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Theocratic-Monarchy: SunSide
21st Day of Month 6, Year 1628 DG
Alba slips out of bed, her throat clenched shut with a desperate plea for moisture. The skin on her forearm fins cracks from aridity.
Rainwater raps against the window, a light thrumming filling the air. She peers out, hoping to find the positions of the moons through the clouds. The sparkling illumination is faint, but she manages to reconcile that it is close to midnight.
She’s trained to travel without water on long journeys, but training can only outsmart biology for so long. Hoping to alleviate some of the heat in the room, while preventing too much water from slipping in, she cracks the window open slightly, then heads to the kitchen to bathe her throat as the raging storm does the kingdom.
The guest room in which she sleeps is at the end of a long, tiled hallway on the second floor of Saila’s home. Across the hallway is the other guest bedroom, where Unisa stays. Alba walks softly on bare feet until she reaches the angi’s door, then slowly opens it and pokes her head inside.
Unisa is sound asleep, snoring lightly. Alba stifles a laugh, realizing she’s checking on Unisa the way she checks on Kyoko—the way she’s been checking on Ana since she was a little girl.
Old habits, she thinks.
She’s impressed by the silence of the staircase, which she expected to creak and moan as she descends. She finds the cooling box in the kitchen. The light inside springs out into the darkness of the kitchen, providing enough illumination that Alba doesn’t need to activate the lighting panels.
She reaches into the box, removes one of the small jars of water, and ravenously pours it down her throat. As she drinks, enjoying the cool sustenance, a sixth sense kicks in—one she’s developed and honed throughout her career.
A sense that has saved her life on many occasions.
Her heart rate bounces up, and sweat breaks out on her temple. Her skin comes to life with chills and small bumps, alerting her to some impending danger. Something is wrong. Something is happening.
Instinctually, her fingers release the glass jar from her lips, and before it even reaches the floor, Alba turns completely around and snatches something small and sharp out of the air.
A throwing dagger, hurled at the back of her head, now rests innocuously on her palm.
Slowly, she lifts her head as the sound of the glass jar hitting the ground and shattering rings out around the kitchen. She meets eyes with the individual who threw the dagger.
A faerie in an atypical Braver uniform. The usual white hood and colorful face mask are replaced by stone gray and black, as if the Braver is attempting to blend into the ore of the city, and the darkness of night.
The two stand silently for a moment as Alba processes. The Braver’s eyes are wide. He speaks, but his voice emerges barely louder than a whisper. “You’re not Saila.”
“How observant,” Alba responds coolly.
The sixth sense bursts to life again as a minuscule twitch in the faerie’s fingers alerts Alba to his intentions. Before he can reach for another dagger, Alba has launched the one in her hand. The Braver’s body hits the ground with a loud thud as the small knife digs through his eyeball and into his brain matter.
Alba looks down at the shattered glass around her feet, reeling. Bravers. Camouflage. Thought I was Saila. The truth drops on her like mighty bolts of lightning.
It’s an assassination.
She moves as quickly and intentionally as she can through the kitchen. Using the light escaping the cooling box to guide her, she finds four thick cooking knives held in place on a long wooden block secured to the wall. She picks the two longest of these knives and tucks them into her waistband, then heads back to the staircase.
She steps over the body of the dead Braver. Only one thought exists in her mind. Get Unisa out.
As she rounds the corner out of the kitchen and reaches the base of the stairs, her sixth sense comes to life again. A dagger narrowly misses her face as she twists her body back around to the kitchen.
She stands with her back against the wall, listening to the Bravers on the other side beyond the staircase.
“Tell Vy-Ro we have a problem,” one Braver says to another. “Alba’s here.” She hears the other Braver exit to retrieve Vy-Ro, and the dagger-launcher speaks to her.
“This isn’t personal, Alba.”
Alba breathes deeply to swallow her rage. “If you’ve come for Saila, it’s personal.”
She looks to her left and finds a wooden cutting board sitting on the counter. An idea forms. She grabs the board and holds it in front of her as she swings around the corner and out of the kitchen again.
She hears the familiar whoosh of knives cutting through air as she swings the cutting board around, catching one knife after another. Alba advances on the Braver, and by the time six knives have lodged themselves deeply into the wooden board, she’s within striking distance.
She tosses it toward the Braver, who swipes it away with an open hand, and before she can reach for another dagger, Alba has slashed her forearm fins across the Braver’s throat. The Braver falls backward, clutching to control the crimson spray, until Alba pulls a dagger off of her person and stabs it into the side of her head. The Braver’s hands fall limp as her blood begins to pool around her.
