Icarus (Realm Book 3), page 11
Chris looked uncertain. “Their presence is worrisome, and I am inclined to say either someone is watching the Sphere or us.”
CELESTINE
24st Century
Haides Castle
Hell was underrated. Suffering, pain, torture, and anguish were the center of this wretched place. Screams echoed as the flesh of the prisoners melted. Their existence was stolen, stripped away. The Guxod stood no chance. The short creatures, with frightened yellow eyes and pale white skins, were no match for the strong and brutal Orias. They shattered their defenses in seconds. They invaded their peaceful kingdom on an isolated moon. Cities burned. Millions died, and the last generations were kidnapped and thrown into the kingdom of darkness. The Orias spared no one.
Far below the fortress was a dungeon so large that it occupied half of the valley. The ground was charred. A mix of layers of solid lava and black mud. The stink of burning flesh and death hung in the air. Pockets of steam emerged from various cracks in the ground. The foul smell of rotten mass was suffocating. Little creatures stood in terror under the murderous eyes of the Orias.
A scream echoed, and the Guxod, who stood next in line, shivered. They had no choice. Either they turn, or they burn. The queen was unforgiving, and their lives didn’t matter to her. She needed troops, and they were toys, pawns in her game. In front of the Guxod stood two Orias guarding the end of the tunnel. It prayed, hoping for death. Suddenly, the guards moved to the side, and it was shoved forward. It stood in a circular cave with an enormous chamber. The door, smeared with blood, opened. The Orias forced the Guxod into the large chamber. It resisted and tried to run away. The Orias growled, lifted it, and threw it inside. The door shut with loud thunder.
“No. Please. No… kill me! Please, I beg of you, kill me!” It cried out, tugged its finger into the gaps of the massive door, and tried to open it. It was in vain. It bawled, banging on the door. Begging to die. A light glittered. The Guxod became silent and watched it with apprehension. At first, it was heavenly, soft. It hoped to be spared. Maybe its cries were heard. But then it turned dark. A loud rumble echoed as if the devil awakened.
“Please spare me!”
Those were its last words. Fluidic darkness grabbed it by the throat and slowly sucked the life out of the Guxod. Part by part, it took away its consciousness, its mind, its soul. Its screams were lost in the depths of the valley. Bit by bit, it was taken apart. Neither dead nor alive, it floated in the air like a ragged doll. A black mass emerged from the walls and merged with darkness. Steam filled the chamber. When it opened, the innocent little creature was long gone, and an Orias roared and sprung out. Its eyes blazed with hatred and filled with blood thirst. As if commanded by an unseen force, it rushed down the hallway, following its kind, and joined the thousands of creatures. The creatures passed through the tunnels, sounding like a massive army parading. They stopped in front of door. The stone moved, revealing an enormous hall. It was serene, dark. Its ceiling was at least twenty meters high. There were several levels divided into sections. The Orias spread out, each entering a den. And there they waited for the call of their queen.
Above the ground, things were quieter. But it did not please the queen. She could create as many slaves as she wanted, but without the mythical device, it meant nothing. She wondered if she should have gone herself. The four Orias ships she had sent after the girl were destroyed and Emmeline had vanished. Before blowing up, the last Orias ship had sent a transmission. The girl had opened another portal and jumped through it. Her destination was a mystery. The last Orias craft failed to follow her as an Earth ship intercepted it.
The castle was silent and gloomy. And she sat in the dark hall on the throne. The rim above her was the sole source of light. In its center was a whirl of smoke. She had been waiting, and she had been patient. Letting things come to her. Aithon had gone to investigate the girl’s disappearance, but he had not returned.
This one is hard to track.
She had declared war against the girl’s realm. However, war was inevitable, and she had been fighting her entire life. But this time, it was different. This was a formidable enemy, stubborn and unpredictable. They had been beaten. The perimeter was destroyed, and their most powerful station, Titan, was lost. They should have given up. The girl should have returned the piece to her and begged for her forgiveness.
Why didn’t she? How could she defy me?
The queen rose to her feet and left the main hall. She wandered through the gloomy, quiet, spacious corridors made of stones long before her existence. She wondered how these remained strong after all these years. Large cracks had fractured them, but still, the castle remained sturdy. As she walked, the dust on the ground cleared, the air became softer, and the fires lit up.
“Come,” said a voice.
She halted and turned. She was all alone.
“Come…” it said again.
The queen shook her head. Was it another vision or something else? A memory. Her species was known to have visions, memories passed down generations, but until now, they had never spoken to her. She followed the voice to a forgotten wing of the castle. It was six levels below her throne. She paused at the end of the stairs and watched the dark, troubled corridors. Since she had been awakened, she had never thought about her origins. Her ambition was to find the mythical device, but she never speculated about her past. The only truth was she was meant to rule. Unfortunately, she remembered very little of that truth. Her memories were broken, like a million-year-old puzzle with lost pieces buried in the minds of her ancestors.
The past. Did it matter? What difference does it make? I am the queen.
Walking past several old, cracked doors. She paused in front of a curved wall with an arch door. The door shuddered and opened, making a loud, groaning noise.
