Silence
The next morning, the Council assembled in one of the conference rooms waiting to hear about the situation going on with Series. Ethan stared at the empty spot to Luana’s left where the Supernatural elementalist should sit. He recognized the warm presence and the crinkle of leather on his left as Scott took his seat next to Eilene. Hans took up residence on Luana’s immediate right—the perfect buffer between her and Eilene. Directly across from Ethan, Scarlet sat at the end of the table next to Dwayne with Series on his right side.
“We are going to call this an official meeting,” Luana announced. Once they sat in their appropriate seats, she stood. “Dwayne, I’d like for you to be in charge of minutes for this meeting.”
Dwayne immediately pressed a button on the side paneling of the table, and a panel slid to the side. A computer screen emerged from the hole. It broadcast the keyboard across the table in front of him. He tapped the screen, opened a blank document, and started typing quickly across the page. His fingers quietly tapped against the table.
“The first matter of business is to turn time over to Series who is seeing flashes of our future as a Council.” Luana sat down.
When Series stood, her height didn’t change. She had the same stature, but it felt different. “To be honest with all of you, the visions started a while ago, but I couldn’t connect them to any events and decided to wait until the situation presented itself. The time is now, and we need to address everything I saw and things I haven’t.” Series didn’t waver under the intense stares from her comrades. “The first vision I saw involved Scott. In the dream, I landed on a battlefield. It was pouring rain, and, as I pushed through the throngs of soldiers, I found Scott flying above the field. People rushed him from all sides, but no one could touch him.”
Scott’s brows crinkled. He didn’t think he made a particularly prolific warrior—especially against hordes of people.
“That’s scary enough on its own, but his eyes glowed stark white, and he wielded all nine elements at once. A feat I’m not sure anyone ever achieved successfully. Not even Vasha could withstand it. Scott didn’t have his robes on either—that’s how I identified him.”
Luana’s eyes narrowed. Wearing no robes didn’t bode well for them.
“Then, I saw myself. A group of enemies surrounded me. My eyes glowed gold like Scott’s. When I tried to approach, I tripped and turned up on a beach. The dreams felt so vivid I could sense every part of the environment. The sand sticking to my skin, and the smell of the sea air.”
“What was on the beach, Muuyaw?” Dwayne paused his notes.
“A temporary medical tent. Luana and Hans walked along the beach and they talked about seeing someone they didn’t expect on the battlefield—though it came from Luana’s side. I don’t know who they saw, but they startled her. I saw Luana cry. When I tried to enter the tent to find out more information, the vision brought me back to the Academy. We stood on the steps overlooking the grounds and none of us wore our robes.”
Luana bit her tongue, hard. She could taste blood in her mouth. Series’ visions were never wrong—just as with any other Fortune elementalist. However, that didn’t mean she had to like it. Ever since Ethan’s appearance, rules started to break more and more among the Council members. Hans talked back to her about appropriate retaliation against the Uns. They had two new elements to look out for. Series told them that they would go before their people without their robes, without the sacred protection of secrecy afforded to them by multiple generations of elementalists.
“It doesn’t end there—” Series took a shaky breath, “three nights ago, I started to have visions while awake.”
“Is that possible?” Scarlet’s brows furrowed together.
“Apparently, I never heard of it before.” She licked her lips. “It’s terrifying. They can hit at any moment, and I collapse because my body wants to go into a sleep state, but I’m also still awake through all of it. The visions from the other night—they showed a main contender in an upcoming war. We’re fighting against the humans and the father of the child we retrieved the other day is at the front of the fight.”
“Or, at the very least, he’s taken the helm of this particular battle,” Eilene said. The logic of her statement eased the postures of a few of the Council members.
“I can’t see someone like him gaining enough of a following to start a war against us. We have accords with every single country. Those are not easily broken,” Hans said.
“Did you garner any information we can use to stop him?” Luana’s hands formed frustrated fists.
