Chapter 42: The Pearl

Maia had since left, on the grounds that she had been working far harder than he had and deserved a break, leaving Gol to continue the work himself, his task to finish assembling the bottom half of the bomb's frame, an empty half of a sphere comprised of whatever scraps they could gather, whether it be the remains of their factory, spare pieces from the construction of the pipeline, or even what he was able to find left around Haven City after the detonation of their robot. In the end, the bomb would be many dozens of feet across, filled with enough Dark Eco to cover Spargus, an easier feat to accomplish this time, as it was a smaller city than Haven, and with enough power to level the place, wiping out every last building and living thing in and around it, not to mention devastating the surrounding desert. Enough to ensure the demise of both their enemies and the person he didn't mean to kill, if she was even still alive to experience the blast to begin with.

It was quite an overwhelming task at first, but some of the pieces were quite large, and it came together quickly enough with assorted screws and bolts to hold it together, doubled with welding that was made possible by any extra Red Eco they had lying around, the contraption not needing to be too sturdy when it would simply be blown up in the end anyway. And they had a lot of spare time. And while he worked, with the awareness of whose death he was orchestrating, he couldn't deny Maia's logic. This was the best way to ensure victory. Using some roundabout method to spare that one woman's life was foolhardy. He knew that, but nevertheless, the thought distracted him, just as the wailing of the sandstorm outside did. At least, he thought he could hear it through the ceiling, and it surely should have arrived at the citadel by now.

He remembered how excited the storms had made his dear sister the first several times they had witnessed them, as it was a rare thing for the monotonous weather of the Wasteland to ever change, though now they just bored her. There was something different about this one, though. It seemed darker, more violent than previous storms, like it had some ill will against him, though, of course, that was likely just his imagination, brought about by his own unease over the current situation. Feeling paranoid towards a cloud of dirt was foolish, though he couldn't help but stop and listen for the wailing outside that he wasn't even certain could be heard down here, as if checking to confirm that the sound outside was simply wind and not spectral voices.

His head whipped around at another sound, far off. He listened, unsure if this, too, was a product of his imagination, when he heard it again, several more times. His frown deepened. What in the world could that possibly be? Down here, deep in the depths of the citadel, it seemed he was always hearing the strangest of sounds. And they were never good.

Gol set his tools down and headed out of the room, as much in search of his sister as the source of the noise, as she had surely heard it and gone to investigate, as well. The sound did not repeat, and he continued down the hallway, his pace quickening before he settled for flying, the uneasiness he was feeling about the bomb now shifting to a different topic as his search met with nothing. Darn these twisting hallways! No matter how long they lived here, he still couldn't tell one identical hallway from the next, and the shrieking of the wind continued to ring in his ears, even though he knew he certainly couldn't hear it this deep within the citadel. He knew he couldn't, but he still was, and he couldn't stop it from speeding him up further, robbing him of the clarity of mind he should have, to navigate these old halls, as it occurred to him that what he had heard sounded much too similar to gunshots. Why were there gunshots? Who was here? Had the boy returned already?

Such thoughts raced through his mind as he sped through the hallways, disorientating in the near darkness, worse when he found stretches where the candles had burned out or their servants had failed to light them at all, making it all the more difficult to find a sound that he no longer heard and he didn't know the direction of.

After this bout of fruitless wandering, he turned the corner to find the last thing he expected to see, and it was a moment longer before he could comprehend just what it was that he was seeing. He drifted over, in a near trance, and dropped to his knees, arms raised, hesitant, before scooping his sister up from where she lay, holding her against him, while the flow of blood from the wound in her neck slowed, blood drying to black, all down her torso. With her head pressed to his chest, he buried his face in her hair, tears welling up, and while he wondered how this had happened, what was more important right now was what had happened. What had happened? She had just gone to take a break, a simple walk. He had hardly spoken a word to her since his return from Haven City, had hardly even…

He gasped for breath, as hot tears ran down his face, and he wondered if this was a dream, a nightmare, with the abnormal sandstorm merely some symbol of his recent unease, but he knew from past experience that this was never the case. Time and time again, he wished that a certain unfortunate circumstance was simply a dream, but it never was. It never was. It was only the happy times where he would awaken and find that it hadn't really happened, where he'd wake up after glimpsing a world where people didn't hate them, where Dark Eco wasn't something to fear, but to learn about, so its dangers could be countered and its powers put to good use.

He dreamt of a fake world that he wanted to make real, so that his dear sister and he could be happy in their new, perfect world, but it was all just a dream. Their recent victories a dream, even if they had, in fact, happened, since a world without Maia could never be a perfect world, and they had been working towards something that, in the end, would never and could never be realized. No, only one thing was a reality, and that was the fact that his dear sister was cold and still in his arms, and if her body wasn't right here, he'd almost start to wonder if the last several centuries with her were just a dream, as well, the rest of his life just an empty nightmare.

