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On an eclipse day, he was born. Cradled in his mother’s arms, he received his first words, a loving prayer she whispered into his ear: "May life be kind to you, always."
"You need to rest, Rose," the father told her, opening his hands out. "Let me take care of him."
Halfheartedly, the mother gave him the boy. She rested in bed, every inch of her body hurting, yet her heart was full of joy. She never knew how cruel life would be for her little boy and how fast their time together would fly. Had she, she might have kept him in her arms and never let go.
***
The boy’s cries echoed in Jivar’s chamber as he lay in a wooden crib near the throne. By his side, the five-year-old Viessa stood. The vast room had always made her feel small. She wondered if the boy felt even smaller.
"How do you find your new friend, Viessa?" Jivar asked as he settled on his seat.
"He keeps crying," she said, covering her ears. "Does Satan hurt him?"
"Perhaps," Jivar teased.
She turned to him with her wax-doll face. "Then we should kill him. Set him free."
"Not today," Jivar said. "Today, you watch over him."
Viessa nodded. She lowered her hands and stroked the child’s hair, and for the first time, she sang to him her favorite song. "Row, row, row your boat."
***
The boy grew up an adventurer. Unlike Viessa, the big world didn’t scare him. Yet, he was trapped in the castle, surrounded by ghost-like servants. From his window, he watched the Katarus train. He saw when one of them collapsed, unable to endure Zaros’s attack. He learned the training field was not a place for the weak.
At the age of six, he first sneaked out of the castle and crossed the bridge to explore the valley. The reddish soil, the yellowish trees, and the rocks of all shapes used to look tiny from his window.
Loafing around, the boy came across a young Kataru the size of a dog. The two backed away, and the Kataru dropped some grass from its mouth. "Is he going to kill me?" It thought, unaware the special boy could read its mind.
"Don’t be scared." The boy waved his hands rapidly. "I won’t harm you."
The Kataru’s tail twitched, tied between fear and curiosity.
"Stay," the boy said. "I want to be your friend."
Reluctantly, the Kataru inched closer and sniffed the boy’s hair and face. The boy reached his hand to rub its chin, and like a dog, the Kataru closed its eyes and opened its mouth, enjoying the petting.
The light of friendship sparked between the two. Every day, they met outside the castle. The Kataru taught the boy about life, and the boy listened and learned.
It took almost a year for the Kataru to go into adulthood and grow big enough to carry the boy on its shoulders. It limped along the valley, barely adjusting to the leg it had lost at war.
"I don’t understand why you have to go back," the boy said. "You can’t fight with a missing leg."
"They don’t care about that." The Kataru’s thoughts traveled to the boy’s mind.
"I care," he cried out. "Don’t go back there. The human world is evil."
"I have no choice. If I don’t toughen up, they’ll dispose of me."
The boy’s eyes welled, but quickly, he wiped off his tears. He wanted to be as tough as his friend. "Please, be safe." The boy patted the thick leather of the Kataru’s head. "I’ll wait for you to come home."
As a part of Zaros’s forces, the Kataru set out on a quest. The boy waited and waited, but his friend never made it back. The boy was left alone, too afraid to grieve. He knew he had to toughen up; otherwise, he’d be disposed of too.
***
Did I doze off?
I woke up in the closet under the stairs, my head resting against the wooden wall. After I received the news about Grandpa, I couldn’t help but hide.
This place is roomier than it seems. I yawned and stretched my arms.
When I heard voices outside, I cracked the door open. Kirby and Vanna waited at the entry hall, both dressed in black.
"Where's Echo?" Vanna asked. "We’re going to be late."
"I thought she was in her room." Kirby winced and pressed one hand to his belly and the other to his mouth. "I think I need the bathroom again. Stupid buffet food. You all go ahead. I’ll catch up."
He darted up the stairs, and it felt like he was drumming on my head. I covered my ears to stop the pain.
"It’s time to go," Jackson said as he came out of the living room with Tara and another brunette, who wore a formal black dress and white sneakers. I only saw her back, but I guessed she was a family friend.
Until they left, I stayed quiet, thinking about the small closet and how I used to play inside it when I was younger. Hadn’t it been so dark, I could’ve seen my artwork—the stars, the elephants, and the bunnies my younger self had drawn on the walls.
