"..zis… yrazis… Kyrazis!"
Kyrazis opened his eyes blearily. His room, part in blinding light from the window, the rest in dim shadows slowly came into focus.
"Wake up. It's almost time for our class's match." A woman was bent over him. Long raven black hair flowed over her broad shoulders, before pooling on the side of his pillow.
"Sister?"
She sighed before standing upright. "Has there been anyone else who's woken you up in the past 5000 years?"
Kyrazis shook his head. Aeldari children were raised communally for the most part. It was rare for the birth parents to take care of their child. It usually happened when the child was a completely young soul, or was a close companion of the one who birthed it in a previous life.
He and his sister had never known their birth parents, as they had been taken care of in one of the nurseries that handled their early development and education; socially and academically. It wasn't a unique situation, but it also meant that the only one who had ever woken him was his sister.
"The first fight of the day's already finished." She sighed. "We've got to be there to at least support our class's initiates."
Kyrazis sighed, and covered his eyes with his arms. The sunlight streaming in from the crystal windows hurt his eyes, and the foggy warm comforts of drowsiness convinced him that staying in bed was the better course of action.
"I said… wake UP!"
He heard the whistle of a blade, and rolled out of the way as a silver dagger sunk into his pillow.
"What?! Are you trying to kill me?!" Kyrazis yelled back, fully awake, adrenaline pumping his heart loud enough that it felt deafening in his ears.
"If we're late again, we're going to be sent to the pits." His sister sighed, pulling the blade out of the pillow, sending tufts of stuffing into the air. "I just grew into this body. I don't want to start over again just yet. Look at my arms and shoulders, aren't they perfectly muscled this time?"
Kyrazis nodded as his eyes looked over the bare arms and shoulders of his sister. There was very little fat there, but at the same time her sleek limbs were not overburdened by excess muscle. They were smooth and soft looking, but at the same time he could see a firmness under the skin that showed there was strength in there.
"Well? Are you going to get ready or not?" His sister asked, one hand on the handle of her dagger.
Kyrazis sighed. The pits were a never ending death match against whatever alien the raiding parties brought back. The thrill was enjoyable, if one was tired of their current body and wanted to start anew. It was also their arena mistress's preferred way of dealing with repeated tardiness. Something about allowing them to catch up for all the fights they'd missed for their lateness. It was also why their arena probably had such a high drop-out rate.
Kyrazis grumbled to himself as he pulled on some clothes; torn pillow and sheets already re-knitting themselves together at his psychic command as a crystal goblet filled itself with an elixir from the sink and floated over to him.
"How much until we're late?" He said, as he pulled on the tough yet flexible garments that made up his training wear.
"We won't have to run, yet." His sister said, slipping an arm over his shoulder. "But, it's boring without you, so hurry up."
Kyrazis shrugged her off as he picked up the glass floating in front of him, and downed it all quickly. Neuro-stimulants, adrenal enhancers, and pleasure chemicals rushed into him giving the kick he needed to fully awake.
"Right! I'm ready!" He shouted, flexing his arms and shoulders.
"You're forgetting this." His sister tossed something towards it, and he caught it in his left hand.
"The Spiked Kiss?" Kyrazis lifted an eyebrow. "We're cheering this time, not fighting."
"'Always be ready, for the battle never ends.'" His sister quoted one of the teachings of their arena mistress, and walked past him swaying her hips.
Kyrazis sighed again, and fit the small spring loaded spike to his left wrist. It was one of the little 'special' items that allowed their arena to separate itself from the rest. All of the arenas had one or two little 'special somethings'. A different flavor of fighting and killing for everyone in the city. Some had flashy combat forms, or had a certain order of dismemberment that they had to follow rigorously. Kyrazis's arena was more practical in that sense, focussing instead on being able to fight at all times. That meant that they all were encouraged to wear the Spiked Kiss, or some other hidden weapon even outside of the arena.
Kyrazis looked over the small black spike attached to a set of smooth straps that bound it to his wrist. A well placed palm strike, and internal springs would fire the Kiss forwards, before opening it up like a bird's beak; widening the wound it made so the receiver of the Spiked Kiss would bleed out quickly. It was an odd little device, requiring no psychic command to operate; only mechanical impulse.
