Chapter 14

Preparations

ARIEI

The suns send their light down to us through the cracks as I roughly pull the oil container across the ground. I’ve allowed it to pool in across the ground, linking with the trails the others have made. It’s taken since early in the morning for us to plan this, especially since the children that are unable to help remain safe in the emberstrand headquarters.

Aaro has managed to obtain the drums from one of the few storerooms still standing. Whereas much of the other stores were wasted after the centralians unleashed their fire, these were tucked away along the eatmost wall under the shelf of a larger toolshed. I’ve cast aside my foolish plans to bury everyone- I wish nothing more than to do so, but even I know that it’s impossible deep down. Emetia devised another plan- to pour the oil amongst the ruins of the city, to set it ablaze, and to finish the job with the remainder of our industrial mines.

If we cannot give them a proper burial, then we can at least grant them a funeral by fire.

I wipe the sweat from my brow, thankful now to be dressed in short sleeves. My muscles ache from working so long. Luciaphon has been following me, occasionally splitting off to investigate something that interests catches his eye.

“You could be helping, you know.”

He peeks his head through a shattered window, gazing lazily.

“How could I? I have no opposable thumbs.”

“You have those things under your mane!”

He slides back through the caved-in door, returning to the wider city streets.

“They are for defense, not aggression. It would be impolite to waste such gifts on rolling a meager drum.”

I can see the membranes click as he speaks. Their construction is bizarre, a set of symmetrical, multi-jointed bone structures with bizarre two-pronged claws at the end, hidden deep beneath the tuft of golden illuminated fur.

“I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t unsettled.”

He releases a short groan.

“It’s understandable. I’m quite the unsettling creature.”

He starts walking in front, before pausing.

“That’s an advantage.”

I smirk.

“When are you going to show me your ‘form’?”

“When we are in danger.”

“Oh, you can spare-”

“WHEN WE ARE IN DANGER. We must not use these abilities out of turn- they are dangerous. They are a gift. They are finite.”

I shrug, returning to the container.

“Fine. I understand.”

“You understand, but you are hasty. You must set your plans for the future aside. We have more important matters to attend to.”

I feel like responding, but instead decide to bury the thought. Instead I keep moving, rolling it further down until I complete the street. I stare further out, towards the destroyed lift. The smell hasn’t improved in the slightest- it’s only gotten worse since yesterday. I hear a noise coming from my right- footsteps. I turn to see Emetia approaching. She wipes her hands on her slate-colored sleeveless shirt.

“Alright. I have most of my side done. You?”

I nod.

“Yeah. I think we have most of it. Have you seen Gaevan and Bryatt?”

She gives me a sly smirk.

“Bryatt’s done. He’s covering Gaevan’s assignment while he knocks back a few glasses.”

“Well, I can’t blame Gaevan. He’s doing it while he still can.”

“Right.”

She looks around at nothing, before facing me again.

“Ariei. I’m sorry about yesterday.”

“Emetia-”

“No. It was wrong. We’re all grieving here. All of us, in our own fucked up ways. And I took my grief out on you.”

I shake my head.

“You don’t have to apologize. It’s a lot to take in. I’ve made my own mistakes. I’m sorry for being so threatening. It’s… hard for me to trust people.”

Emetia takes a few steps forward. I read the cue and follow along. The streets have started to develop their own character in their distance from what I knew. Each piece of rubble, each broken esperstone engine, every single piece of ornamentation people have roughly drawn out of our limited buildings that now lay dead- it’s a new ecosystem. A new garden. Emetia stops as we move past the faraway manufactoria. Its roof has caved in, the spires of machinery and equipment rising above to resemble a broken crown.

“Emetia?”

It’s then that once again see the scars that cover her arms like a natural mosaic. She hears me, but waits a moment before responding.

“You know, I hated that fucking place. Always wished it’d burn down. And now that it’s gone- I miss it.”

I move closer to her.

“I understand. I never thought that I’d gain a sense of home from headquarters, and now it’s the only building still standing.”

She snickers.

“Did it change that fast for you? Even after one day?”

I nod. She smiles and shakes her head.

“I had to work myself halfway to death inside that place from the age of twelve for my brothers and sisters. My father died in a tavern brawl, and my mother- well, you know. There were so many days where I wished they were there, but I had to take on their role. And it meant nothing. After everything, I’m the only one still here.”

She says it with a vocal emphasis of bitterness, but I can tell there’s more than frustration there.

“I don’t think it meant nothing.”