Series shook her head. “In the vision, he wielded a sword-like object. It imitated our Lūcis Armōrum. It’s different, but I can’t explain how since I didn’t get a good enough look at its functions. I do know it had a gold coloring, and it generated flames not extinguished by the rain. Slattery fought someone I didn’t recognize—because of the rain, mud covered everyone. I couldn’t get close enough to look at his face, but Tyr put him at his mercy. He lost his weapons, our Lūcis Ēnsēs Gracilis, during the fight because of the unknown weapon. I didn’t get to see anything else because something jolted me back to the present moment. I do know he planned to kill them. The vision didn’t continue until I went into the bathroom where I collapsed and hit my head on the shower before I called Dwayne.”
“What did you see the second time around?” Luana scratched her nose.
“More of the same fight. The man ended up with one of his weapons destroyed, supposedly by the human.”
Hans asked, “Is there anything else we may need to know to progress?”
“Someone dies. I don’t know who. We never mentioned a name. They are male, however, and we are left with a limited number of options. I can’t change the future.” Series’ lower lip trembled. She stared around the table at the faces of her friends, Scott, Hans, Dwayne, and Ethan. She couldn’t imagine losing any of them.
“We don’t have any control over who dies,” Scott spoke up. “I don’t think any of us will hold back even if we know we could die—that’s a part of war. I’d be more surprised if we made it out unscathed.”
“Scott makes a fair point.” Hans nodded firmly. “Even if I knew I’m the one who dies, it wouldn’t stop me from participating in this war. If my death is a part of what saves and brings peace back to our people, I’d die one-hundred times over.”
“I think,” Luana started with a slight tremor to her voice, “it may be best to avoid other wars until we’re confronted with whatever this new force is.”
“It’s disappointing to think one person could cause so much chaos,” Scarlet sighed. “Are we going to pull our current troops out of the field?”
“I think that is the best course of action.” Eilene sucked on her teeth. “We can fortify here if we bring them home. We can make a call for people to join the army publicly. The more prepared we are, the better it’ll be for our people in the long run. We should try to prevent as many casualties as possible—except our inevitable one.”
“Since we know this war is coming, we need to prepare the best we can.” Luana grabbed a stylus out of the cup at her desk and slid a slim panel of wood on her desk to reveal a screen. When she put the stylus to the glass, her writing appeared on one of the wall panels. “Things we should actively think about: Food Supply, may include rationing current food output. Write your own ideas down, and we can comment on and discuss them.”
Scarlet leaned over to show Ethan how the panels worked and how he could flip to different ones and comment on them while someone else also wrote on the same panel. Series shared her writing pad with Dwayne, so he could keep the computer open. Eilene borrowed Dwayne’s computer to pull up the census database and find the name of their suspected threat. On her wall, she wrote:
CONTACT FBI/CIA: PERSON OF INTEREST TYR SLATTERY
The Council flipped through panels and made notes until the walls resembled bad graffiti. Stars and arrows marred the writing as it connected points together and put emphasis on ideas or needs. Once satisfied with the content, Luana exported the files into a single panoramic image file and sent it to their phones.
“Hans and I will compile this into an easily read file with the order of events. I’ll send it out with your personal work assignments when we’re done.” Luana collected a few papers and books scattered around the room she thought that she would need. “For now, relax. If you find some work to do, feel free.”
Hans took what she carried and nudged her out of the door first. Once they disappeared, Scarlet sighed. “Are those two ever going to admit their feelings?”
“Probably not.” Series leaned back in her chair. “I wish I could get a handle on these waking visions. If I could control when I see them, it’d make our lives easier.”
“You’re asking for a miracle,” Dwayne chuckled.
“Can Council members date each other?” Ethan doodled absentmindedly on the pad in front of him and watched the little drawings come to life on the wall behind Dwayne’s head.
“Yeah—though we don’t usually.” Scarlet fluffed up her hair with her fingers.
“Why?”
“Dating usually leads to marriage—which isn’t bad, but who are you going to invite? So, you have a small ceremony with the Council—great! You share a room with each other even though you could before. Now you’re married, you might think about starting a family, but if you have a child, you don’t get to raise it. The Council is full of ‘dead’ people—if any of us have children, they must go outside the academy and be adopted. It’s easier to stay single for your entire life. It doesn’t complicate anything.” Dwayne leaned back in his chair and propped his feet up on the table. “I’m proud every day I’m aro ace. Makes my job here a hundred times easier.”
