Disagreement

Noreus Cestorn stands atop a tall cliff and looks down upon the Seraphic settlement of Providence. Far in the distance, off to the east, the megalith in the center of Azuria city is just visible. Cestorn laughs without humor. Maybe the Azurians will come and help… not that it will make any difference. The power he commands, now, is without weakness. There is no hope for his enemies.

Far below, countless little streams weave a pattern around long, low hills, the few communal buildings nestled in the stand of ancient trees off to the west. Farmers and children can be seen, leaving the fields for the evening, the bustle of the agrarian Seraph life drawing to a halt for now. It’s very quiet, from up here.

Cestorn frowns. Children. No reason they should be punished… but a strange buzzing fills his head for just a moment, and when he’s done shaking it away, he’s already changed his mind. They’ll just grow into wicked old fools, like all the others. Best to do away with them now.

He turns around to face the… creature, standing at attention, as well as it’s kind can. “This is the place.” Holding aloft the twisted little device, plundered from the twisted temple on that tiny, frozen island, he commands the tall, lanky thing to observe. “This is where we begin.” As it moves forward, jerking and twitching and clicking, he takes a moment to examine it, amazed as always that such a thing might exist.

Eight feet tall, taller than the largest Seraph, and hunched over menacingly, the creature appears made from some kind of flaky, refractive crystal and steel. Disproportionately long arms and legs hang from a broad-shouldered but narrow-waisted torso, topped by a long, stretched-out skull-like face. The thing has no mouth, but the structure that would be it’s jaw falls almost to its midsection, narrowing almost to a point.

The metal-thing is unadorned, save for the four glowing, low-browed eyes set into its face like luminescent jewels. They are the same crystalline material as the rest of the thing, but polished to a reflective luster.

In all, the creature from the sky cuts a threatening, almost mythological figure. For his purposes, that suits Cestorn just fine. Let his quarry believe they are being divinely punished. It might as well be the truth.

A dozen more of them are waiting, somewhat more hunched, a few yards away. For some reason, they always send one to commune with him, and the rest just stand there, motionless and without expression. Not that they have the most expressive faces to begin with.

The only drawback to using such things is the way they crumble after several hours. The dust they become seems to be made of some kind of salt or silica, and he has no doubt that it’s poisonous to the ground. So be it. He is committed, at this juncture, to scouring all life from this misbegotten world. If the plants suffer for it, so much the better. Life is life. Everything is a target.

When he speaks, his throat feels dry and tickled. His voice comes in an unfamiliar rasp. Still, he manages to make himself understood.

“Kill them all. No one escapes. Go.”

* * *

Evan North places his face is his hands and sighs. This is ridiculous.

The meeting at Sebastean’s ampitheatre-like round assembly room is nothing but a neverending debate. There seems to be an even split between people who are prepared to retake Halfmoon Grove by force, and people who are unwilling to fight and would rather just move back in, trusting the Seraphic presence to eventually disperse, having not found their target.

And somehow, this reasonable argument has dissolved into little more than angry, increasingly personal shouting.

“It’s pointless to fight!” A Pteros girl shouts, unusually emotional for her race, in fact beginning to tear up. “They won’t stay forever! And they only want Sebastean, it’s not like they’re hurting any of us!”

Oden stands at that comment, eyes bright with anger, dangerously close, it seems, to Channeling out of frustration. “And what about Sebastean, then? Or the rest of us? Me, and Kari and Aelia and Evan? Tyrone and Sylvia and Drachma? Should we just give up on going home?”

“That’s not fair! You were the ones who fought them in the first place!”

“We defended ourselves!” Tyrone shouts. “Those b******s came on a holiday and tried to kidnap our friend, we weren’t just going to sit around!”

“They were just following their religion, what do you expect?” someone shouts. The room falls somewhat closer to silent at that, astonished whispers being the only sound for a handful of seconds.

Evan shares a glance with Aelia, both of their eyebrows raised. Evan nearly says something, but is shouted down by Oden, on his feet again.

“Who the f**k said that? That’s the dumbest damn thing I’ve ever heard! How stupid would someone have to be to accept that kind of reasoning? You honestly think they have the right to steal or kill our people just because they don’t like the idea of an interracial baby?”

Nobody responds for a moment. Then, the same strong female voice rings out, somewhere in the back. “They have the right to live as they choose. They honestly believe they’re doing the right thing. We have to understand that before we do anything else.”