Why am I here?
“Come…,” said the voice. She knew it. She had heard it before.
It was dark, and a whip of chilly air hit her face. Without hesitation, she stepped inside and was transported to a different world. The chilly wind turned icy, almost unbearable. For the first time, she realized her form was sensitive to temperatures. She considered changing. It was weak. It made her fragile. She didn’t need it. But she liked it, and now she understood why Aithon preferred this form. It gave meaning to their existence. Without it, they were just ghosts.
The queen’s eyes adjusted to her surroundings, and what she saw would scare a human to death. The wind howled madly, and it tried to push her from her path. Her gown fluttered. The blizzard fell like small rockets hitting her skin. The snow on the ground swallowed her feet. But she kept on walking. There was something here and she wanted to know. The dark barges and broken structures cast shadows of sadness. She slowed her pace when she saw another fallen structure, a half-broken castle. A part of the wall had shattered. The two towers had lost their sparkle, and a layer of dirt covered them. She walked over a cracked, stony bridge. Deep gutters were full of black liquid. She felt nostalgic. The terrain was familiar.
What is this place?
She entered the ruined castle. Suddenly, screams echoed. Blood spilled everywhere. Children cried and blew into pieces. Men and women wailed as an unseen force tore them apart. She blinked several times. The vision vanished. What was it she was seeing? And why? Why had she come here? What was this place?
Confused, she kept walking through the ruins. The cracked ground, covered with ashes and black vines, didn’t bother her. She recognized these ruins but didn’t remember them. The screams had vanished; the cries were long gone, yet they were deeply embedded in her memory. There was life here. At some point.
She emerged on the other side of the broken fortress. Ashes coated the ground, and foul creatures slithered. The skeleton of trees spread for miles. A black tree with a strong bark and an awkward shape stood in the middle. She blinked several times and walked toward it. The creatures rushed away, more afraid of her than their own shadows. She stood in front of the tree, trying to recall. She touched its infected bark, which smelled like pus. A vision flashed, and she saw two girls playing around the tree.
“No. No. I don’t want to remember.”
But it was too late.
The memory returned. The foul air was replaced with a fresh, soothing smell. The sun shined high in the sky, and rivers flowed calmly. Rolling green mountains graced the land. Large, beautiful birds fluttered their wings and dived toward the surface, enjoying the blissful sun. Beautiful, colorful creatures lived happily in the vicinity. She watched as the two girls played, laughed, and ran into the field. Then they reappeared and jumped into a clear pond nearby.
This is outrageous. I should stop.
She was unsure, and she let her curiosity guide her. One girl climbed out of the pond and ran into the field. She followed her. The young girl ran through the field.
“Please wait. Who are you?” said the queen.
Her hair flowed red; eyes sparked with joy. She was one of the most beautiful souls the queen had seen. The mysterious young girl glanced behind, gave her a coy smile, and vanished into the field. The queen increased her pace, pushing away the grass. She could hear the girl giggle, but no longer saw her.
“Where are you?” she called.
She stepped out of the field to find herself once again near the large tree. It was green, alive, and its branches spread on both sides.
“Celestine! Celestine!” said the little girl. “Come, Father is looking for us.”
The vision vanished, and the queen stood, shocked.
Celestine. It was a name, a name she had long forgotten.
The queen waited, but the vision did not return. She wanted to find the girl again. Did she see her younger self? She didn’t remember her childhood. Her memories were ambiguous. All she knew was a hatred toward her father. His betrayal, his disloyalty. He had abandoned her, ruined them.
Another memory flashed. A man fell to his knees, crying in remorse. His face was covered with bloody hands. A new recollection, but not the one she preferred. Reluctantly, she let it slide and kept walking through the ruins. She thought about her kingdom. It was her home, which had turned into ashes. She would do anything to restore it. With her head bowed, she returned to her fortress. The arched door closed behind her.
Uncertain about how she felt, she returned upstairs. The hall with the throne was dead silent. She walked to the pools and saw her own reflection in the liquid. Her form was flawless, her eyes perfect, and her skin radiant. Yet she felt dead inside. She looked up at the figures half-buried in the walls. She wondered why they were there? Walking away from her throne, she halted in front of the first figure. The creature had a long spout, a round head, and wide eyes. Why did my ancestors take these forms? Was it them? There was no way of knowing.
The next one was more pleasing. An old woman with a charming face that made her smile. Besides her was a man with rags covering his upper body. The rest of him resembled a snake. It looked like the serpent had swallowed him. She marveled if these statues were someone's imagination. The others were not much different. Her mother, of course, recognized. She had been part of this wall for eternity. And she remembered her perfectly well. For her ignorance, her indifference to her, and her selfishness. Nothing more. She never cared for her children. Only her image and power mattered. She huffed and spun to face a figure of a young woman caught her eye. Her face was familiar, and yet she couldn’t identify her. Sadness and disappointment filled her features, and her eyes were full of tears. A memory came rushing, and the queen gasped. The little girl in her vision. She looked up and knew that face. It was her sister.
“Tier?” she muttered.
What is my sister doing here?
She paused. She didn’t recall what had happened to her. Did she die? Was she lost? Taken?