Its use required practice, but was in theory available to anyone. Kyrazis could attest to the importance of said practice with personal experience. Putting things into pockets while wearing the Spiked Kiss was particularly dangerous. He'd lost a body that way once, and his sister hadn't let him forget about how stupid he looked as he bled out with one hand in his pocket, and the Spiked Kiss buried in his thigh.
'Well, she stuck with me back then as well.' Kyrazis thought to himself.
His sister slit her own throat after he'd bled out that time. They'd been born together, so they made a habit of dying together so they could be reborn simultaneously. It was an odd habit that many Aeldari twins shared. Something about their souls being intertwined at birth; forming a deeper connection than all others.
"Kyrazis! Hurry up!" He heard her cry.
"Coming! Coming…" He muttered, binding the Spiked Kiss to his right wrist as the blinds to the windows automatically closed, sensing his intent to depart.
"Main street, or the alleys?" Kyrazis asked his sister, as he walked out of the door into the arched hallways of the apartment they shared. Numerous Wraithbone drones either crawled or clambered around like spiders on the ceiling and walls, cleaning and correcting the Wraithbone of the tower they were in.
"Main street." His sister said as she started walking down the hallway. "It'll be faster to use the alleys, but there are too many gutter runners down there these days."
Kyrazis nodded as he followed her. The alleys used to be an easy shortcut through the city for the more athletic Aeldari. However, there was always the risk of being ambushed by some random lunatic living down there. Some of them liked the thrill of the ambush, others did it to kidnap someone to force their pleasures onto them; only being satisfied by having a truly unwilling subject at their mercy.
They were a proper nuisance.
Kyrazis and his fellow arena mates occasionally got together in groups to clean out some of the short cuts they liked. Partially for convenience, and partially for sport. They hung the still writhing bodies of all the offending parties upside down as a reminder of who really owned that route.
Recently though, the number of vagrants and inconveniences in the alley way was growing. It used to be at least a couple of months before they had to go down there to lay their claim, but now it only took days for new crazies to take residence in the alleys. The task of clearing their preferred shortcuts ended up getting tedious, and they had all gotten bored of stringing up the would-be ambushers in recent years. Currently, even the shallowest parts of the alleys weren't safe.
They were not impossible to pass-through, however, and some of Kyrazis's arena mates enjoyed the thrill of feeling predatory eyes watching their back at all times.
Suddenly, the two stopped as the door to the room next to theirs opened. A large ovoid drone floated out. It was longer than an Aeldari was tall, and appeared flattened; like a metallic oyster.
"A recovery drone…" His sister said. "I guess that Seer next door finally lost it."
They watched the drone fly down the corridor before turning itself to fit through a window, and fly off.
Recovery drones were psi-drones that recovered the discarded bodies of the Aeldari. Leaving corpses around wasn't hygienic or practical, so these drones patrolled the city removing them to processing plants. Aeldari blood and flesh eventually crystalized post-morten, so unless one had made special arrangements, the body left behind was allowed to crystalize before being shattered and released to the wind or spread across the land. They were also part of the reason why Kyrazis and his arena mates had to leave those they wanted removed from the alleys at least partially alive when they strung them up. The other part was to increase the gruesomeness of the warning; revenge for being ambushed for those who had been, and amusement for the rest.
"I thought she was increasing the amount of depressants in her elixirs." Kyrazis remarked remembering the daily decrease in reaction time, and the longer slurring of words every time he passed his neighbor.
"She was pretty accurate. Always managed to predict the outcomes of all the matches. Even gave me a couple warnings about some hidden weapon my opponent would have that day."
"She certainly liked you a lot." Kyrazis snorted. The most he could remember from his neighbor was the occasionally narrowed gaze he'd receive every once in a while when he left the apartment for a brief smoke.
"What can I say; I draw in the crowds."
Kyrazis sighed. That probably wasn't the main reason. The way that woman looked at him and the way she looked at his sister said it all. It wasn't just goodwill in her gaze, but probably lust and longing. Of course, the glance he got was tinged with jealousy; not to mention the aura of irritation she always exuded through the psychic net towards him.