This is apparently too much for Oden, now glaring around with hints of flame dancing at his eyes. “Seriously, who’s the dumbass? Come out and talk to my face, traitor. Come out and tell me you’d throw my friend to the hounds because they’re hungry.”

And Kari emerges from a small crowd, a sneer on her usually charming face. “I’m glad I know where you stand. You are certainly a wordsmith, when you get fired up. I’m surprised at you.”

And she storms out, leaving a stunned and stammering Oden standing there like a post. The flames in his eyes burn out, and his mouth hangs open. After a brief silence, Oden calls after her, shoving his way past a few grinning observers, trying to catch up with Kari. Evan knows he won’t; catching Kari is like catching smoke. It’s just not going to happen. He hopes they don’t damage the Retreat.

“So much for them,” someone laughs, someone else responds rudely, and the whole roar of argument starts up again. Aelia shakes her head. “This is crazy. What,” she shouts, “about Providence? The people there have been sending messages for hours, something is wrong there! They may need help!”

“Those ‘people’ are Seraphs! Who cares if they’re in trouble?”

Thankfully, the whole ruckus screeches to a halt when Sebastean speaks. Channeling, shadowy light leaping from his inky eyes, he shouts unnaturally loud, “ENOUGH!” and the room falls silent, waiting. His skin and hair, Evan notices, have shifted back into their threatening, vampiric original shades.

“This meeting was not meant to be a debate. We were not here to vote on a course of action, or to try to convince anyone to change their own minds. All I wanted to do was see what the groups were going to be. Now I know. So now, here’s what’s going to happen.”

He looks over at where Oden had been standing, at a pack of angry-looking Channelers, and a few others. “Anyone who wants to come with me, and take back Halfmoon Grove, is obviously welcome. All I ask is that you be able to commit and able to follow orders. This will be a military operation and I will require discipline.”

Next, he adresses those on the opposite side of the room. “Anyone who wishes to stay out of the fight can either stay here, or head for other settlements. Odds are, if you weren’t a target before, you won’t be now. Just know that those of us who do fight might not be pleased with you, when you come to live in Halfmoon after we’ve retaken it.”

Grumbles greet that comment, but Sebastean ignores them, instead locking eyes with Aelia. “And Aelia, I don’t know where you were when the Priesthood was kidnapping us and trying to kill us, but I’m not sure why you give a damn about Providence. Your home is in danger. Your friends are in danger. That’s not like you.”

She doesn’t bat an eye. “I’m not willing to turn my back on anyone. You and Oden and everyone else are more than enough to fight for Halfmoon. It’ll be a bloodbath and I want no part of it. In the meantime, I need to see what I can do to protect people who might just be innocent. Remember innocent? We were, once.”

“All right, run away and play detective. Just don’t take any of the fighting boats. We’ll need them to get your house back.”

Evan speaks up, surprising himself. “That’s messed up, Sebastean! Aelia and all these people took you in, and they’ve protected you for years! Have some respect!”

He almost backs down when confronted with the cold, annoyed gaze. “Interesting point. Since you’ve been here all of three months, you must know everything about the situation. Remember your first fight? Who protected you? And who wasn’t there? Don’t presume to tell me who’s been defending who.”

Evan doesn’t know how to respond to that. It’s an obvious shot at Aelia. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees her, shaking with fury. “Ellie, cool down. I’ll come with you.”

She turns, apparently startled by the nickname, and the statement itself. “What?”

“I’ll come to Providence. You don’t need to be alone, and these guys don’t need my help. I’m next to useless in a fight, anyway.”

Aelia opens her mouth to say something, but the Pteros girl shouts angrily “Dze je tu’ala! I’ll screw you, too, if that’s what it takes to get your help! Think with your brain!”

Evan lunges towards the girl, but Sebastean puts out a hand silencing her. “Shut up, Selik. They can do what they want. I just finished saying so.” He looks at Evan and Aelia, who’re both red in the face. “But if they run off to help Seraphs, and we get killed… well, they won’t be too pleased with themselves. That’ll have to be enough for us.”

He locks eyes with Evan. “And if we don’t… well, we get our home back, and Evan still gets laid. So everyone wins.” A cruel grin cracks his pale face. “Would you call that a win-win, Evan?”

Evan isn’t aware of leaping across the round room, and only just comes to himself in time to realize he’s swinging a fist at Sebastean’s fanged mouth. He realizes, briefly, that he’s making a mistake.