A noise distracted her, and she turned away from the figure.
Aithon appeared, and she swallowed her emotions.
“My queen.”
“What news?” she said hastily, walking to the throne.
“After searching for several days, we have uncovered that the girl vanished into the portal that led her to the second piece.”
She relaxed on the throne. “I already know that.”
“The portal opened in the past.”
She glared at him. “What?”
“Yes.”
“How did you know?”
“We tapped into the communications between the Earth ships.”
She eyed him.
“We cannot afford a confrontation at the moment.”
“How did they know?”
“They equip their crafts with a device to detect time travel and received transmission from the probe before it vanished into the portal.”
“How far back?”
“Nothing specific. She could have traveled back a hundred years…or even before our Empire ever existed.”
She bowed her head. Anger stirred inside her, but it wouldn’t help her. “Can we track the mythical device?”
“Yes, we’ll need all our resources.”
She thought this would be simple. It would have been better if the girl hadn’t found the plaque. But then the queen wouldn't have resurrected.
Disappointed, she left the hall. To her annoyance, Aithon followed.
“Why are you following me?”
“I am curious to know what you have in mind.”
She crocked her eyebrows and changed the subject. “Since you have awakened, do you remember anything?”
They stopped in the corridor. She studied his face and saw her question had bothered him. His eyes dropped.
“Forget about it,” she said.
He wouldn’t understand. Slaves were inferior and didn’t possess her powers. They found themselves in the hall with the twelve doorways. She had used it to travel to Emmeline’s realm and find her. The queen walked toward the terrace and looked at the black mountain. Smoke emerged from different parts, disappearing into the dark clouds that dominated the orange sky.
“Is the army ready?”
“Not yet.”
“Work fast. Convert them. If they resist, burn them alive,” she said acidly.
She passed through the gaps between the spherical rocks. An arched door led her to a staircase. With Aithon, she descended downstairs to enter a shadowy chamber. Her crypt sat in the middle. She walked past it. The wall before her came to life. Green and blue lights flashed. A door appeared, three snake like creatures came to life, they moved to the center, forming a concentric shape.
“Open.”
The stone made a loud gridding noise and moved to reveal a chamber. She eyed a large sphere in the center.
“Are you sure about this?” asked Aithon.
“I am sure,” she said.
FUTURE
21st Century
Cranston house, New York
The two floored house looked a little out of place due to its Victorian design. The road had become busier and East village had drastically changed. A well- kept lawn and flowerbeds gave its beauty. An eight-foot-high red-brick wall marked the boundaries of the house. Tall trees that were planted over five decades ago kept it safe from dust and noise pollution. Light poles stood on both sides of iron gates that opened into a short driveway. The garage was simple, providing shelter for cars. The house was surrounded by a set of new tall buildings and multi-story houses accommodating a lot more people. It was like a little haven in the middle of a busy world.
Roumoult had slept most of the day and even the next morning he didn’t want to get up. But forced himself to leave the bed. The master bedroom was big and cozy with a queen bed, French windows, walk-in closet, and a bathroom with a spa. His wife, Emma, had redecorated it recently. The old doors which interconnected this room with the kid’s rooms were sealed and painted. The carpet was changed, and the drapes were new. There was no TV or desk. Emma preferred to keep this room work free. Despite her several warnings, he brought his laptop to the bedroom and worked. It did not make Emma happy.
Half asleep, he walked into the bathroom. It was difficult to ignore how miserable he looked with the overgrown beard and the messy uncut hair. His clients wouldn’t have recognized him, and his father would have lost his temper.
You definitely look like a homeless person.
In fifteen minutes, he finished shaving and gave himself a quick haircut. Still struggling with jetlag, he got dressed for the day. Disregarding his fatigue, he left his room. The first floor had four bedrooms. Cassidy’s room was closer to his room and Ayden’s bedroom was next to his grandpa’s. He came down the Y-shaped stairs, which connected a curved corridor linking all the bedrooms together.
The living room was spacious, ornamented with exquisite Persian carpets. A fireplace with an oak mantelpiece stood to the right. Above the mantelpiece sat family portraits. Three comfortable couches formed a semi-circle around the fire and the flat-screen TV. His father’s artifact collection took half of the study, connected to the living room. Books sat on oak shelves, and a wide desk was situated just near the window.
Roumoult walked into the clean, big kitchen. Two arched windows opened onto the front lawn. A chandler hung from the roof above a long, elegant wooden dining table. The bench was made of white granite. The cabinets were dark green, in contrast to the white color. Turning on the coffee machine, he prepared breakfast. Of course, he could easily delegate this task to his cook, but he liked to cook. At least once a week, he planned to eat breakfast with his children—if they were around.
Over time, he had discovered that having breakfast in silence set him up for the day. The coffee machine groaned as it prepared a fresh cup of coffee. Roumoult flung open the fridge door and sulked. The eggs were gone. He was fairly sure they had a pack. Making himself toast and a coffee, he settled in the chair. Loud thumps echoed, followed by hurried steps. Cassidy appeared ready for school. There was still time, but Cassidy usually left early to attend language classes.