Well… they wouldn't be seeing her anymore.
All Aeldari who looked too far into the future eventually ended up going to the central pleasure centers of the city. Out here in the suburbs, there was still some separation between living space and entertainment area. However, the central areas had no difference. Kyrazis had been there before, after a friend of his had awakened their sight for too long, and disappeared one day.
They were called pleasure centers, but to him it looked more like a form of self-flagellation; an attempt to drown out and destroy everything inside and outside them.
Bone breaking base, and spine shivering string instruments sounded out as the thick smell of musk, sweat, and blood filled the air. Crystallized blood was splattered everywhere, spilt at a faster pace than the drones could clean. Flickering lights and colors blinded the eyes, and numbed the mind while incenses and perfumes clogged the more primitive forms of sense with sweet, sour, and heady odors.
He never found his friend, but at the same time he didn't want to see what had happened to them. He and his sister did not fear death. The people there actively dove into it, as if the only purpose for their life was to die in the loudest, brightest, and brutalest way possible.
'Idiot.' Kyrazis thought, looking out of the window in the direction the drone had disappeared.
Even if that Seer reincarnated, she would eventually end up there. All the Seers who overdosed or died all of a sudden did so. That was a future that didn't need foresight to be predicted.
'They say that it's because they've seen the end times that they become like that.'
He didn't know what to feel about that thought. He had seen personal futures of him losing, or his sister losing a match. Some of those visions had come true, some of them had been avoided. The future was never set in stone, and always more fun when it was unexpected.
His personal theory for their behavior was that they had just seen too much, and thus everything that could happen to them or would happen to them had already been experienced. Only eternal boredom waited after that.
No one really came back from the pleasure centers in a state that allowed him to confirm that theory, but their actions convinced him he was right.
'It was as if they were paying the price of seeing too much of what had and what would happen by blinding themselves to everything but the now.'
Kyrazis made sure to keep his future vision limited to a few seconds or minutes in the future. He was enjoying the present, and he had seen enough of what happened to those who saw too much.
There was no return from that, so they would never see the Seer next door.
—-
Kyrazis looked up as they left their tower and started walking down Main Street. Psi-drones floated overhead, either delivering some product, doing an errand, or removing the occasional body from the city. Various anti-grav supported skiffs and barges criss-crossed the sky; and numerous white towers rose up from the ground all the way to the horizon; shining spires holding mostly living quarters, although some were more focussed around entertainment
"Oh, the sim-battle arcade is on fire again." Kyrazis looked up to where his sister was pointing. A floor on one of the towers was jetting blue and yellow flames. Numerous drones were already rushing to the scene, and had started putting up transparent psionic walls to isolate the fire and prevent it spreading while pyromantic drones arrived to bleed the fire of its heat to extinguish it.
"Guess another idiot brought in a Fusion gun." He shrugged.
"It's a Shuriken only sim. You'd think more people would read the rules." She sighed as they walked under the numerous drones. "I swear, it's getting worse every century."
"That arcade is just old fashioned." Kyrazis said as he watched the numerous arachnids go about repairing the blackened Wraithbone, while recovery drones entered the building to clean up the bodies. "Most of its older players have been there for at least 8 or 9 lifetimes. You heard how even their gassing event was a flop."
"It's crazy how some of those multi-reincarnators can just shrug that stuff off. I couldn't even see straight when I went last decade." His sister replied, finger on her chin in thought.
"They use their psyker abilities to see and move. They even use it to predict shots and make illusions, and use it for their war games."
"That's nothing special. We do it all the time in the arena." She snorted. "We dance around blade and blow. Far more elegant than ducking under cover."
"It's the mind games, and the battle planning. That's the fun of it apparently" He shrugged again. This wasn't his forte. All he had was from listening to one of the players talk about when he'd had a brief interest in ranged weaponry several lifetimes ago. "The tox-gas makes it just a bit more challenging, although even that's boring for them nowadays."
"So, how does that explain the Fusion gun?" She looked up at him, brow furrowed slightly; questioningly.
