an. You belong with us. There is nothing for you out there because you and we have the same mission. You and we are the same."
"I am nothing like you! You take people and play with their minds like toys. You stole my memories. My family—my whole family—is gone because of you!"
"Really, Da'an? Do you really believe that you have not done the same thing to others? Are you so blind to your own past?"
"Leave me! Stay away from me!"
"Leave you?" the high priest laughed. "We are the priests, Da'an. As long as you are a part of the Commonality, you will never run from us. It is far too late for you to develop a conscience, Da'an, and you know this."
"But it is not too late for me to leave," Da'an said walking away from them.
"You cannot leave, Da'an! Not if you want to survive!" the high priest called as Da'an moved further and further away.
Da'an said nothing in response to them. There was no need. He owed nothing to them.
"You have chosen your fate, Da'an. We leave you to the beast."
A sharp pain stabbed its way into Da'an's abdomen. It took all of his endurance to keep himself from hitting the ground hard. The pain escalated and made its way to Da'an's forehead. Blushing only made it burn, and any attempt to move only added more fuel to the fire. Strange primitive sounds left Da'an's throat. Da'an could feel his own skin tearing and melting into the Atavus beast. For every follicle of skin that tore and reshaped itself, a sharp pain was not too far behind. This must have been what an animal being skinned alive felt like. Da'an's eyes turned blood red, and sharp fangs and talons replaced his teeth and nails. When he tried to cry, the terrible melding of a lion's roar and a baboon's screech left his mouth. The transformation was even more violent and painful than it had been the first time. As he continued to battle against the beast within him, he realized that the priests had intentionally made it that way.
