Darkness

Dasan always knew that his position as the leader of his people would make him a target. But, when he's rescued by a face from his past, he realised that death was the least of his problems

Darkness. There was darkness everywhere around him�"or was the darkness in his own mind? He didn’t know. The last thing he remembered�"

He thrashed as he realised he couldn’t remember anything. The more he chased the memories, the more they slid through his hands. He thrashed harder. He knew, deep down, that he had to get out. That there was something he had to do. Something important.

The darkness didn’t like that. It pulled him deeper and deeper and he felt it wash away the little awareness he had. He tried to scream. He knew once it was gone, he’d stop fighting. He’d remain in this darkness forever. 

Help me! Someone, help me! Please!

Suddenly, he jerked to a stop. Something warm wrapped around him. A light that banished the darkness and pulled him upwards. 

I have you, a voice said in his mind.

The words made something warm in his soul.

He reached towards the light. Strangely, he could feel something in the light. Something that felt like an injury. Instinctively, he reached out to soothe it and he felt the light shudder in relief.

 I have you, too, he replied.

Then, he felt something snap into place as light engulfed him.

 

***

 

The first thing that he registered was pain. Waves of pain that crashed over him with each breath. He couldn’t scream, couldn’t move, couldn’t do anything but ride it out. Eventually, the waves subsided into something he could tolerate �" barely. Then came the memories. They trickled into his head and filled in the horrifying emptiness. His name, his name was Dasan Crepuscular. The leader of his people. Their Zo’eza. He had a soul-mark on his chest that bound him to �" well, he didn’t really want to think about the man it bound him to. It hurt too much.

 

 There were other memories that flooded into his head, until it felt like it would burst. He cried out and then cried out again as the action made the pain spike. He tried to get up, looking for something to stop the pain.

A cool hand gently forced him back down.

“Lie still. You’re safe.”

Safe? When was I in danger? he wondered.

He remembered the darkness and the dazzling light that saved him, but what had happened before that? He couldn’t remember. Why couldn’t he remember?

“What happened?” he gritted out.

Tears pricked in his eyes. His throat felt drier than the deserts that surrounded his home.

“You need to rest,” the voice said firmly.

He tried to move again, but the attempts were pathetic. He was weaker than a new-born. A cold feeling settled in his stomach. He’d never been this weak before.

 

He opened his eyes and hissed at the bright light.

Someone swore and he heard curtains being tugged along a rail as the light dimmed.

“I’m sorry about that,” the voice apologised.

Dasan didn’t respond. Instead, he breathed deeply and forced open his eyes. He hissed but he willed himself to keep his eyes open as he took in his surroundings. He was in a room, one with smooth walls made from pale wood. There was one window in the room, with thick vermillion curtains that had now been drawn across the window, and only one door. Shelves ran across the whole room and on them rested various jars and vials, a few bandages, a sewing kit and some long wooden splints. There was a side table beside Dasan and it had a jug of water and a cup on it. Dasan breathed in. The air smelt of brine and some smell that was vaguely familiar to him. After a few moments, he realised it was the smell he usually found in healer’s rooms.

 

His eyes continued to move around the room until they fell on the other occupant. He was a young boy, no older than twelve winters old, if Dasan was to guess. He had dark skin and dark hair and was currently writing on a piece of paper. The boy looked up as he felt Dasan’s eyes on him. Dasan’s heart stuttered. The boy’s eyes were solid silver. And that face�"by the Grey Lady, it was the face of his younger self.

“Reflection,” he snarled, and then broke off coughing as the word aggravated his dry throat.

The boy �" creature �" blinked and then reached for the jug of water beside him.

“Here let me�"”

Dasan glared at it. “Stay back.”

 

The creature flinched. Then, the door swung open and a man stepped into the room.

“Alder, why don’t you run along to your siblings? I can handle this from here,” he suggested.

