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In the living room, three holographic panels hovered in front of Izdahl. The first one showed the 3D portrait of Gesira Zemi Shabota Amasi. She’d been a highly respected and skilled general who’d lived over three centuries ago. Gesira had led several legions of Amasi warriors to victory against the Basheil. She’d also helped supervise the rebuilding of Nitelvosa and human society after the devastating and long-lasting conflict.
The second panel had statistics on Gesira, including where she was born, battles fought, and her special abilities. One aspect of her Izdahl found most interesting were her baltium wings. In the middle of the war, she’d undergone a natural transformation. It had resulted in being able to change her wings into the strongest metal in the solar system. The way it had happened still remained a mystery.
The third panel listed a selection of sixteen videos containing footage of Gesira in battle. Izdahl had repeatedly watched them, analyzing Gesira’s strategy. He’d even searched historical databases for more footage, no matter how small or obscure.
Lost in thought, Izdahl absentmindedly cast orbs of the four elements. The spheres of air, earth, fire, and water circled each other and drifted around him, as he processed what he knew of Gesira.
The living room light came on and Izdahl blinked, pulled out of his musings. He swiped a hand, making the computer system shut down the holograms. A moment later, the elemental orbs flickered and disappeared.
“What are you doing?” Armando asked.
“I was just looking into something.”
“It’s two in the morning.”
“I know, but I couldn’t sleep.”
Armando stifled a yawn with his hand. “Tell me what’s going on.” He squinted, still looking like he wasn’t quite awake. “I really want to know why you’re holding that helmet. But before you explain, I need to get some tea. Same for you?”
“No. I’m good.”
Izdahl opened the files on Gesira again, continuing to review them, while Armando went to the kitchen. When Armando returned a short while later, he settled onto the couch, looking at Izdahl expectantly.
Izdahl glanced at his baltium helmet that he still held. He’d forgotten he’d even picked it up. Normally, it was in a glass display case. “I thought this would help me focus my thoughts.”
“And what are you thinking about?”
“The spirits I saw in the column of souls at the Elite Fire Dueling.” Izdahl sat next to Armando. “When you brought me back to life, one of the spirits I saw was Gesira.”
“You mean that famous Amasi general?”
“Yes, her. She’s been on my mind more than ever.”
“Why’s that?” Armando sipped his tea, as he waited for an answer.
Izdahl’s fingertips brushed the ridge of the helmet. The baltium was warm to the touch. During the opening ceremony for the Elite Fire Dueling Tournament, Izdahl had worn armor based on Gesira’s. He’d also had the crafter engrave “Armando” in the helmet. While he’d reviewed information on Gesira, he’d repeatedly ran a finger over the etching of his partner’s name.
“This might sound strange, but I think...” Izdahl cleared his throat and set the helmet on a side table. “I think Gesira helped me. When I died and my soul floated away, I saw her in the column of souls. I struggled to get out of it, wanting to get back to you. She appeared and asked me why I was fighting so hard. I told her it was for love.” Izdahl smiled softly as he thought of the moment. “Gesira rallied some spirits and pushed me to the outer layer, so your soul could reach mine.” While he’d spoken, he’d avoided Armando’s gaze the entire time. “Does that make sense to you?”
“Can you look at me please?” Armando asked.
Izdahl didn’t meet his eyes. Instead, he thought of how strange he felt about his recent admission. He’d barely come to terms with it and saying it out loud only made him feel disconnected from reality.
Armando touched Izdahl’s knee. “If that’s what you say happened, then it’s the truth. After everything that went on at that tournament, I have no reason to doubt you.” His voice became softer, filling with warmth. “Besides, if I were ever unsure, you’d always get the benefit of any doubt.”
Izdahl looked at him and smiled. “I wasn’t sure how to explain. It’s still so hard for me to wrap my mind around it.” His voice lowered and became filled with awe. “I’ve idolized Gesira, since I was a teen. Of all the spirits that could have helped me, it was actually her.”
“I want to hear more about what happened to you that night. But I know if I stay up longer, I’ll struggle to pay attention.” Armando yawned. “Forgive me, Iz. Can we get back to bed?”