Alba turns quickly back toward the stairs and launches up two steps at a time until she reaches Unisa’s door. She enters the room and, in a moment of quick resourcefulness, blocks it with a stout armoire.
“Alba?” Unisa asks, sitting up in bed. She rubs her eyes and takes a long look at the mari. “You’re covered in blood!”
Alba approaches her quickly and takes her hand to lead her out of bed, to the window. “You have to go, Uni. Now. They don’t know you’re here.”
“They? They who?” Unisa says, jumping up out of bed as Alba tugs on her arm.
Alba takes a deep breath and locks eyes with Unisa. “There’s no time to explain. Everything’s going to be alright, but you have to leave. Now.”
“Leave and go where?” Unisa questions frantically.
“Back to the Library. My bedroom window is open. Fly to my room and get the bag with the maps. You can follow the map of Aerthomni back home.”
While Unisa begs for answers, Alba tugs her to the bedroom window and opens it as wide as it will go.
“Why are we going back to—?”
“Not we. Just you. If I go with you, they’re going to hunt us both down. But they’ve only seen me for now, so they don’t know you’re here.”
Unisa takes a step back from the window, her eyes wide with panic. “Alba, you’re scaring me. Please, tell me what’s happening.”
Alba’s bloodied hands shoot up to the sides of Unisa’s face. “Please, Uni. Listen to me. This is important and I have very little time.”
Slowly and reluctantly, Unisa nods, and Alba lowers her hands. “Get the maps and go home, immediately. Do not come back into this house, no matter what. As soon as you’re out of SunSide, send a letter to Saila. She’s with her mother in Eloa, remember? Tell her there was an assassination attempt on her home, and Alba didn’t make it.”
Tears brim in Unisa’s eyes. “Alba, what are you saying?”
Alba shakes her head and places a finger over her lips, then continues. “Promise me that you’ll make sure Ana gets out of the Library.”
Unisa hesitates, then, with a trembling voice, she utters, “I promise.”
“Tell Ana, Kyoko, and Hassan how much I loved them.” She bends forward and affectionately kisses Unisa’s forehead. “Always remember how proud I am of you.”
Unisa whimpers as a tear rolls down her cheek, the lines on her forehead contorting with confusion. The sound of a fist loudly banging against the bedroom door echoes violently around the room.
“Alba!” comes Vy-Ro’s voice.
Unisa’s expression descends into horror. “Who is that?”
Alba brings the angi’s attention back to the instructions. Through her apprehension, she smiles and imparts her final thoughts to the angi.
“Remember what we talked about last night? As long as the Prime is in the dark, you can still change things. You don’t need me. Take his power out from under him.”
Unisa releases a soft sob. “Alba, I can’t do this without you.”
Another series of knocks threatens to annihilate the door.
“Promise me, Uni. Promise me you’ll end him.” She speaks her final words slowly and deliberately. “Do whatever is necessary.”
Unisa nods and lowers her gaze as more tears roll down her face. Alba guides her to the window, and before the angi can protest further, the Ambassador shoves her into the storm. Unissa topples from the second story, hurtling toward the ground until her instincts kick in and she takes control of her descent, flying back up to the window.
Alba closes the window and pulls the curtain, standing alone, hoping Unisa will retrieve the maps from her room and head back to the Library.
And that she’ll keep her promises.
Vy-Ro’s voice and violent knocking continue. Alba smiles, knowing Unisa’s escaped while the Braver General is ignorant. Vy-Ro won’t let Alba leave alive, but she can at least give Unisa a head start. If Unisa follows through on their plan, Alba will have saved Ana, and contributed to the fall of the Prime.
These truths alone give her the peace she needs to accept her fate. She can die now.
She pushes the armoire away from the door, then steps back to address the Braver General. “What have you done, Vy-Ro?”
The knocking stops. There is a chill in the air as silence settles in, before Vy-Ro speaks again, far more softly. “This wasn’t the plan, Alba. Why aren’t you in the Castrum? Where is Saila?”
“Does Saith know you’ve come here to assassinate his daughter?” The silence resumes and, from it, Alba extracts the answer to her question. “He gave the order, didn’t he?”
Silence again. “Speak, Vy-Ro!”
“The Assembly has voted to remove the MegaFather from the throne.” It’s nearly a whisper when it comes out, but it hits Alba’s ears and she understands.
“The announcement.”
“You know?”
“Only that something historic is on the horizon.”