“You’re asexual?” Eilene’s eyes snapped to him. Her face lit up in several shades of pink.
Dwayne’s mouth parted as he realized he revealed his sexuality without talking to her first. He always planned to—he knew the depth of her feelings for him; he wasn’t blind. Every time Dwayne tried to broach the subject, it never quite got there. He didn’t know how to tell someone he would crush their dreams, but Eilene knew the realities of their work on the Council. He couldn’t give her what she wanted, and her line of work wouldn’t allow it either. Dwayne swallowed hard and dropped his feet back to the floor. The chair thudded down with him. He always meant to tell her gently.
“It slipped,” Dwayne whispered.
Scott put a hand on Eilene’s arm, but she shook him off.
“I’m the same as Dwayne, sorry boys.” Scarlet quickly tried to cover for her friend.
Series picked up the hint. “Demisexual.” She pulled her legs up into her chair and curled into the fetal position. “I have to agree. It’d be hard to be a sexual person with this job.”
“I need to go take some ibuprofen.” Eilene headed for the door. “I’ll see you guys later.”
She took off running once in the hall. Dwayne stood and headed after her with a shout of, “Dickens, wait!”
Scarlet pushed away from the table and left without another word.
Series sized up the last two Council members left in the room. “Neither of you are going to flip out and cause drama, are you?”
Scott shook his head, and Ethan held up his hands in forfeit.
“Dickens.” Dwayne caught up with Eilene using his gangly strides. His hand wrapped firmly around her bicep and drew them both to a halt. Eilene yanked her arm away and frowned. She didn’t turn to face him. “I never meant to blurt it out in front of everyone. That’s the last way I wanted everyone to find out.”
“Yet, it happened,” Eilene’s voice choked with tears. “Did you intend to tell me?”
Dwayne reached out for her hand, but she slapped him away. His own throat felt blocked. He couldn’t remember how many years passed since she acted like she did when she first joined the Council—scared of her own shadow. The remnants of what her uncle did to her. “I know how you feel about me. And I thought about telling you all the time—I wanted to tell you, but I could never come up with a good way to not break your heart. I didn’t want to hurt you. You’re always there for me, and I wanted to return the favor—turns out, I’m not as good at it as you.”
She folded her arms and shivered in the dim lighting.
“I never said you weren’t there for me.” She picked out the flaw in his speech. “I don’t think you couldn’t not break my heart as soon as you knew I liked you in that way.”
Dwayne took a steady breath. He reached out again and pulled her into a hug, her back cradled against his chest. “I’m sorry, Eilene. You’re going to find someone perfect for you one day, you know? Someone who can give you the entire world.”
Hot tears spilled down Eilene’s face and dripped onto his arms. He kissed the top of her head. She tilted her head back into his chest. She liked and hated the sound of her name on his lips. It didn’t fit him.
“I thought I was ‘Dickens’ to you.” They both laughed. “I’ll never find anyone like you.”
“And that’s a good thing.” A smile crept back onto Dwayne’s face. “I’d be pissed if you fell in love with someone else, and they broke your heart like I did. You’ve gotta find someone better than me—there’s tons of men out there.”
“People I don’t know,” she sniffled. “I don’t exactly want to date Ethan.”
Dwayne pursed his lips, surprised she didn’t recognize Scott as a viable option. “If Muuyaw’s visions are true, you might be able to meet a whole world full of people.”
“I hate you for what you did to me.”
“I can accept that, Dickens. Although, if you tell me you hate me for anything else, I’m not going to believe you.”
“Shut up.” She gently pulled away. “I’m going to spend some time alone.”
June 23, 2313
The Council Chambers, The Academy, Elementōrum Patriam
Dwayne spread himself across his bed and held up the remote to the old boom box in the corner of his room. He skipped to the second to last song on the disc and leaned back where his head dropped off the edge of the queen-sized bed. Blood rushed to his head, and he liked the lightweight feeling it gave him. Snow Patrol’s lyrics wrapped around him like a weight pulling him below the waves; the heavy anchor of Council responsibilities removed the human side of him. His cracked and strained voice joined the singing.