Izdahl nodded, laughing softly. “Of course.”
He carefully put his helmet back in its display case, before heading upstairs with Armando.
***
After sleeping in, Armando and Izdahl decided to have a leisurely lunch. They were in the middle of making a simple one of roasted vegetables and grilled steak. The air was filled with the scent of well-seasoned food sizzling in the spring air.
After Armando had checked on their food, he leaned against the balcony railing and looked at Izdahl. “Remember when you told me you can crystallize souls?”
“Yes,” Izdahl said slowly.
“What does that mean? How does it feel to the person going through it? Does anyone know?”
Izdahl took a sip of his drink, before asking, “Why’s that on your mind now, of all times?”
“I’ve wanted to know more for a while.” Armando stroked his jaw. “I just wasn’t sure how to ask. It seemed like it was a sensitive topic.”
“You should still ask. If a topic’s too tough to talk about, I’ll let you know.” Izdahl drummed his fingers on the table, with his brow furrowed. “All right. So, when a soul gets crystallized, it remembers its ten highest highs and its twenty lowest lows in a repeating cycle. It’s the worst form of emotional torture.”
Armando swallowed. “How long can that go on?”
“There are still crystallized souls from about a hundred and fifty years ago.” Izdahl nodded as confirmation at the look of disbelief on Armando’s face. “A massive conflict between the Teradas and Ziyads claimed hundreds of thousands of lives. When it was all said and done, the Ziyads won. We were gracious, only taking over some of the Terada territory. We left them three of the nineteen territories they had. We also crystallized the souls of the Terada leadership.”
“Okay. That’s intense. That’s not something widely shared.”
“Not with humans. I told you there are things you don’t know about Nitelvosa culture. You must be careful. There are millennia of built-up resentment. Unfortunately, the battle on the night your parents died was one release valve.” Izdahl held Armando’s gaze, his expression intense. “You must understand this. Be careful what information you ask for. Be careful what memories you stir up.”
“I need to know these things so I can make sense of my memories. They’re still hazy. I can’t stay like this forever, Izdahl.”
“In the end, you might be happier not remembering everything that happened when you lost your parents.”
Armando folded his arms as he leaned against the balcony railing. “How could you say that? I thought you understood.”
“I do and I want you safe. Armando, the things some Nitelvosa will do to minds and souls could break you. Just knowing what’s possible could be horrific.”
His frustration growing with Izdahl, Armando looked off into the distance.
***
Later that night, as Armando slipped into dreaming, Izdahl’s words about being careful echoed in his mind. The warning filtered through surfacing memories that had been locked away for decades. In the morning, Armando’s mind was full of jumbled images.
He awoke to find Izdahl had been gone for a while. On his nightstand was his mobile projecting a text from Izdahl that he’d went to practice fire dueling with Deyn. A cup of tea waited for Armando, kept hot by a heating dome.
As he sipped the tea, he thought of the images that had come to him in his dreams. Before he lost them completely, he wanted to recreate them. He wasn’t sure if that would help in the end, but he hoped he could make sense of the chaos in his mind.
He pulled out one of his drawing kits from his nightstand, went to sit at the small table in one corner of the bedroom and began to draw. Before long, there was a pile of crumpled paper at his feet.
Armando cursed and crumpled yet another piece of paper. He looked out the bedroom window, letting out a huff of frustration at the pile of paper. All fifteen pieces were marked with bits of a design he struggled to remember. The previous night, he’d dreamed of his parents being killed and his recovery in the hospital. An image from that night rattled around in his mind and he struggled to capture it.
It didn’t feel like he was making much progress. Frustrated, he rested his head on the table. He drifted back into sleep. A while later, he felt someone massaging his shoulders.
“Hey. Are you all right?”
He raised his head and smiled sleepily at Izdahl. “Yeah.”
"I thought I was the messy one. What are you up to?”
“Apparently, I’m struggling.” Armando handed him a piece of paper with six geometric shapes. “These are important, but I don’t know exactly how.”
“Some are by themselves. Others you have in combinations. Any significance?”
“I don’t know yet. They’re from a dream.”
"I see. Couldn't you use a tablet to draw these?"