Sebastean bats Evan’s punch aside, eyes lighting up with blackness. “I’ve been wondering if this might happen,” he murmurs in Evan’s ear, inches away. “Now see what’s it’s like to be the bad guy.” He stares directly into Evan’s eyes with his twin black holes, and the world falls away to screams.

Evan is swallowed into nothing, screaming soundlessly into a void, feeling his skin crack and shear away in the razor cold, his eyes explode and his heart stops, every bone in his body splinters and spears through his skin, and all the while the death screams of a thousand victims, the last exclaimations of the violenty dying, are ringing in his ears-

-and he snaps out of the illusion, collapsing to the floor in a twitching heap, barely retaining awareness. People back away, shouting, and all the while Sebastean simply stands over Evan, looking down with distaste. Aelia is the first to reach him, having followed his impulsive attack, knowing what was going to happen.

“Sebastean! How dare you use your power on him? What’s the matter with you?” Her voice is tight with barely-controlled fury. “Evan, are you all right?”

He’s not, but of course he can’t admit to being affected so profoundly. Not in front of Sebastean. “I’m good. Got a little dark for a second.” It had felt like hours. He climbs to his feet, looking Sebastean in the face, trying to match the glare. “Now I know how you’re always outfighting those Seraphs. I could beat you too, if you were blind and deaf and frozen.”

His knees feel boneless. The deep chill of the shadow magic is still in his bones, somehow real despite the illusion. Still, he summons the willpower to turn his back on Sebastean and the gaggle of stunned Channelers. Leaving the room, Aelia seething at his side, he glances one more time at his friend, who suddenly seems less like a friend and more like a threat.

“Evan,” Sebastean growls, “I hope you’re not abandoning us for her. I care about Aelia too, but a bunch of Seraphs off in the wilderness aren’t our problem. There are Seraphs here we can take care of. We need you here.”

“You need help, that’s damn sure. Good luck. Maybe I’ll see you, when we come back. I hope things work out.” Evan holds himself up against a support pole, thankful for the assistance. “I hope you’ve stopped attacking everyone who disagrees with you by then. If not… I’ll be there to stop you.”

Sebastean regards him for a moment, quizzical. “Are you serious? Didn’t you just… okay. Fine. Sounds good. It’s nice to know someone’s looking out for me. Have fun bleeding for the Seraphs.”

Evan and Aelia turn, Evan beginning to regain his coordination and strength at last. As they make their way up the walkway to their room, Evan hears Sebastean’s ringing voice resume the battle planning.

“Alright, I’d been sort of counting on having those two with us… we’ll have to make some adjustments…”

“Evan, seriously, are you okay?” Aelia murmurs, out of hearing range of the meeting, looking concerned and angry.

“I feel like… well, the short answer is I think I just exploded. I didn’t know he could do that.” Evan shudders at the memory. Had he really only been in that blackness for an instant? He wonders what a full minute might feel like.

“He can sort of hypnotize people, I guess. It’s like a forced hallucination. Sometimes he does it as a joke, he made me see pink gretches once when I’d had too much to drink. But I’ve never seen anyone… scream… like that.”

“Well that’s embarassing.”

“I don’t blame you. I’m furious with him right now… thank you for saying you’d come with me, I appreciate you trying to make me look good. Helping strangers is an unpopular stance lately.”

“I meant it,” Evan says earnestly, “I’m coming. Especially after that stunt. I don’t know if I could be around him, for now.”

She looks sideways at him before starting up the narrow stairs. “Are you sure? I can drop you off in Azuria on the way, there’s no call for you to get involved at Providence.”

“Why not? I can be useful. I want to help. Maybe by the time we get there you can teach me how to use a sword properly.” He laughs humorlessly. “Guess I’ll be needing it, soon.”

“Well, I’ll try, but I’m really only used to my knives. Ugh, I can’t believe we’re talking about this. Come to bed, we’ll discuss slicing folks up in the morning.”

Evan’s stomach seems to go somewhere else at the words ‘come to bed’, but nothing of that sort happens. Still, he thrills at sharing space with her.

He tries to stay awake and watch her, to occasionally reach out and brush a lock of snowy hair away from her lips, but the day’s exertions and the night’s outrages take their toll at last. Evan falls asleep with one of her slender hands cradled between his.

There are no dreams.

* * *

Somewhere else in the Universe, a door clicks and opens and an autumn breeze pours in, washing over Erin’s contorted face. Her fingers tighten on the handle of a kitchen knife.

Her eyes narrow at the sight of the two people, hand in hand, coming in from the evening to sneak up to her room.

It’s time to feel again.