“What happens if my eyes are already open?” Eilene asked from the doorway. Dwayne shot up from the bed, and he felt dizzy as all the blood rushed away from his brain. He held a hand to the side of his head and waited for his vision to clear.
“Huh?”
“The song, Open Your Eyes. I’m questioning the lyrics.”
“Do metaphors escape you, my dear, Dickens?” He dropped back onto the bed again.
“You’re a mystery to me, Dwayne.” Eilene batted at his legs until he pulled them in where he no longer starfished across the bed. She lay opposite him, her feet at his head. He raised his head above the edge of the large mattress to glare at her. “I get your feet. Deal with it.”
“You’re ruining a perfectly good song.”
“It’s the same sixteen beats which go up and down single notes after three measures.”
“With a harmony and beautiful lyrics that make you think.”
“I’d prefer not to think when I’m lying on my bed.”
“I like thinking in my room. Allows me to get work done. Don’t worry, I won’t tell Molelo you’re skimping out on work.”
“You know, I think I’m falling into those lyrics a little bit. How about we sit in silence.”
“Are my jokes too good for you, Dickens?”
“Shut up.”
They sat in silence during the middle minute of the song. Their breathing matched the same pace, and Eilene let her eyes trail the sky of Botswana. She loved how their rooms adapted to their personal tastes.
“The sky looks different in the southern hemisphere.”
“I think it’s better.” Dwayne wiggled his hips across the bed, so his head didn’t hang off the edge. “What’d you come in here for, anyway?”
“You looked sad the last few days. I set up the game room with all types of games for us to mess around with. Even brought up Fantasy Wars on the computers so we can dick around and kill spider spawns. Or Blockcraft—we have that server.”
“I kind of want to stay here and wallow in my own pity party.”
“I’m okay with that, too.”
Dwayne stopped the CD on the last song and restarted the disc in the player with the remote held over his head. He skipped several songs into the album.
“A true classic, Chasing Cars,” Eilene teased.
“You know you love it.”
“If we’re going to wallow in self-pity, we should listen to some better music.”
“Shhh, you wallow with the sad tones of my music if you’re going to be in here.”
“Are we allowed to talk about our problems amidst the depressing music?” Eilene tilted her head up to see Dwayne’s face. He nodded. “I wish my parents would’ve believed me when I told them what happened with my uncle.”
“I wish that, too.”
“I found out through Council avenues he was injured badly during my escape.”
“He deserved it.”
“No doubt,” Eilene paused, “it pissed me off, though. I found out because of his injuries he was found to be unfit for work, and he lives off money we send him every month.”
Dwayne winced.
“He gets to stay at home all day and do nothing because I got revenge. Charges were never pressed against him, and I can’t do anything about it. I’m stuck here on the Council and every month, one of us signs the check he spends to keep living another day.” Tears stained her cheeks. “I wanted to prove he no longer had any power over my life, but here I am crying over the fact I occasionally sign his check. I wanted to be happy, Dwayne.”
“Hey,” Dwayne sat up and held his arms out for her. She darted into the warm embrace and pressed her face into his chest.
“If only one of my parents would’ve believed me when it first happened—but they thought I was an Un. The older Council members said they didn’t even react when they informed them of my Rogue status, or that I was killed.”
His grip tightened around her shoulders. “I’m going to keep you safe. No one is going to hurt you again, you hear?”
Eilene nodded into his shoulder. He ran a hand up and down her back to help calm her down.
“Now we’ve got a problem,” Dwayne pulled away. She copied the motion, her eyes red and puffy. “I planned on spending the day alone celebrating my birthday, and now you’re here.”
Eilene snorted. “Oh please, it’s not your birthday. You don’t tell anyone when your birthday is.”
“Then humor me a little.”
January 17, 2317
Torii Station, Yomitan, Okinawa, Japan
Mason Ford watched the men and women march into the courtyard for morning line-up. Stationed on the military base, they would return home for an unknown span of time at the end of the week. He didn’t like how quiet his home in Tennessee would be. No one lived there while he served outside the country—he didn’t need hired help after the elementalists collected Luana from his home at age seven while he was on active service.
At eight, he received word of her classification of Rogue and her untimely death.