He moved his face away from her hair, smelling of soap and flowery shampoo and the metallic scent of blood mixed with Dark Eco, staring at empty, red eyes, never to see anything again, and then his gaze went down to the fountain of blood, all stemming from her neck. From a knife. Because someone had had the nerve to put it there, to end her life so close to their victory. She never would get to be happy like she deserved. All because of this one person.

He looked up, catching sight of someone else. Likely the someone who had done this, who had taken the only thing that really mattered, even if he forgot that sometimes. It's something he would never forget again, not that it made any difference now. He stared at this person, just sitting there against the wall. They actually had the nerve to come all this way and attack his dearest sister and then…sit there. He would kill them. He would have them begging for mercy long before their own life would be taken from them, before there was nothing human left of them to speak those words. And they deserved worse than he could ever do to them.

Gol set her down, and then he sprung forward, setting upon this other person, some man he had never even seen before, someone he wasn't even aware existed, a person that just appeared in their lives from nowhere, who no doubt came here with the sole purpose of ruining them. He picked them up and shook them, but they made no response, just hanging limp, as limp as his dear sister had been, and he held them against the wall, fingers clutching the fabric of their shirt, glowering in their face. They were as still and silent as his sister. He couldn't even punish this man, this man with the red hair and the ridiculous tattoo. He was still and cold because he was dead, as well, and he just hoped his death was a painful one, though, painful or not, the fact that the Sage couldn't do anything to this man, make him see what he had done and make him know what the consequences were of such an act, that was just…

The Sage let out a hoarse cry that echoed down the hallway and dropped the man, letting him slide back down to the floor. He pounded his fists on the wall before resting his forehead against it, cold and rough to the touch. His breathing was ragged, and he pushed himself away from the wall, staggering as he moved down the hallway, a metallic sound as his foot hit something hard, and he looked down to see a gun sliding across the floor. He looked back at what lay behind him. This is not what had been used on Maia. It was that dreadful knife, and he couldn't bring himself to go back to her now, to take it from her and relieve her of the thing that marred her perfection. And then pure Dark Eco, bolts thick, shot forth from his hand, purple light flashing, overpowering the candlelight, and he held it until the gun was twisting, metal melting like a paper set aflame, falling in upon itself, and he didn't stop until it was a sizzling puddle, the air itself scorched, the walls with black etched across them in jagged patterns.

And then he was flying down the hallway as his thoughts began to blur together, forming into one tangle, his vision distorting, and there was nothing else but the Dark Eco flowing through his veins and the sounds that could only be his own growls, like a beast, like the servants they had created and the being that came from the boy that, for once, was not the center of their troubles.

He moved through the citadel, hardly aware of destination, lightning sparking and melting candles into nothing and targeting any of the creatures that dare get in his way, or in his field of vision, even, the things slinking back into the shadows when several of their comrades were reduced back to the substance they were composed of.

And then he was in a room, and there were more things, breakable, more satisfying, and he took one up, uncaring of the dark liquid inside, tossing it, and it exploded against the wall in a shower of glass and liquid. And then he took another and another. And then when this wasn't fast enough, he took hold of the table and turned it on its side, the entire arrangement crashing down, puddles of different-colored liquids flowing between the glass and mixing together, changing colors as they intermingled. But, that wasn't enough. It wasn't enough to ease the weight that had settled into his chest, and he scrambled for the doorway, hands clutching either side of the doorframe.

And then he moved to the next room as events blurred together, just like his thoughts, until it was later, he didn't know how long later, but later, and he found himself sitting amidst shredded pages of books, books whose bindings were torn apart, books that didn't hold anything that mattered anyway. He looked to the side to see he had his back against one of the bookcases that hadn't been toppled, himself sprawled and coat splayed out and folded up beneath him, and then he looked the other way to see the furniture was in different places than he remembered, not all upright, not all in one piece. And a shrieking caught his ears, and his head went in all directions before he saw the sandstorm still raging on, outside the window above him, dark and ruddy outside with only moonlight to shine through the whirlwind of sand, while the only other light came from the few candles he had missed and the torches outside.

And now he felt weak and empty, like all of his energy and all of his emotion had left him, all of the Dark Eco gone from his veins, it almost seemed, leaving him the frail, old man that he was, aching and his lungs as ineffective as ever, feeling more than usual that he was suffocating, in a room running out of oxygen, and he clutched his chest and tried to draw in a breath that wasn't enough and never would be. It was something he had tolerated for centuries, but right now, he really couldn't stand it. But, what could he do? There wasn't much of anything he could ever do about his problems. He had tried his entire life, and had he ever really succeeded? All the Dark Eco of the world was now available to him, but had it solved anything? The world was still not his, and frankly, he didn't know how much he cared right now anyway. Not at all, really.