The creature nodded and scampered out the door. The man sighed and Dasan felt anxiety fill the room. Then, the man lifted his gaze and Dasan felt the world drop out from beneath him.

“Rhett?” he breathed.

Sure enough, it was Rhett. His soulmate. Dasan would recognise that copper hair and those blue-green eyes anywhere, even if his soul mark hadn’t decided to flare excitedly in the man’s presence.

 

Dasan’s eyes roved over the man as he stood in the doorway. He’d grown into his height, Dasan realised. He was no longer the gangly youth he’d been when they’d first met. But, then, Dasan wasn’t the same teen he’d been either. 

Rhett nodded. “Greetings, Zo’eva Dasan.”

Dasan swallowed hard. “You’re supposed to be�"” he broke off as another coughing fit hit him.

 

Rhett moved quickly across the room. He grabbed the jug, poured a cup and held it to Dasan’s lips. The water poured into his throat and Dasan gulped greedily. He hadn’t realised how thirsty he was. He finished the cup and almost whined as Rhett pulled it away from him.

“Not too much,” Rhett said gently. “You haven’t had anything in your stomach for a while and I don’t think your body can handle that.”

The cold feeling grew stronger.

“What are you talking about? How are you here? You’re dead.”

“No, I’m afraid reports of my death were greatly exaggerated.”

He waited, but Rhett said nothing more. He glared at him.

“Fine. Keep your secrets. What do you mean that my body can’t handle it?”

Rhett pressed his lips together. He sat down in the chair that the creature had just vacated.

After a moment, he steepled his fingers together and asked, “What is the last thing you remember?”

 

Dasan closed his eyes and tried to think. His head pounded, but he tried to focus through the pain. Slowly, details trickled into his mind. 

“I-I was at a meeting. With Vrena. Something about trade agreements with our neighbouring country. I-I think people came into the room, but I’m not sure . . . It’s all muddled . . .”

Rhett sighed and Dasan opened his eyes again. Rhett’s eyes were heavy with pain and Dasan knew he wasn’t going to like what he was going to hear.

 “It’s muddled because you disappeared right after that meeting ended. I contacted your clan when I heard about it. Apparently, the refreshments were drugged and Vrena arranged it so that a group took you away.”

“Who?”

“I don’t know. No one does �" at least, no one living.”

Dasan shoved down his horror even as he asked, “Took me? Took me where?”

“To an island in the Maelstrom sea. One that isn’t on our maps.”

 

Dasan swallowed hard; his throat was dry but for an entirely different reason.

“Why?”

Rhett looked away. “You know, as the Zo’eza, you are connected to all of your people via a soul bond?”

He nodded. It was common knowledge that as the Zo’eza, he was bond to his people by the dazzling web of soul-bonds that he could see whenever he turned his attention inwards.

“As are you, Be’eza Rhett,” Dasan added

Before, when Dasan had given him the title, Rhett had gone wild, saying that he never could claim the title because he wasn’t one of Dasan’s people. Now, the man only shifted uncomfortably and continued.

“Well, yes. But, on a practical level, it means that you are the doorway to a potentially limitless source of soul energy since whoever harvests your soul energy could harvest the energy from all the bonds. That means that you are a powerful commodity for those who wish to delve into . . . darker magics.”

I was right, Dasan thought with an edge of hysteria. I don’t like what I’m hearing.

 

“What kind of darker magics?”

“Making Reflections. Usually, a person only has enough energy for two or three Reflections, but you . . .”

He trailed off as horror rose in Dasan. “How many?”

“Zo’eza . . .”

“How many?” he repeated angrily.

Rhett exhaled slowly. “Over twenty one thousand at my last count. We’re still removing some from their cocoons.”

Dasan blanched. Thousands of those creatures feeding off of his soul? He struggled to push himself up.

“You have to help me. We have to exterminate those creatures�"”

The air suddenly crackled with energy and Rhett’s eyes flashed. “Those ‘creatures’ are my children.”