While he called the city, and the house, home—it no longer held any appeal.
“Alright, soldiers.” Mason’s voice echoed across the yard. “We’re running drills for the first half of today. This afternoon, we are on cleaning duty.”
“Sir, yes, sir!”
The days when they complained about their duties vanished, and on the blow of his whistle, they immediately went to work. Mason followed behind them to watch their drills and participate himself. He needed a good workout to keep his mind off his inevitable return home to the states.
Key West, Monroe County, Florida, United States of America
“I was beginning to think you wouldn’t come.” Tyr said when he opened the door of his apartment to Ryan. “I’m just finishing packing a few boxes. I’m moving in three days. Going to try a new area, I think it’ll be good for me.”
“I don’t quite get the proposal here. A. You think my son Scott is alive and serving on the Council because of the evidence presented in these pages.” Ryan had to admit, the evidence looked sound, but he wasn’t sure how they got their hands on school records. That was the piece throwing him. School records could be faked, no matter how much some person online claimed they were legitimate. “B. You’re suggesting genocide because of a genetic mutation. There’s no way parents are going to agree to kill their child simply because it came back positive with the elementalist mutation.”
Tyr gave him a knowing look. “Won’t they? Are you trying to tell me the habits of humans are going to change when it comes to the elementalist race? Have they yet to stop themselves from aborting a child when they find it has some other kind of genetic disease? Down syndrome? Autism? Other learning disabilities? Have they ever stopped to think about rearing a child when it is born with blindness or deafness, instead of seeking a cure? No. Humans always look for cures for everything. They are obsessed with having a generation with no ‘mistakes’, no ‘deformities.’ They don’t want anything wrong with a child which could affect the world they live in. If an elementalist child is born, they will seek to get rid of it. It’s part of their nature. I’m sure once they know their child cannot live separately or receive training over their powers, they will no longer allow them to exist. Our cure is simply death to all who do not fit our human race.” Tyr waved a hand through the air. “Besides, genocide isn’t necessarily the right word for it. I’m simply willing to kill any elementalist who doesn’t want their genetic mutation erased. That’s how this works. We have to get rid of the mutation.”
“You’re exploiting the fear and weakness in humans and encouraging genocide for generations to come.” Ryan cleared his throat—aware of the severity of what Tyr wanted to achieve. He stared down at his notes. “And if my son is on that Council?”
“If there was a different type of cure,” Tyr continued, “if we knew how to rewrite their genes. Insert a repair to that chromosome—something that would remove their elementalist ability. How many parents do you think would do it?”
Ryan swallowed hard but didn’t reply. Tyr didn’t answer his question about Scott. Does Tyr plan to kill the Council? Can I stop him?
“If you were given free testing before your son was born, and he showed up as an elementalist—and with this fix, you could take it all away and keep him with you. Would you have done it?”
“Take away the part of him that made him special?”
“Take away the part of him that led others to kill him. He wouldn’t be dead. You’d know that for a surety.” Tyr held his hand out and counted on his fingers. “He’d be twenty-three now. Probably married. You could have a grandchild. You’d be happy.”
“Can you do that? Fix the gene.”
Tyr grinned. “There are several who are willing to fund such testing—if we can prove results. With your background, we could make that a reality for many other parents. We could put an end to the mutations. When I get my daughter back, I’ll fix her, too. I’ll offer the same to your son if he is alive.”
Ryan extended a shaky hand. “You have a deal.”
February 13, 2317
Milan, Gibson County, Tennessee, United States of America
Mason ended up being retained in Japan for almost a month longer than planned. Looking around his home left him with a sense of dread. The house was freezing. He didn’t leave the central air on while on tour—it would cost a fortune. To top it off, a thick layer of dust covered every surface. He’d need his own brand of cleaning troops to get the house healthy again.
He kicked fresh dust into the air as he hauled his suitcase over the threshold. It filled his lungs, and he entered a horrible coughing fit that only revived itself when he walked outside in the cold winter air a second time. He used his shirt as a mask as he navigated the space. He left his case in the middle of the living room for the time being.