“It isn’t anymore. Saila is the only Member left. Tell me where she is.”
Alba scoffs. “We’ve known each other for years, Vy-Ro. We’re both well aware of how this will end. I’ll refuse to tell you where Saila is, and then your Bravers will try to kill me. Perhaps we should skip the interrogation and proceed to the fun.”
Vy-Ro takes a long pause, but when he speaks, his tone is pregnant with genuine regret. “They forced me to do this, Alba.”
Alba’s blood boils. “Apologies, I seem to have left my sympathy back at the Library. Where is your honor?”
Vy-Ro’s tone hardens. “My honor is in my duty.”
“Correct. And your duties are those of the Braver General. Not those of a subservient lapdog, ready to commit crimes against the theocracy for a pat on the head.”
There’s another long pause before Vy-Ro speaks again. “Any final words, Alba?”
“How many Bravers are out there?”
“Ten.”
“Including you?”
Vy-Ro sighs. “Eleven.”
“Can they hear me?”
“They can.”
“Good. I’d like you all to know: you’re entirely fucked. None of you will make it out of here alive.”
There’s no response. Vy-Ro’s footsteps return along the tiled hallway until he reaches the top of the staircase, or somewhere near it. All ten Bravers must be strategically placed between the bedroom door and the middle of the hallway, where Vy-Ro waits.
It’s not an incredibly long distance; they’ll likely attack her all at once.
Her mind races to establish a strategy. Don’t let them see your back. Number them to keep track.
She takes a deep breath, approaches the bedroom door, and places an ear on it. She can hear and feel them on the other side, ready to attack her as soon as the door opens. Her heart feels ready to burst from her chest.
Excitement, not fear.
Both cooking knives are still in her waistband. She withdraws one and, with her free hand, turns the doorknob and quickly pulls it open. As soon as she does, a Braver with a wide sword, whom she dubs One, charges into the doorway and brings his blade down quickly.
Without hesitation, Alba swings around from behind the door and jams the knife upward through the soft tissue behind his chin. She keeps his body in front of her as she pushes out of the door and into the hallway.
The Braver’s body rattles as throwing daggers are launched in her direction and hit her faerie shield. She takes the sword from One’s hand as Two and Three approach her from her sides. Two wields a sword as well, while Three has ore knuckles loaded on her fists.
Alba throws One’s body down and avoids Two’s slashes, dodging until there’s an opening to swipe her own sword upward between Two’s legs. It makes contact, spraying blood from his groin onto the ground as he screams and covers the wound.
Three’s hand falls on Alba’s shoulder and violently pulls her toward a swift jab with the ore knuckles, to Alba’s jaw. The mari falls onto her back as blood fills her mouth and the room starts to spin.
DON’T LET THEM SEE YOUR BACK, she reminds herself angrily.
Three kneels over her quickly, unleashing a flood of fists. Alba raises her forearms and blocks them, so the faerie moves to her abdomen, where Alba hears and feels the blows crushing her ribs.
Alba jams her forearm fins into Three’s eye and, with the faerie off-balance, pushes her in the way of Four’s oncoming daggers.
Five approaches with a long spear, bringing it down on Alba, who reaches up with both hands and grasps the wood, pushing against the Braver’s downward thrust. The spear hovers in the air just over Alba’s chest, both the Librarian and the Braver pushing it with opposite but equal force.
Alba shifts the point from her chest to her shoulder and allows it to drop. She clenches her teeth from the pain but uses her now-free hands to pull daggers from Three’s corpse and launch them at both Four and Five. The daggers both strike between the eyes and the Braver bodies fall.
Alba rises to her knees and pulls the spear from her shoulder, recognizing the choice is likely unwise.
Five down, five to go.
Six, Seven, and Eight approach together and attempt to encircle her. Alba picks up the fallen sword at her feet in one hand, while tugging another throwing dagger out of Three’s back and holding it tightly in the other. Wet blood drips from her shoulder and travels down her arm. Her ribs throb as all three Bravers advance on her at once, imploding their circle.
Eight brings a long-pole scythe down on Alba and she raises her sword to block him, aiming and tossing the throwing dagger at Six. It hits his throat and he drops to the ground with his axe.
Alba kicks Eight to push him back as Seven swings her mace at the Librarian’s head. Alba grabs the handle of the weapon and swipes her sword at the Braver’s wrists, severing her hands. Seven drops to her knees, crying out, as Eight swings the Scythe horizontally at Alba’s abdomen.