"Well, I… don't know." A Fusion gun was a weapon that fired superheated particles in a cylindrical short-ranged beam. Using it in a sim-arcade with cover designed to stop only the relatively light razor discs of a Shruiken weapon was against the rules. It provided too big of an advantage in the close-quarters of the arcade, and also nullified most of the point of taking cover. Not to mention that it was a massive fire hazard.
"See?" She put her hands on her waist in a victorious pose. "There's no real reason for it. Just people being idiots."
Kyrazis sighed. There were a lot of rule-breakers recently. Most of them were just minor infractions; a little too much stimulant in an elixir, going too far in a sparring match, or briefly touching places that were off limits during certain intimate sessions. However, there were some in even their part of the city that broke the rules that the various groups set to keep their games fair. Setting fire to an entire arcade with a Fusion gun was definitely getting the offending party black listed from the tower and kicked out of the group; when they all finished reincarnating that is.
"Well, the arcade will be back together by the time we get back." He remarked as the fire extinguishing drones left the premises with the recovery drones, leaving only the repair and cleaning ones to fix the tower. "Fewer players though."
"Only for a century or two, and it'll probably be on fire again before that." She chuckled. True. It was on fire a week ago as well.
"Can't argue with that." Kyrazis chuckled back.
If there was senility for the ageless Aeldari, it would be the rule-breakers. They were usually the Aeldari who'd reincarnated the most, although some entered this category relatively quickly. The endless repetition of pastimes and hobbies eventually got boring. Most went to find another form of entertainment, or advanced to a harder level of said activity. However, there were some who either enjoyed the act of breaking the rules, or lost control of their inhibitions mid-session. For those people, the only places left to go were the alleys, or Commorragh.
"All the food and drink kiosks are gone." His sister commented, and Kyrazis looked around. The white streets were mostly empty; only a few Aedlari like the two of them enjoyed the act of walking. Most used the various skiffs and barges to go from point A to point B. Until a few years ago there were some food stands, kiosks, and other stalls giving out various items for free. It wasn't for money or bartering, but like all things on the Core Worlds, the act was done for simple self-indulgence.
However, all the people who had manned them had already gone; leaving only the bare streets and pedestrians behind.
"Well, it was mostly those vocational idealists that left a few years back in the Craftworlds that were manning them." Kyrazis remarked idly. He never bothered with the kiosks. If they were in the way, he'd either jump over them or knock them flat.
"Oh, you mean those activists?" His sister remarked. "They weren't that bad one on one. Only got annoying when there were groups of them. I even taught one of the young ones who used to make those fruit mixes some grappling moves."
"You mean those drinks that they tried to spread as a replacement for elixirs?" Kyrazis replied, one eyebrow raised.
"They're not bad, taste wise. No kick though."
"Then there's not much point, is there?"
"There's not much point to anything for us. We do what we want, whenever we want. It's the little sideways paths that make things interesting from time to time."
Kyrazis threw his hands up in mock surrender.
"Alright, fine. You're right, and I'm wrong."
"That's not what this is about…" She sighed, before a slightly mocking smile crossed her face. "But I'll take the win."
The two of them continued walking down the street quietly. This city was like any other in the Aeldari Empire. Vast networks of highways, arches, and floating corridors connected bone-white or multicolored towers as a constant flow of different vessels flew overhead in perfect automated unison. Drones crawled or hovered near the Wraithbone of the structure, staying as small and unnoticeable as possible until a problem occurred and they'd zip towards whatever required their attention.
Pedestrians thirsty for a drink would summon a service drone from nearby and pick up whatever beverage or elixir they wanted. Peckish people would take anything they fancied from floating food carts while gardens and planters suspended by either strings or anti-grav pots provided relaxing targets for the eyes to rest on in this megapolis of plenty.
"And here's where we turn to get to the Arena." Kyrazis's sister sighed. Kyrazis allowed himself a half-smile at that.
The slope that descended down from the street led towards a colosseum-like structure below them. However, unlike the unpopulated Main Street, several stalls and gatherings of couches could be seen. The sounds of cheering, talking, and yelling could be heard echoing from all of this below.