“It’s easy for you to say.”

“No. You made their lives better. Even if they’re gone, you made things better for them.”

She walks away from me, keeping a slight distance. I try to keep up, my feet moving over the broken ground.

“Emetia.”

She stops.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

“I’ve already told you to stop apologizing.”

Luciaphon has caught up to us. He’s carrying a small sack in his jaws. He brings it over to us, dropping it at our feet. His massive fangs have cut holes symmetrically across its surface, causing a small amount of liquid to spill out. I look through them. Fruits.

“Where did you find this?!”

Emetia looks from me to the beast. She seems thankful for the change in subject.

“I’ll never get used to you just thought-speaking with that thing. It looks like you’re having a staring contest.”

Luchiaphon sits.

“From the cellar of that building. I took some time to explore while the two of you were reminiscing.”

“This is great!”

I root through it, dragging the bag over to show Emetia.

“Look!”

She kneels down, pulling a thick yerneip from the sack. It looks relatively ripe- these were probably gathered from the gardens the morning of the attack. She goes to take a bite.

“Emetia-”

She holds up her hand, still chewing.

“Please. I-”

She swallows.

“-needed this.”

I smirk.

“Alright then. Help yourself.”

She laughs.

“You should join in. They’re fresh.”

I think it over. There are thirteen left. She smirks.

“Come on. The others won’t miss a thing.”

I sigh.

“Fuck it.”

I sit and take a huge bite out of one of them. She’s right- it’s delicious. Sweet, juicy, soft. I nearly devour half of the thing in just two bites, the juice dribbling down my chin. I hear a sound next to me, but I barely pay attention- until I hear a soft thud.

Luciaphon has settled himself next to me.

“I wish to partake.”

I ignore him for a second, before he playfully batters me with his paw, nearly knocking me over.

“I wish to partake. Empath.”

“Ugh, fine.”

I toss him the remainder of the fruit. He takes the entire thing and devours it in one swift motion, his powerful jaws working rapidly. The emblem across his head illuminates softly.

“Can you even eat those?”

“They are unfamiliar to me. We do not possess these in Centralis.”

“Isn’t it bad to eat a whole one without even knowing first?”

“Our lives are a series of victories and mistakes. This is just one of either.”

I climb to my feet, only just now noticing Emetia’s uneasy posture. It’s easy for me to forget how strange this is- it’s strange for me, but I at least have direct contact, accurate context. To Emetia he’s just a domesticated demon.

“Comfort her.”

“What?”

“Go on. Let her touch you.”

“I AM NOT A SHOW BEAST-”

I bend down and pick up another yerneip.

“I’ll give you another.”

“You- agh- cruel creature. Fine. So be it.”

He starts walking towards her. She starts to climb to her feet.

“Emetia, it’s all right. I’m in control, remember?”

She nods, standing as still as she can. Luciaphon calmly approaches, breathing heavily out of his nose. She’s shaking, tense. She looks at me.

“Go on. Touch him.”

She gingerly levels her hand out, approaching him. He stands still, calm. She closes her eyes, slowly lowers her hand, and, after a brief moment, opens them. She slowly runs her hand over his mane, moving towards the back. Luciaphon emits a soft groan, locking eyes with her. I smirk.

“See?”

She nods.

“Yeah. H- how are you doing this?”

I walk towards the two.

“I’m going to be honest- I barely know how. It just happened. We made the pact. We’re linked- it’s something from beyond.”

She laughs.

“This is fucking insane. You know that, right?”

I chuckle to myself.

“Yeah. Yeah it is.”

We remain there for a moment, simply enjoying the respite. Eventually Emetia lets Luciaphon rest, and I toss him the yerneip. I start walking back down the street, the oil splashing up occasionally as I step.

“Wanna head back?”

She stands still, once again facing the manufactoria.

“Emetia?”

She quickly turns her head.

“Is there any oil left in that drum?”

I grip it, shaking it lightly.

“A tiny bit. Why?”

She rushes over and grabs the edge out of my hands. She starts rolling it back towards the manufactoria.

“EMETIA?!”

I give chase, following her along. She makes her way over to the broken door. I catch up, moving behind her.

“Emetia, what are you doing?”

She rolls the barrel into the destroyed building. The formerly organized belly of massive mechanisms and unique contraptions is dusty, wrecked, broken. Broken glass litters the floor, lying amongst scraps of copper and steel. With a grunt she places it upright in the center, the liquid lying at the bottom.