Reacting solely on instinct, Alba twists her body in a fluid motion that allows her spine fins to divert the blade of the scythe away from her, leaving Eight off-balance long enough for Alba’s blade to find his neck. His body falls as his head hangs on to his shoulder by a thin shred of flesh.
She hears Nine’s and Ten’s footsteps on the tile. As cleanly as she can, the sword departs from her hand and finds Nine’s chest, tearing it open and knocking her backward.
Ten is all that remains, his knuckles augmented with short ore spikes. The battle has come down to a blow-by-blow flurry of fists between the Braver and the Librarian.
His flying fists are stronger, but she is quicker. With lightning precision, she evades his jabs and lands every one of hers on his side, chest, and throat. He slows down further, losing steam.
He finally lands a blow to Alba’s side, and then to her stomach, each fist digging sharp points into her skin. She stumbles backward, blood pooling at her feet. He charges at her and she continues to block and evade, but he’s gotten a second wind and lands another blow, this one to her face.
She falls backward, blinded in one eye, red vision in the other. The Braver comes down on her and Alba does her best to block through spinning surroundings and half her vision.
As her body presses against the ground, she realizes she still has one cooking knife in her waistband. Without hesitation, she reaches back for it and jams it as hard as she can through the Braver’s eye, then tears it up and out through the top of his head, showering her with brain matter.
Ten’s body drops onto Alba and she uses what little remaining strength she has to roll it off of her. As she lies on her back, bleeding from the face, shoulder, and side, her ribs destroyed and her eye socket demolished, she smiles knowing they’re all as dead as she is.
All except Vy-Ro.
She hears him approach and kneel down beside her.
“Let me bring you to the Salvers, Alba. They can heal you.” His tone feels oddly remorseful. “Tell me where Saila is, and I promise I’ll save you.”
Alba uses all the strength left in her body to sit up on her elbow, then gathers all of the bloody saliva in her mouth and launches it at Vy-Ro’s face. It covers him, and he jerks his head back in disgust.
“Fuck you, Vy-Ro. And good luck.”
“I don’t need luck. I’ll find her.”
Alba drops onto her back again and smiles. “I know. I meant good luck surviving her when you do.”
Those are the last words that Alba speaks before her eyelids close. She can neither hear, nor respond. Her throat has collapsed, and the pain of her wounds evaporates. Warmth and coolness wash over her body simultaneously. Comfort, in its purest form, as if she is falling asleep in the arms of a loved one.
No pain, discomfort, or worry. No hesitation, grief, or sorrow. She simply goes, slowly, to a place of love. Her senses fail, her mind stops, and her heart pumps a final beat. Her last thought lingers in the emptiness of her dwindling consciousness.
I am in Saila’s home. What a beautiful place to die.
Endless bliss cradles her essence as a loving parent cradles a newborn. It lasts only for a moment, until her eyes pop open again.
She sits up quickly as her senses return. She is conscious, but she feels no emotion—no fear, no confusion. She simply is.
She raises her hands and looks at them. Her body is whole and there are no wounds on her. There is no blood, no injury, no ache. In fact, her skin glows like an ember in a dark room.
She’s clothed in a white outfit; light, airy material covers her from the shoulders down, wrapped around her body. She gets to her feet to observe her surroundings. A verdant forest, more stunning than she’s ever seen before. It feels alive, breathing around her.
What a beautiful place to be reborn.
An entity appears. A grotesque, deformed figure, yet there is still no fear. Somehow, Alba recognizes the entity.
“I know you,” she says to the being, “yet we’ve never met before.”
The entity nods. “All who pass from the world of life come to this place. It is a bridge to the world beyond, and I am its keeper. I am familiar because you are void of emotion, so I cannot feel unfamiliar, frightening, or perplexing to you.”
“Why do I feel no emotion?”
“Because you have no heart. You are simply an essence. And your time has come to move on.”
The essence stands. “I am ready.”
“I must ask you first: are you satisfied with what became of Alba’s life?”
The essence pauses, and in the span of a blink, Alba’s memories flood her vision. “I never got the chance to save my sister from the Library.”
“Did you do your best with what you were given?”
Alba pauses again to consider. “I tried.”
“That is all that matters.”
The entity gestures to an opening in the clearing between two wide trees. The space begins to glow with the brightness of the suns. “Come, essence. Reap what you’ve earned. Live in love—now and for all time.”
The entity begins to move toward the door, but the essence stops her. Something Alba knew—something in Alba’s memories—is important for the entity to know.
“Wait. Before I go, there’s something I have to tell you.”