"I actually prefer the quiet of Main Street." She said with a fed-up voice.
"You are popular with masseuses." He chuckled. The care his sister took to perfectly balance her physique, even among Aeldari standards, was well noticed by those inside and outside the arena.
"That's what they call themselves." She huffed. "But they just enjoy fondling other people's bodies."
"Not entirely wrong…" Kyrazis shrugged before putting an elbow on her shoulder. "But some of them aren't too bad."
She gave him a look, and he pulled his arm back.
"It's give and take." He said while waving them in front of him, as if to ward off her anger. "One of the few remaining things bartered here."
She continued to glower at him for a few moments before sighing.
"Even in our world of plenty, civilization's oldest commodity is still traded."
"I never said I went that far."
"But you have, haven't you."
Kyrazis looked away at that. That was a statement, not a question.
"I have the right to remain silent."
Even in this lawless society, protection against self-incrimination still existed… at least he hoped it did.
An elbow hit him gently under the ribs.
"We'll see what rights you have once we get back home."
Apparently it didn't, and there were surely no protections for suspects during interrogation.
The person before him was going to be the prosecutor, judge, jury, and executioner. The outcome of the trial was already decided.
"Will the judge be allowing any 'special' allowances for penance?" He whispered in her ear.
If judicial procedure wasn't going to save him, it was time to rely on extra-judicial means.
"That depends on what the accused wishes to offer the court." She cooed back.
"Anything the madam judge may ask of my sorry soul." Kyrazis bowed subserviently for comedic effect, only for her hand to catch him by the chin.
"6 spars after the scheduled matches." She chuckled as a finger tickled his throat. "And no holding back."
"As you wish madam."
"Good boy."
She released his chin, and sashayed away.
Kyrazis rubbed a hand against his neck, thankful that it was figuratively and physically still attached. Although, it might serve him better to keep his thoughts to himself for the time being if he wished for it to remain that way.
The two walked down the slope, past various men and women half-naked in stalls with various bottles and vials of essences, oils, and scents. Some of the stalls were already closed, with the slapping sound of either hard hands or something much softer against skin followed with the occasional moan or gasp.
"Oh, isn't that Kyrazis?" A high-pitched voice called out from behind him.
"..."
Now was definitely not the time to answer that. Any other time he might have turned around and at least waved, but he'd just left his sister's courthouse. Her sentence was a parole with community service, not an innocent verdict. If this went on, it was back to the chopping block for him!
"Hey! Don't ignore me!" The voice squeaked, louder than before.
Kyrazis looked at his sister, and she looked back at him with a cold smile. Well, there was no getting out of this one. Time to say goodbye to another body.
"... Hi, Elarine." Kyrazis turned towards the chestnut haired girl behind him.
"It's rude to ignore people, Kyrazis." She pouted.
Elarine. Masseuse and sometimes partner of Kyrazis. She was shorter than most Aeldari, and exuded a bubbly aura through the psychic net. She and Kyrazis got together because she liked muscles.
"... Ehem!" His sister coughed loudly; angry at being ignored.
"Oh, you're with someone today, Kyrazis?" Elraine tilted her head up at him.
While Kyrazis was coming up with something to say, his sister took two steps forward, elbowed him out of the way and loomed over the smaller girl.
"I'm his sister." She said flatly.
"Hi! I'm Elraine." The girl replied brightly, utterly unfazed. "Wow, you have some good arms. Why don't you come to my stall! I'll be gentle. Promise!"
Correction. She really liked muscles.
Kyrazis sighed, as he saw a vein begin to pop out of his sister's forehead. Elarine wasn't malicious, merely focussed on two things and two things only; muscles and touching muscles. It wasn't that rare to find an Aeldari who was utterly engrossed in something. It did, however, make them almost oblivious to everything else.
'I really shouldn't have told her I'd let her touch my muscles if she let me do anything to her.' Kyrazis thought to himself, pinching the bridge of his nose at the memory. It had been a spur of the moment thing when the buzz of the relaxation ampoules still hadn't left his system.
Of course, Elraine being Elarine took him up on his word, and ever since then the two of them had a loose give and take relationship.
