“Who are you?” Aden’s voice echoed against the hushed wind as he looked at the child kneeling before the deer statue. “Ailan…” he whispered under his breath as if it would make a difference. As if it would help him recognize him. “Accept the Ledanai’i,” the woman’s voice once again resounded across the scene he was looking at.
“What?” said Aden, as he tried to make sense of what was happening.
“Serve me, child…” there it was again.
The boy’s eyes were filled with nothing but determination and solemn resolve. “I will,” he said.
Then the statue burned. Bright red fire, bursting from its eyes, then it rapidly crawled to the figure’s antlers. It blinded Aden; his vision suddenly consumed by the flash.
Aden walked—seemingly endlessly—across the red, empty sky. His only companion, he had just killed a few hours ago. The man. The god who attacked him. Yes, he was alone now. No Ramu. No thunderous voice. Not even the memories… have come back. Just him, on that endless, red desert. His only comfort was the sound he made as he paced across the solemn sands. Where was he supposed to go now? He thought. And how was this supposed to end? He had lost the energy. And he had almost lost any emotion. After what he had just seen, after what he had just heard. After seeing himself in that last, manifesting picture. After seeing himself… as Ailan. After that last manifestation of a memory. Nothing else had come up. The void had become increasingly barren. Without the voices that led him, and the scenes they showed him. What was he going to do now? He asked himself. Was this what Ramu was talking about? Before the void continued to show more of itself and his stories, did
Aden watched as if everything happened in almost a frozen pace. It was just that his mind could not register—after everything he had just gone through—what he was then seeing. The first round of bullets came from the front door. Rifles, spitting and mowing down the hallways, the corridors, and the rooms. Blood; spilled across great distances as ammunition pierced through the guards’ bodies. Men in dark suits, charged through the entrance. Some rained fire through the windows with their pistols and their submachine guns. Slices of wood and shattered glass spewed and spilled beyond Ramu and Aden, who stared fixedly at the door. The dark orchestra of guns and bullets. It eventually died down. But still, through that closed door, Aden could hear the occasional resounding of guns shooting again as their empty shells drop to the floor. Aden could hear it. The Kadlum wouldn’t give up. Some of the guards, even through bullet holes in their chests, would scream and roar, hoping to ju
“Take care of him,” Alice said, as he pleaded for one of the villagers to take Matthew in for the night—and the time being, while they go through the bloodshed of the evening. They had just received word that Ramu’s house was attacked by a gang, and they couldn’t call anyone inside to get in touch with them. “What about my family?” Matthew wheezed through his startled and exhausted breaths. He took all of the pain the void caused while they were in the sea of memories. So Lyle wouldn’t need to be damaged by any of it. It rendered him almost motionless. “They’ll be safe,” Alice said. “Don’t worry.” She placed her hand on his chest. “If you wanna get out of this and stay alive, you gotta hide. We’ll protect your family.” Although, in Alice’s head, she wasn’t as confident as the way she said it. After all, Ramu’s place had just been overtaken. There was only one thought that kept creeping in his brain. Aden. “Come on, Al,” Miko chimed. “We gotta go…”
The forest was thick. And the darkness was all over him, too. All Aden had as a guide was the gleaming, white dog that seemed to have absorbed the presence of the night with its glow. He had wondered, outside the woods, was time still stopping? Had the world still remained frozen?In those dark and dusky clutter of trees were the only two beings that could pass through the frozen night. Aden grunted as he tried to run behind the dog as fast as he could, while occasionally being hurt by the branches and the bushes he was passing.The quiet dog—to no surprise—would not give any sign or acknowledgement of anything except for a quick glance to watch him then back to the run again. The dog expected Aden to keep the same pace.Aden continued to wheeze through the bushes and the shrubberies, the shining moon—covered by the cape of grove—absent through all of it. He wanted to ask the dog to stop for a moment, or to wait. But he knew, somehow, the
Aden and Abel sat on the quiet wooden stairs overlooking the backyard. Overlooking the guarding woods around them in that forest. Aden remembered, this was also the last place where they both talked before Aden received his name and his calling. Abel gestured towards the white dog, sleeping silently on the grass floor. “How long has he been sleeping?” Abel asked.“He slept the whole trip,” Aden said. Tired from all the recent mess.Abel nodded and chapped his lips. “Must’ve been tired,” he replied.Aden continued to look on, staring at it intently through pondering eyes. “It stopped time…” he said.“What?” Abel said.“The dog, man. It… stopped time,” Aden replied. “When we were escaping. I mean, I don’t even think it’s just a dog at all…”Abel squinted his eyes at him, smirking. He nodded subtly, then stared back a
Nightfall.Aden and Abel walked in familiarity across the strange—although (to them) known world—that had long hidden itself inside the forest. To a stranger, it was a fallen architect of death and terror created for a poor soul’s collapse. To Aden, the forest itself—a symbol in human form, it was just a web of secrets in the pleasure of the night. A museum of eldritch knowledge and… chaos. Some would say… a god’s little amusement. But to Aden, he knew, it was just another testing ground.And at the end of that testing ground, was just another prize that had been waiting for him. The tribe, Abel had said. The ritual. The darkness of the forest seemed not only to encompass them, but also to linger across their skin and in their head. They could hear whispers. Eerie thoughts being implanted at the back of their heads. Strange pictures… even stranger noises.All of it, just preparation for the night.The whi
“Ailan,” whispers seized Aden from an unknown dimension. As if the voices had breached some sort of barrier and has now filled his ears with hisses and sneers. “Ailan,” and other words he could not recognize anymore; it just kept going. His eyes had not recovered from the flash. But he knew anyway, that he wasn’t there with Agapito and the others anymore. This was one of those… memories.The air around him had begun to change. And the voices drew closer. Whispers… of women. Or just one. Repeating his name. Ailan. The bright flash from the torch had now turned into a darker shade. Now a burning orange, as his vision dazed from the watching himself be sucked in to another… vision.Then there he was… in another space and time. In another state. He felt like the wind. Just passing through the plane invisibly, but seeing all. Aden saw—and was now witnessing—some sort of ritual. A far away place, he knew.
There was chanting at first. Voices from tribal choirs seemed to circle him invisibly. Hallucinations of the forest. An illusion; and he hoped that the rat was too. But they were nonetheless there. And their chorus had demanded a fight. Had demanded an end.Gradually, the choir grew. Accompanying the humming voices were progressive drums that echoed across the air. All that, but Aden knew he was alone.The darkness continued to worry him. If the beast was going to pounce, he knew he wouldn’t be ready. He didn’t know where. But Aden could feel it. Waiting. Stalking. Looking for the right time.He had stopped shouting for Agapito’s name or Edgar’s. They weren’t going to come. This was his fight. So he gripped his blade tightly, leveling it to his head—preparing enough force and angle to cut through the rat’s eye with just one push.He wheezed through the process, the beating of the drums and the humming of the