Mason retrieved a brand-new filter for the central air and replaced it before turning the unit on. After a trip around the house with the vacuum, emptying the container several times into a garbage sack, he felt comfortable enough to live for the time being. Only one room remained untouched.
He stepped into the kitchen and came across a new problem he needed to resolve. Inside the fridge, he had a few water bottles, all flavored. The cupboards offered him a box of stale crackers and cereal. Nothing he particularly wanted to ingest—but fast food didn’t sound appetizing either. Mason shuffled out of the house again to his vehicle and programmed in the address for it to take him to the local grocery store. Being back in the house reminded him too much of Luana. Walking around the house felt like living with a ghost. He couldn’t stop the flashes of his child walking the halls.
Mason stared blankly out the window and considered the what ifs. Luana would be twenty-five, quickly approaching twenty-six if the Council didn’t kill her at eight. He could be a grandfather. Even if he would never meet or see them—they’d live in Elementōrum Patriam where he couldn’t go. He wondered if he could send them gifts.
Mason spent the next couple of hours traipsing up and down the aisles as he restocked his entire kitchen. He didn’t have the will to cook, but he knew buying fresh ingredients and fixing his food would be healthier for his body in the long run. He found he didn’t mind the long weekend checkout lines even with perishables in his cart. The moments outside of his empty house were like paradise.
Unwilling to stay in his house longer than it took to put away the groceries, he headed into the cold again, dressed in a winter work-out outfit.
February 23, 2317
Mason returned from his run out of breath and ready for a nap, except two unfamiliar men stood on his doorstep looking through the open front window. Uneasy, he hesitated and considered going for another lap. One of the men was close to his age, late forties, while the other looked closer to his late twenties.
He hoped they weren’t salesmen. Not many people went door to door anymore, but a few showed up every so often. He certainly hoped they weren’t there to proselyte a religion. He’d turn them away in no time.
“Are you Mr. Ford?” the younger asked upon his cautious approach.
“I am.” Mason stopped halfway up the driveway. “Is there something I can help you with?”
“Can we speak inside?” he pushed.
“I don’t invite strangers into my home. I could call the police for trespassing.”
“I’m sorry, sir, we don’t mean to be a bother,” the older one cut in. “It’s just a rather sensitive matter. We hoped to ask a few questions about your daughter.”
Mason’s eyes narrowed further. “I don’t have a daughter.”
The pair exchanged a glance. The first continued, “We understand. Sorry for bothering you.” He settled a folder under his arm before they left. A sheet of paper slid out and dropped to the ground.
Mason picked it up and started to call out, but he stopped when he saw the text on the page.
Luana Ford
Top of the Class in Fire instruction
Reportedly Killed: August 19, 2306
Pictured: October 2306 Fire Council member approximately the same height as previously named.
“Where did you get this?” Mason held up the sheet. Both stopped at the end of the driveway.
“From an online forum.” The younger licked his lips. “I’m Tyr Slattery, and this is Ryan Everton. We’re gathering information on the elementalists to find a way to cure them.”
“What do you mean ‘cure’?” Mason ran his thumb over the picture of Luana as a smiley child on her school ID.
“Well,” Tyr bit his lip, “I want to find a way to reverse the gene mutation, so we can put an end to the elementalist people. Ryan agreed to help me because if something like this existed, his son wouldn’t have been killed the same as yours. We hoped you might be willing to join our research.”
“Who is funding this research?”
Ryan shuffled his feet. “A few different parties. We’re still drawing connections to various groups.”
“What stakes do you have tied up in this?” Mason nodded to Tyr.
“My daughter was taken recently. I hope to rescue her and fix her gene, so I don’t have to say goodbye to her forever like you and many other parents do.”
“So, you’re building a terrorist organization.”
“Only against the elementalists—I only want to help the human race.” Tyr spoke with such calmness that it startled Mason. “I want to build a society that won’t tear parents from their children.”
Mason folded his arms. Terrorism would put him directly in opposition to his ranking with the U.S. Army. However, he never said a proper goodbye to his daughter. The seventeen years of silence flooded the gap between his heart and mind. A seventeen-year-old promise to see her on the next break in his service. A promise he had no choice in breaking. He felt her tiny hand slide into his.
“What do you need help with?”