"Oh… just look at these flexor and extensor muscles. The perfect ratios for striking and jabbing."
Kyrazis looked back at the two of them to see Elarine latched onto his sister's left arm with both hands, almost rubbing her cheek against it. His sister's right arm was already reaching for the dagger kept at her belt.
"Okay, Elarine!" Kyrazis said, pulling her off his sister. "We're sort of busy at the moment. Our initiates have a match today, and we're almost late."
"Aww… That's too bad." She sighed, holding her hands behind her back. "But it would be a waste if you lost your current bodies in the pits. There's no guarantee you'll have the same skeletal or muscular structure next time, and it would be such a waste."
"Yeah." Kyrazis managed a strained smile, as his sister continued to glare at her. "Right. See you later."
He put an arm on his sister's shoulder, and half-dragged her away to the arena.
"Why did you stop me?" His sister huffed once they were out of sight.
"We've got a match to watch, remember? It would be uncomfortable to watch with blood all over." Kyrazis replied, letting her go. "Also, it's better to watch with a clear head; whichever way it goes."
"You sure you weren't just protecting her?"
Kyrazis sighed as his sister stepped in front of him to face him, arms crossed.
"She's reincarnated more times than either of us. Neither pain nor death affect her at all." He sighed. "I've seen her get killed at least 4 different times. Every time, she just comes back in a new body, quirks and all."
"Is she a rule-breaker?"
Kyrazis chuckled a little at that.
"Social rules? Definitely. But, she's the relatively harmless type. The only one who sufferers from her actions is herself."
"You sure?" His sister lifted an eyebrow.
"..."
Correction. Kyrazis was currently in a sticky situation because of Elarine. Perhaps she wasn't as harmless as he'd thought.
"Once we get back home, you're showing me everything the two of you did to each other."
"Yes Ma'am"
His sister nodded once, and then resumed walking.
A stay of execution had been arranged, but it was very likely that it might be carried out that evening.
'Well… let's hope the match is exciting enough that she forgets everything.' Kyrazis sighed internally, and jogged to catch up with her.
—-
The match was not very exciting.
'Of course it wouldn't be.' He thought to himself as he took a sideways look at his sister sitting next to him in the stands. Her bored look told him everything he needed to know.
'Well, at least we came with clear heads.' He thought to himself. Some of the other viewers were already hurling insults and abuse at the two in the arena, most likely having been excited by the previous match or some other form of violence before coming here.
"Amateurs." She muttered. "I can feel their emotions all the way up here."
Kyrazis nodded. All Aeldari could communicate to some degree with their psychic abilities, but it wasn't always useful. In a combat setting, telling an opponent how panicked you were by their attack only told them where you were weakest. Most of the followers of Qa'leh were taught how to hold back their thoughts and feelings, but these initiates still released puffs of fear and exhilaration into the psychic net with every strike.
It would have been fine if those feelings were feints; fake emotional outbursts to lure an opponent in, or bluff them into taking an unnecessary guard position to catch one's breath. Both Kyrazis and his sister could do that, having had several lifetimes worth of practice in the arena. But, he could see from the way every emotion mirrored their movements, that they were not that experienced.
"There are a lot of them around nowadays, aren't there?" His sister suddenly asked him.
Kyrazis tilted his head, and she furrowed her brow in exasperation.
"Rule-breakers. There are a lot of them."
"Oh… I guess there are."
"The sim-battle arena, that girl from earlier, and those idiots over there." She pointed to a spot across the arena where a brawl had started to form in the stands. "I wouldn't be surprised that they're the reason those Seers keep on predicting the end of our Empire."
"Maybe." Kyrazis shrugged. "But if we all became like that, then it wouldn't matter if the Empire existed or not. Nobody would be left to care."
"Thanks for being a massive downer." She sighed.
"It's a fact."
The match ended, and the two of them cheered loudly with the rest of the crowd, if only to show their arena mistress that they were present.
As the next contestants walked into the arena, the two of them watched the spokesman from a noble complete the pretend ceremony of giving permission for the match to proceed with the royalty's blessing.