Another noise came to him, under the sound of the storm, a quiet sound, a shuffling, uncertain footsteps. He started to rise to his feet, a hand clutching the bookcase behind him, causing a loose page to slip off the shelf and float down. If it wasn't his dear sister out there, it couldn't be anyone he wanted to see. He caught his balance, still shaky, before flying at the doorway, grabbing at the frame and launching himself at the intruder. He grabbed them, hands tight on their arms, snarling. He would tear this person apart. He would never let anyone pester him again. It was over. Enough.

A scream split the air, and they fought, he reaching for their throat and they pushing at him with palms, and he heard words, but not their meanings, as he struggled with this person, trying to strangle the life out of them as they tried to pull his hands away, but he found himself to be without the same energy as before, as it was spent, and he had a strange weakness in his limbs from the destruction he had caused in that lapse in his memory, or else he would surely have killed them by now, neck snapped or breath finally denied to them for good.

"…me. Don't you…remember? It's Kass…Kassra."

A face came into view, lit by the torches, and eyes looked up into his, fear, but not as much as there should be. His grip on her loosened, and they stopped in the middle of the room, and a slight grin started to twist her mouth, even as she continued to clutch his hands with her own.

"What are you doing here?" he said, his voice almost a whisper, and he moved his hands away. It was surreal, almost a dream today, tonight, whatever it was, one nonsensical event after another. Maybe it really was. Maybe he could just pinch himself and…

"I wanted to see you." And her eyes, partly obscured by disheveled hair, looked up as she rubbed at her neck with one hand, but she didn't face him fully, as if not ready to turn her face to his quite yet. "There was this man…"

He grabbed her by the arms again, pulling her close. "This man, who was he?"

"'Was'"? she repeated, smile gone.

"Yes, who…" "Was". Because he was dead now, not that it helped anything really, because his sister was already…in the "was" category, as well. The "was", but no longer "is".

His eyes narrowed. Was she with him? What did she come here for? "Who was he? Who was this man?"

Yes, "was", though that only meant he now couldn't punish the man. He was lucky. That man was lucky he was dead. He didn't have to live in this world anymore. He didn't have to suffer anymore.

She shook her head, staring at his chest. "I…I'm not sure. I think he was one of the people in charge, or something, and I overheard him talking, and I thought…" She looked up at him, grinning again. "I thought he was coming here…he seemed to know where you were, so I followed him, and…" She shrugged. "And here I am."

At this point, any fear in her eyes was gone, despite the grip he still had on her arms as he stared down at her, still not completely able to comprehend her presence. Why was she here?

She attempted to move her arms away, and he let go, and she stepped back, her smile weakening when she focused on his clothes. "Are you okay? Something seems…wrong. Where's…"

"Why are you here?" If she even was here. If this was even real. He couldn't tell. Not for sure.

"I…" She stared at his clothes a moment longer, then, returned her gaze to his face. "Where's your sister? What's wrong?"

Gol looked down, at where her eyes had just been, and found darkness on his coat, black in the dim light, but he knew what it was. Blood. His sister's, clinging to him before it had fully dried. If one didn't know any better, they could almost assume it was the Sage's, that it must have come from some gaping wound in his chest, though if that was the case, he surely would have been dead by now.

He stepped back, away from her, still staring at his own soiled clothes, proof that the past events had actually happened, unless this was just another part of the nightmare, too, though it was hard to say when some parts were consistent and others weren't. And his mind went to when he had first seen this woman a year ago and how he had worried that something had happened to his dear sister, and he had waited for her return, hoping they had simply been separated and that was all. But, chances that she'd return this time were nothing. Impossible. This time it was over. He'd never have any need to worry about her again or try to figure out why she was angry, and he would never reminisce over the past with her again, and never again would he hear her sing.

Gol sniffed and turned away, her question finally returning to his mind. Where was his dear sister? Would down in some deep hallway of the citadel be accurate, or was there no answer? Just gone. Either gone, or if she was somewhere, she was unreachable to him right now. And was she, by chance, somewhere waiting for him, awaiting the day he could finally join her, or was her existence truly gone for good, like a cloud scattered on the wind?

The tears started to return, and he wiped them away. He couldn't do such things with that girl staring at him, as she surely was. She always stared.

Something touched his arm, and he jerked away. "You shouldn't have come here." It still didn't make sense. Why would she bother coming all this way? Why would she come to see him?

He crossed his arms and walked away, with nowhere to go but to move away from her, but his efforts to forget she was there were thwarted again when she spoke up once more, with an "I'm sorry", a sound that seemed out of place in this dark, cold room, with the shrieking and whistling outside like the cries of the dead. Oh, why did he think of that?