"Did everyone leave?" Kirby asked while he walked down the stairs. "Anyone here?"
"I’m here," I blurted, then clamped my mouth shut.
"Echo?" he asked in a confused tone. "Where are you?"
Despite the hand covering my lips, I made a weird sound like "Mmm...mmm."
"Are you in here?" His voice seemed close. He was standing in front of the stair closet.
I made the sound again.
"Echo." He peeked through the door crack. "Why are you sitting in the closet?"
"It’s nice here." I let my hands relax, telling myself that Kirby was a friend.
"But you have to come out," he said. "It’s time for Mr. Knight’s funeral."
"I don’t want to go."
"What’s up with your voice?" he asked. "It’s...squeaky. Come out so we can talk."
"No."
"Why?"
"I don’t want to."
"Oh, Lord." He let out a deep breath. "Echo, you know I love you, right?"
"Yeah."
"Then trust me. If you miss your grandfather’s funeral, you’ll regret it later."
"But I don’t want to go."
"Are you sure about that?"
"Yeah!" I was glad he understood.
"Fine," he said. "If sitting inside a closet is what you need right now, let me sit there with you. I’m opening the door, okay?"
"Okay." I cowered in the corner to make space for him. He opened the door, and once he did, his jaws dropped and his eyes shot open.
"Echo! You’re small."
"What?"
"Can’t you feel it? You’re sitting in your dress like it’s a tent."
Kirby opened the front camera of his phone and gave it to me. When I looked at it, I saw a six-year-old with red eyes and a flushed face. "I’m a...kid."
"We need help." Kirby took back his phone and recorded a voice message: Sister, something is wrong with Echo. Call me when you can.
And so his phone beeped with a reply that left him even more flustered.
"What did she say?" I asked.
He played the message aloud: What are you talking about? Echo is here. The funeral is about to start.
***
The boy was eight when Jivar called to see him. His knees quivered as he dragged himself into the throne room and bowed before his lord.
"I am aware you have a unique ability, Doyle. You talk to the Katarus."
The boy swallowed. How did he find out? He peered at Jivar, who showed a straight face like he always did. Doyle hated how he couldn’t read that old man’s mind. He bounced on his feet. To either lie or take pride in his power were his only choices.
"I can," he uttered, deepening his voice and forcing confidence into his posture.
"Magnificent," Jivar said. "I believe it is time we use your skills in the army. From this day, you shall become an apprentice of Zaros."
"M-m-my lord." Doyle’s palms sweated.
Jivar rose to his feet and circled the boy in a slow movement. "You see, Doyle, Katarus are not built for war. They are not meant to hunt humans or fight for survival."
I know that. Doyle ground his teeth, remembering his old friend.
"For the Katarus to survive the war, we ought to turn their fragility into wildness, to make them as cruel as humans are," Jivar added. "Zaros cannot do that...You can. Do you understand why, Doyle?"
The boy shook his head.
Coming to a halt, Jivar looked down at him and spoke in a bitter voice. "Because you care."
Jivar was right. Doyle did care about the Katarus and wanted to keep them safe. Had he been able to, he would’ve forbidden Jivar from sending them into war, but he was just a helpless child who barely managed to speak in Jivar’s presence.
Doyle accepted Jivar’s offer, thinking it would help him save the Katarus. He didn’t realize that war changes people. He didn’t foresee that, a few years later, he’d be the one leading his friends to death.
Being a warrior forced Doyle to see what he hated to see and do what he hated to do. To survive, he built a shield around his heart, covering up the vulnerability he once had. He wished to become invincible, to turn his heart into a rock, for that was the only way to live with the brutality of his choices.
After Viessa received the amulet, she asked Doyle to let her join his army. They were sailing their boat when he stopped paddling and said, "You’re not a part of this, Viessa."
"Why not?" She dangled her feet in the water. "I’m powerful now."
"This is not about power," he asserted.
"What is it about?" she asked in an innocent tone.
"You won’t understand. What I do—" He paused. "It’s not virtuous."
"You don’t have to protect me, Doyle."