"Is there any point to those people?" Kyrazis huffed.
"Well, not really." His sister replied, head resting on one hand. "They sometimes pretend to announce the news or some event to the city, but all the information is already on the psychic net anyways."
"Do people still listen to them?"
"No idea." She shrugged. "But, they show up in enough events or announcements that most people would recognize all of them."
"I think the clothes are the most recognizable part of them."
"You really weren't one to stand for ceremony, weren't you?"
"It's boring."
Silence continued between them as the next match between their class's initiates proceeded as boring as the one previous.
Kyrazis stifled a yawn. This fight was uneventful, and his sister seemed to be in a weirdly pensive mood.
'Sleepy…' he thought to himself. At this rate, he would nod off, and possibly even miss the end of the match. Their arena mistress didn't take too kindly to students who slept in the arena.
Kyrazis checked where the arena mistress was seated to ensure her attentions were pointed away from the stands and at the match below before opening his psychic sight.
'Just need to see when the match ends, and wake up just before it does.' He checked the future, and saw the spokesman announce the victor 10 minutes from now.
'10 minutes… well, better than nothing.'
Closing his psychic vision, Kyrazis glanced at his sister. She was still watching the match with a bored expression. Her hair was draped to one side, exposing her neck towards him.
He reached out, touched the skin, and enjoyed its smooth warmth.
His sister remained motionless; neither shying away or slapping his hand.
He reached out with his other hand, and placed it around her throat, holding it in both hands. Warmth spread through his palms, and he could feel the rushing of blood underneath the skin. Slight amounts of sweat stuck his hands to her throat, giving the illusion that he had fused himself into her.
Cartilage shifted underneath his fingers, and he felt the resistance of bone underneath skin and muscle.
"...zis…"
A voice sounded near his face, but he couldn't understand the words. His body felt hot, and thoughts murky. The sensation from his hands was all that mattered.
"…yrazis…"
He looked up, and saw his sister's face. It was contorted in pain and fear, but the balance between the two was constantly changing. Gaping mouth, and eyes would narrow as his hands squeezed, and then relax as he loosened them for a moment to let a little air through her throat. He could feel her struggle beneath him, knee pushed against his chest in an attempt to push him off.
Suddenly, he felt cold. A chilling sensation that started from his very core, and froze his body.
Death.
She was dying.
But, he did not want her to die.
Death had no meaning for them.
They could do this as many times as they wanted.
But, he could feel it.
From the intertwined soul he shared with the woman beneath him, he knew that any further meant the end. Even if everything he knew told him it wasn't, it was obvious to him that it was.
His body shook, as if the cold he felt from his sister had infected him as well; yet his fingers continued crushing her throat against his wishes, as if someone had wrapped another set of hands around his own, forcing them to squeeze even harder.
'Somebody… Anybody! Please! Stop me!'
"Kyrazis!"
His sister's voice startled him, and his grip loosened.
THWACK
A fist slammed into his face, and he was knocked back.
"Cough! Cough!... wheeze…"
As his sister recovered her breath, Kyrazis slowly dragged himself up onto all fours, and vomited.
Something was wrong. Why did he do that? What was going on?
Questions bubbled up in his brain, only to be washed away by another wave of nausea as the contents of his stomach splashed out onto the stairs of the stand and sweat soaked his body.
"Are you… alright?"
His sister patted him on the back.
"Your eyes… that wasn't you… Kyrazis, what…"
She fell silent, and as Kyrazis's senses slowly recentered themselves, his ears told him why.
Screaming. Shouting. The sounds of splashing blood and breaking bones were starting up all around them.
He turned, and the small brawl on the other side of the arena had already spread throughout the building. Aeldari fought each other with their bare hands, broken bits of seating, and parts of guardrails; using them like clubs and spears.
"We have to go…" Kyrazis whispered. "Help me up." He felt his sister slip his arm around her shoulder, and drag him up the stairs towards the exit.
His entire body felt heavy, as if the very life-force within it had been sucked out of him.
A man fell in their path, eyes gouged out and throat torn open. The perpetrator stepped in their path. Nails and teeth broken, she looked half-dead herself, but her grinning face and rabid eyes were alive with an alien look of ecstasy.