He turned his head to see that she was indeed looking at him, as she was always so fond to do, it seemed, her words now creating meaning in his mind, even if it was delayed. "Sorry for what?"

She shrugged.

Gol turned away again. "Why are you here, really? Why do you come to the ones causing destruction upon the world? People only come here that wish to do us harm, which is…unpleasant, but it is expected. And yet, that is certainly not why you're here, is it?"

"Of course, not. Why is it so hard for you to understand that I just wanted to see you? You saved my life, and…"

"And you saved mine, so we are even. So be on your way."

"No. I'm…"

"I said get out of here!" He spun to face her, his voice coming out in a snarl, but a weak one, for he didn't have the will nor the energy for more. She stayed planted where she was, but crossed her arms.

"Where do you think I could go? There's a sandstorm outside. You'd know that if you weren't locked away in some dank basement like a grumpy, old hermit."

"I know perfectly…" He didn't need to defend himself to her. And there were plenty of other rooms she could go to. She didn't need to be in this one.

As if unaware of the fact that he could snap her in half right here and now, she said, "I brought you something." She rummaged around in one pocket, removing her fist seconds later. She began to make her way towards him, smile returning. "Hold out your hand."

He growled at her. Who did she think she was? Who did she think he was?

"Please?"

He brought up a hand, his ungloved one, rolling his eyes as he unclenched fingers that wanted to tighten around her neck again and not let go this time. He felt something light drop into his palm and looked down to find a small, round object, golden in color, he thought, though it was hard to tell in the gloom.

"What is it?" She brought him a pebble.

"It's a pearl, silly. You remember those sand crabs I told you about? Well, when I was traveling to Spargus, I found one of the pearls they make, just sitting there on top of some rocks, and it made me think of you, so I kept it until I could find you again." She rocked on her feet. "When I vow to do something, I always do it." Her face attempted to look serious for a moment, before the visage was ruined by another goofy smile.

He stared at it. It was a small thing, something that could so easily be overlooked in the vastness of the desert, especially when it was the same golden color as the sand all around it. His fingers wrapped around the small object as if it was the most delicate thing in the world, and perhaps it was.

"Thank you."

Her smile grew larger, if that was even possible. "You like it?"

He grunted. He felt the object in his hand, smooth, and rolled it back and forth between his palm and fingers, while his eyes stared at the space over her head, at nothing.

"Maia's…" he said, voice quiet, and with its usual raspiness, it was hard to tell it was really a voice and not just a whisper of wind that had somehow made its way into this room. "…gone. She's gone."

"I'm sorry," she said, voice low to match his.

She said no more, and they stood in silence, and it felt like time had stopped, that his world had ended, and time had ceased to flow. It started again when she moved to wrap her arms around him and rested her head against his chest. He looked down at her, and the crackling of the fires in the torches seemed loud in the near silence, while the wind no longer seemed to retain that angry quality of before. Now it just sounded like wind, just another sandstorm they, his dear sister and him, had gone through a dozen times before. Though, "they" was now the wrong term to use, but he supposed now wasn't the time to concern himself over the correct words to describe his situation. What did simple words matter right now anyway? There were so many more important things. Far more important, and once they were gone, you began to realize there was nearly nothing left that was important anymore. If they hadn't tried to transform the world, would he have ended up losing so much?

Tears started down his face again, but this time, she couldn't see them, and he moved his arms around her, the pearl still safe within his hand. He didn't know how long they stayed like this, but it probably wasn't as long as it felt. However long it was, he was the first to break the peace, with just a word. "Stay."

He felt her nod and heard an "Mmm-hmm," though he didn't know if it was in response to the same thing he had in mind. Stay because there was a sandstorm, and she couldn't return yet anyway, or stay because there was a war on, and it was safer here than where she would eventually return to? At least, that's what he believed, that this place was safer than Spargus, even when circumstances proved otherwise. But, no one would come here seeking to hurt her. He wouldn't let them. He wouldn't let something like that ever happen again. Why didn't he resolve to do that before? Unlike Kassra, when he decided to do something, he didn't end up doing it, now did he?

Gol rose the hand without the pearl to wipe his face dry. She would not see him this way. He had let her get away with enough. He removed his other hand from her, and her arms slipped away from his waist before she stepped back, gazing into his eyes until he looked away. Where was there for her to stay? There were only two rooms set aside for such a thing, and one was his sister's.

He pointed off behind him. "My room is that way. If you want to use it, use it."

And then he turned and walked off, back towards the depths of the citadel. There were things that needed to be done, unpleasant things, and he would get to them eventually, but maybe not yet. For now, he just needed to think and wander down cold hallways that had never been so empty.

This chapter was hard, but it turned out better than I expected. And Kassra has returned! Did you miss her? Please review.