“If the centralians were able to get their hits in, I’m going to get the last say of this godsforsaken factory. I get the final statement.”

“Emetia…”

She turns.

“Bryatt was right, Ariei. This is our chance. This is our new beginning. Ios will just be a memory.”

As we return to the headquarters I pass Bryatt as he catalogs the minute amount of gear we’ll be able to carry. I nod to him as I walk.

‘Where’s your sword?”

I pause.

“What?”

He smiles broadly, motioning with his hand.

“You know. Your fancy sword. Aaro was telling us about it. She’d never seen you carry it before.”

In a flash I see her face. I see my bloodied hands. I see the moment I try to kill her.

I see myself slicing through the nerve in my wrist.

I can’t breathe. I can’t think. I turn away from him and rush into the building I start to walk no run upstairs I have to get awahave to get awahave to get

I’m in a room. It’s dark. I’ve locked the door behind me. I’m covered in a blanket. I’m not sure when this happened.

Somebody knocks on the door.

“Ariei?”

I climb to my feet. Aaro.

“Ariei? Are you alright? Bryatt told me what happened.”

I have to remind myself how to speak.

“A- Aaro-”

“I think you’ve had a panic attack, Ariei.”

I breathe slowly. My heart is still thumping.

“A- a panic attack?!”

I hear her move slightly outside.

“Can I come in? I’m worried about you.”

“Yes.”

She slowly opens the door. As soon as she does she slowly walks over to me and wraps her arms around me.

“I’m sorry, Ariei.”

She releases me.

“Are you alright?”

I nod.

“Y- yes. I- I’m not sure how that happened. I don’t know why that triggered it, of all things. I’ve seen so much more since yesterday. Why would that be it?!”

Aaro moves past me and sits on the bed. I follow her, the two of us side-by-side.

“Ariei, I think it’s just catching up to you.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?!”

“What I mean, Ariei, is that you’re not invincible. It’s alright.”

I bury my face in my hands.

“It’s not alright, Aaro. None of this is alright.”

“No.”

She puts her hand on my shoulder.

“It’s not a weakness, it’s not a flaw, it’s not a failure. No matter what the guild, or your peers, or Liet pressed into you.”

I lift my head to lock eyes with her.

“You’re human, Ariei. You’re allowed to grieve. You’re allowed to feel.”

I pause there. My mind flitters between confusion and acceptance. I reach the point of acceptance. I cannot simply leave things be. I have to face them. I try to hold back the tears. I turn away from Aaro. She leans in.

“Ariei. It’s alright.”

I can’t. I crack. I start to cry. It starts slow, but it builds until I can’t stop anymore. Aaro embraces me.

“I miss him. I miss my father.”

She speaks softly.

“I know, Ariei. We all do.”

Several hours have passed. I’ve regained my composure- at least enough to appear confident. Aaro told me that it wasn’t necessary, but I still need to lead. I have to.

Bryatt has prepared our packs beforehand. Each of us has a mask with six filters each, along with two of the civilian medical kits per person. We each have a standard civilian blade, alongside a coremag rifle. Emetia had argued about giving weapons to the children, but Bryatt and I both held the argument that it was necessary. We need everybody fighting if we’re going to survive the surface.

I stare over the table, keeping eyes on everybody as they double check their belongings. The others seem to have searched thoroughly, even the children. I count and double-check my own. I have all of the items we share, plus the items from the box in Braham’s room. I have a sudden realization.

Braham’s room.

I need to have one final look, even if I don’t want to.

I make my way upstairs and slowly creak the door open.

It’s much the same as Liet and I left it.

It’s a strange mixture of nostalgia and dread. It was a time before the calamity, and it feels like an entirely different era than what we’re currently living. I peruse his shelf once more, looking through the items again. I move to look under his bed, feeling around for something.

I can’t find anything more.

I stand and turn to leave, but a nagging thought worms its way into my mind.

Search. Everything.

And so I do.

I search the shelf once more. I check the closet. Search for hidden cranks, buttons, anything. I tear apart the bed.

There.

As I lift the mattress, I see something. It’s faded. Ancient.

It’s an object. The inside looks like microgranite, but it’s unlike any microgranite I’ve ever seen. It’s thin, almost see-through. There are hundreds of them, stacked together roughly. I flip through them. There are strange symbols printed upon them in neat, tight rows.

They are in a language- a symbology- I am unable to understand. The same language on Braham’s medal.

I flip it to the thick front panel.