The woman jumped at them, head first.
With his last bit of strength, Kyrazis thrust his left arm forwards, striking her in the neck with his palm. The Spiked Kiss sunk under the skin, and opened up. Blood spurted out, covering the entire left side of Kyrazis's body, and both he and the woman tumbled down the stairs.
"Kyrazis!"
He heard his sister cry out for him as he rolled away from her.
Then he felt something pulse throughout his body. Strength returned to his limp limbs, allowing him to grab the railing next to him and untangle himself from the corpse.
"Are you alright?!"
"I'm fine!" He shouted back. "Let's go!"
The two of them ran up the stairs, past other fights and brawls.
"What is going on?!" He hissed.
"I don't know." She replied, running slightly in front of him. "But, whatever it is, it spread to everyone in the stands."
"What should we do? There's at least a few thousand people here. We can't fight our way through that."
They ran up the stairs to one of the exits to the stands that led to an exterior windowed hallway that encircled the entire arena.
Kyrazis heard a familiar high pitched whine.
Grabbing his sister by the shoulders, he dove to the ground as the crystalline window pane next to him shattered, spraying shards over them as small glowing disks embedded themselves in the opposite wall.
"It might be even worse than we think." She muttered darkly.
Those were Shuriken rounds, and nobody brought ranged weapons into the arena.
"Has everyone on the planet gone insane?!" He shouted, crawling up off the floor, crouching beneath the windowsill.
"I don't know." She shook her head. "We've got to…"
MINE
A silent shriek slammed into his skull, and forced him to the ground. He briefly saw his sister reaching towards him yelling something, then his vision was filled with pink and purple as he felt something wrap around him.
A wet feeling splashed against his chest, and he felt like he was both on fire and freezing at the same time.
MINE
He screamed. It was digging into his skull; forcing him to open up to it. His psychic sight was being forced open, the barriers he kept to hide his feelings and thoughts were being torn apart.
He saw it, and every hair on his body stood on end as he tried to close his mind to it.
Nausea and thirst tore at his throat as his stomach tried to throw up in disgust, while his mouth watered at the sight before him.
He had to stop looking.
He had to stop hearing.
He had to stop feeling.
Any further, and he would not return.
Kyrazis drew back, pure fear of whatever that was cutting the connection as he withdrew like a child running to a dark corner to hide from a stranger.
Slowly, the visions and noises dispersed as his mind reinforced the barriers that kept him separate from the psychic net.
He shook his head, back from whatever hell that was, returned to the hallway of the arena. His sister was watching over him, worried look crossing her face as he struggled to get back to his feet; limbs shaking like a newborn fawn.
"We have to run." He said.
That voice left no room for question. It was coming for him. Even though he had escaped it, he could feel it just outside his mental barriers, like some nameless sea creature circling a stranded swimmer.
There was a crash outside, and more screaming could be heard from the broken window.
"Where do we go?" His sister asked, as they resumed their crouched walk along the hallway. "The Webway?"
Kyrazis shook his head. "The nearest gate leads to Commorragh. If it's as bad there as it is here…"
There was a flash, and the other windows shattered as an explosive shockwave smashed into the arena. The two of them ducked, eyes shut to prevent them from being blinded by the light.
As the ringing in their ears subsided, Kyrazis peaked out. Whoever had been shooting at them was closer than they were to the explosion. They would be dead, or at the very least incapacitated.
He saw smoke rising up in the distance along with a number of collapsing towers.
"That's where the gate to Commorragh was." His sister said quietly, peeking out with him.
"Then the only way off the planet is by voidship." Kyrazis scanned the outside of the arena. Numerous bodies were scattered all across the street. Nobody was moving.
"The nearest harbor is within walking distance." His sister stood up, and started climbing out the window. "We have to hurry. If there are others like us, they'll probably head to the same place."
They looked down at the long drop below them. Kyrazis grimaced, and stepped up onto the windowsill.
"Ready?" His sister asked.
He nodded, and they jumped down into the broken remains of the city they had just walked through that morning.