"I’ll always protect you," he said. "But this is not about your safety, either. If you join the army, you’ll see many unpleasant things."
"What things?" Viessa gave a blank stare.
"Jivar." He hesitated before answering, scared that she’d see him differently. In her eyes, he had always seen himself as a hero. He didn’t want to become a monster. "Jivar has asked me to expand his territory. I have been using the Katarus to invade other dimensions and eliminate their inhabitants."
"Sounds like a game to me." Viessa seemed more intrigued than appalled, which further confused him.
Although Doyle was a leader, he had to obey. He was a hero to the Katarus, but a villain to many others. Born into a world of survival, he knew he was disposable. And despite his strength, he was afraid.
***
I was always afraid, more of myself than anything else. When my grandfather died, a little piece of me went free—a piece that was frightened but also dark and vindictive.
When the hospital called, she listened to what they had to say. She swallowed her anger but swore to let it out on those who deserved it.
"I made sandwiches," Ebba said as she walked into the room with a food tray.
"Grandpa is dead." The Dark One stood with an apathetic stare, like a lifeless mannequin in a fancy blue dress.
"W-what?" The tray shook in Ebba’s hand. "O-oh God." She put the food down and hurried to comfort her friend, who didn’t care for a hug.
After the two parted, Ebba’s expression changed. She took a slight step back and gave a tight smile the Dark One saw through.
"We have to go to the hospital," Ebba said.
"Wait in the car," The Dark One walked away. "I’ll grab something from my room."
"I’ll come with." Ebba chased her.
"You don’t have to. I’ll be right back—"
"I’m coming." Ebba insisted.
The Dark One realized she was exposed. "Oh." She grinned, relieved she no longer had to pretend. "Let’s cut to the chase, then." Waving her hand, she pinned Ebba against the wall.
"Ahhh. E-echo," Ebba cried. "W-w-hat are you doing?"
"Where is the amulet?" The Dark One twisted her fingers, and Ebba let out a pain-filled groan.
"M-mm-y p-urse." Ebba gasped, strangled by her friend’s magic.
The Dark One moved to the coffee table to find the yellow tote handbag Ebba took to the party. Rummaging through it, her hand found the amulet.
"Do-don’t do th-is," Ebba cried out as she fell to the floor. "Echo, please!" She launched herself at the Dark One, clutching at her dress.
The Dark One teleported away.
***
A faint ray of sunlight peeked through the door crack. Doyle woke up in the back of another vehicle—a van this time. When did I become so helpless? Out of nowhere, two strangers had shown up and kidnapped him from Bailey, the original kidnapper. Doyle, who had been a valiant warrior, was twice overpowered by a taser.
"It’s dark in here," a familiar voice whispered. Doyle’s heart skipped a beat. He looked around. The glow of a red dress penetrated the darkness of the trunk.
"Viessa?"
"Shush." She pressed her finger to her lips. "Don’t make a sound."
"How are you here?" Doyle lowered his voice to a whisper that conveyed his surprise.
"I’m a ghost," she said casually.
Doyle stared in confusion. Then again, it was Viessa. Her middle name was confusion.
"Are you here to help me?" he asked.
She pointed towards the metal wall separating them from the front seats. "There are two witches there. Do you want me to kill them for you?"
"What? No," he said. "I don’t kill people, Viessa. Not anymore."
"You killed me," she said with a pout.
Doyle sank in rue. No apology could undo what he had done. "I think we should wait for the car to stop and try to escape. It’ll be great if you can steal the electric weapon they have."
Bursting into laughter, Viessa covered her mouth to mask the noise.
"Why are you laughing?" Doyle asked in an almost irritated tone.
"You and me, working together," she said. "Reminds me of sweet days."
Doyle exhaled. His mind drifted to a few years back when he and Viessa visited Sattarum, a dimension with a terrain of colorful sand. Viessa spun around and around until she lost her balance. He caught her before she fell.
"It’s beautiful here." She gulped for air.
Doyle smiled and stomped his feet, spreading sand in the air like fairy dust. Viessa’s eyes sparkled.
"Could be a masterpiece," he said. The beautiful woman and the colorful background—it could’ve become a masterpiece, hadn’t it been for the pile of corpses surrounding them.