 

Then, Dasan caught sight of the braids: one on either side of Rhett’s face. There were three beads on each braid and two stones set on each bead.

By the Grey Lady, he’s a Master.

The most powerful level of mage that could exist.

Dasan stared. “How�"how can you think of those things as your children? As human?”

 

“Because they are,” Rhett snapped.

Dasan snorted. He’d encountered Reflections before. They looked human enough, other than the silver eyes. But, they were crude, automatons with no true thoughts, no souls.

Rhett scowled at him. “I admit that most Reflections are poor shadows of true life. But, it seems that the Reflections made from your soul energy �" the soul energy of each and every one of your people �" have true life. Their auras are as vibrant as yours or mine and they have personalities, thoughts, dream, ambitions . . . they are children in every possible way.”

Dasan clenched his teeth. Children weren’t born from cocoons. No matter what Rhett claimed, they would never be true children.

 

Something of his thoughts must have shown in his face, because Rhett’s scowl deepened and he let out a frustrated sigh.

“You’re as close-minded as ever, I see.”

“And you’re as soft-hearted as ever.”

The air crackled once again as Rhett leant forward. “Do not mistake my kindness for weakness, Zo’eva.”

Dasan hated the way his soul mark flared at Rhett’s sudden proximity . . . or the way his stomach tightened.

“You’ve learnt a few things, I see,” he said as his eyes flicked to Rhett’s braids.

“A few things,” Rhett acknowledged.

“How did the other mages convince you to give up the soul bond?”

Even as he asked, he realised how stupid the question was. He could feel the soul mark flaring as he spoke.

 

Rhett glanced away. “They . . . they didn’t.”

“Oh?”

Rhett continued. “When my soul mark appeared, it was . . . everything made sense. I felt . . . whole. Complete. I felt like me. I couldn’t give it up. But, I couldn’t stop being a mage either.”

“The Order would reject you if they knew you kept your soul mark.”

Rhett’s eyes flashed. “They did. They did and I wandered until . . . well, you don’t need to know that.”

Dasan gritted his teeth, needing to know what happened to Rhett and hating that he did.

“So, you still have your soul mark?”

“Yes.”

But, there was something in Rhett’s eyes�"something like guilt.

“What aren’t you telling me?” Dasan asked as the cold feeling in his stomach returned.

“You . . . you were in a suspended trance when I found you. I tried everything I knew to try and wake you, but nothing worked. So . . . so I used the one connection that tied us together and�"”

“You activated the soul bond?”

“Yes.”

Dasan shook his head. It wasn’t true. It couldn’t be true. He wouldn’t have violated Dasan like that. Rhett was better than that.

“No. It’s not. If it was, I’d be feeling your emotions, thoughts . . . no. It’s not active.”

“Zo’eza. I’m shielding the bond from you. You just woke up and�"”

“You really did it?”

Rhett’s shoulders slumped. “ . . . yes.”

“How dare you! How dare you take a sacred bond and taint it with your vile magics? How dare you take something so precious and turn it into a convenient tool!”

Dasan’s skin crawled and bile surged up his throat. For a moment, his chest tightened with pain and anger that wasn’t his own.

Then, it was gone as Rhett asked, “Would you have preferred that I leave you to die?”

“Yes. Death is better than this . . . violation.”

 

Rhett clenched his jaw. “I see.”

He stood up and headed to the door. “I’ll be back before sunset so that we can discuss your recovery.”

Then he left. Dasan was alone with only his thoughts for company.

 

 

Author's Note

So, I have a tradition of uploading stories on my birthday, but since I'm struggling to deal with my grief, even now, I thought I'd upload something older.

I'm curious to see what people think, since I'm not sure if this could become a full-length novella or something.

If you like my writing, please check out my original collection of short stories that can be bought at https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/1157168 The support (and extra cash) would be greatly appreciated.
You can also commission me to write stories for your characters via DA and the following link: https://www.deviantart.com/celestialink/journal/Commissions-919556115