"No. This had to be more tactile. I needed to feel my hands making the arcs, curves, and lines."
Izdahl pulled up a chair by Armando and sat. "How can I help? Why is this so important?"
"When I was in the hospital as a kid, someone came to see me." Armando pressed a hand against his forehead, feeling it begin to ache. It often did that, when he tried to recall memories from such a sad time of his life. "I’m pretty sure he was the same masked and cloaked Nitelvosa from the night my parents died. I'd just awoken and found him standing over me, wearing this baltium mask. He waved a hand over my face and chanted what sounded like a spell.”
Izdahl’s brow furrowed. “No one else saw him?”
“Not at all. He found a way just for me to see him. I was too scared to scream for help.”
“You said he spoke. Did you understand anything he said?”
“No.” Armando massaged his temples. “I do get flashes of images related to him, like his mask. Since then, every time I've tried to describe to others what happened, my head hurts."
"Are you in pain now?"
Armando tilted his head. “A little, but not as much as usually happens. This is so confusing.”
"What made you think of the masked Nitelvosa?"
"When you and I spoke last night, what you said about memories really stayed with me. I understand you’re trying to protect me, but—"
“I told you that you might not want to remember everything, and I shouldn’t have done that. I can’t let my fear for you keep you from getting answers. The right thing to do is help you.”
“Thank you for understanding, Iz.”
Izdahl smiled softly at him. “So, speaking of helping, maybe if I ask questions, that might shake some memories loose. Do you remember anything else about the Nitelvosa at your bedside?"
"Before he cast the spell, he smiled and pointed to a scar on his forearm. I know that scar is significant."
"Can you describe it?" Izdahl asked.
"It was a crescent over some other geometrical shape, like a square or rectangle or octagon. I don't know. I'm only sure about the crescent. It was a raised scar, like he’d been branded."
"Well, put together all of the combinations you can think of and we'll research it. It sounds like a mark someone from a guild might have. There are guilds where the members have a mark, usually a tattoo or a brand." Izdahl stroked his chin. “The members generally don’t show the marks. So, he must have done that for a reason. I wonder if he’s from one of the more unsavory guilds.”
"What do you mean?"
"A guild’s mark isn't automatically negative. For example, there are five accountants' guilds and they each have a special tattoo design. But who knows? Maybe there’s one that assassinates clients who have horrible accounts."
Armando laughed and shook his head. The amusement disappeared when he looked again at the half-finished symbols. He needed answers and the key to the correct questions to ask was still locked in his head.
“Let’s load these on your tablet,” Izdahl said. “We’ll pick different geometric shapes and have a program run combinations. Seeing them might jog your memory.”
“Could we also look at some guild marks?”
“Sure. The guilds are required to register their marks with the Interplanetary Financial Council.”
Armando ran a finger over the symbols he’d drawn. “Then, this might be a better start than I thought.”
“Good. I also have a friend in the IFC who can look into this. I’ll reach out to him today.” Izdahl stood and stretched. He grunted in pain and held his side. “But first, I need to finish healing.”
“What’s wrong?”
“Effects of Elite Fire Dueling training.” Izdahl raised his shirt. “See?”
“Oh, Izdahl...” Armando touched the black and blue area that started on Izdahl's left hip and extended up to his ribs. “That looks horrible. What happened?”
"Training session with Deyn early this morning.” Izdahl laid a quick kiss on Armando’s lips. “You were still asleep and looking quite handsome."
"Don't I always look handsome? By the way, I heard you leave, but I didn't realize you'd be dueling today."
Armando gently probed Izdahl’s injury, until Izdahl flinched and pushed his hand away.
"That really hurts 'Mando. Deyn kicked me all over the place for four hours. He has some serious power."
"I want to hear more, but I have to shower and get dressed. Jakob and I have a site walk-through with a client tomorrow. I’m suppose to meet Jakob to discuss a few last details." Armando peeled himself away from Izdahl. "I can't be late."
"Tell Jakob I was so sexy, you had trouble leaving."
"Right. He’d love to hear that."
Izdahl wiggled his hips. "He can get some of this too."
On his way to the shower, Armando shook his head and laughed.