It was all too soon that the eye was closing. Bathing the world in the frigid dark, only illuminated by another eye, but no warmth would be given by it. Aaron waited in the tent, though unlike the world outside it was comfortably warm inside, a feeling he knew he couldn’t become too familiar with.
He would abandon this place soon enough, to pursue his own desire, but that’s what they’re made for right? Gabriel entered the tent, its feeble entrance being swept aside with ease, and she came with items to help Aaron on his coming ‘trip’.
She had entered with an assorting of dark clothing, which consisted of a zip up hoodie, and grey joggers. Simple, but he wasn’t looking for anything complex to wear, after all the place he was visiting wouldn’t provide any comfort itself.
This place would be a grave, a sight of death, something which won’t be pleasant to encounter. After all, it was all going to be worth it, right. For a truth. Would he find the truth there?
Naturally, he had no real choice in the matter, as staying with Kira’s lot wouldn’t provide him with anything as far as he perceived. Gabriel would leave soon after, words didn’t need to be exchanged, there was no-one for her to convince nor to confide in.
Aaron’s injuries had not healed, they weren’t given the time to, so they ached and protested his movement to no avail. Aaron was not convinced by the cries of his body, so he wouldn’t be by the cries of others.
In his preparation to leave, Aaron would not notice the fast moving steps approaching from the outside. In a burst of energy Max would once again enter the chamber of the tent. With a face which somehow seemed excited yet serious, he jumped into the tent nearing the centre of the room in his leap.
“Kira is coming back!” Max proclaimed to the near empty room, only inhabited by someone who otherwise wouldn’t have listened. Aaron looked over his shoulder to the overly excited boy, and crouched down to meet him eye to eyes.
“Well then. Mind doing me a favour Max?” Aaron enthusiastically questions him, in a tone which would come across to the young boy as important or perhaps exciting. “I want you to tell Kira, that I left without telling anyone, not you, not Gabriel. No-one.” Aaron sternly told Max.
Which seemed to have the intended effect with Max’s face given stricter focus. With a fierce nod Max agreed, and went off on his merry way, leaping through the tent doorway with new found purpose.
Aaron was surprised that Max was so easy to convince, although it could just be the boy has an overly trusting nature. Either way, Aaron now began to make his way out of the encampment, moving through the doors of the tent he was greeted with a slowly ascending eye of night. It crept with each passing moment to the highest point it had reached when he first saw it. The sky once again dotted with shimmering lights which further graced the world with vision and clarity, so it was time to leave.
Aaron skulked, swiftly through the encroaching shadows of the encampment toward a pathway leading away from the centre. With two tents on either side of him, he was completely obscured and would be unimpeded in his leave. Although he couldn’t help but stay to hear Max running up to the returning group of people, which Aaron assumed included Kira. An assumption which would be confirmed.
“Kira!” Max excitedly shouted. As Aaron kept up his pace to the outskirts of the camp he could hear the cheers of everyone, likely in response to Kira’s return. Though he never got to know who they were, he still envied the possibility to do so, but he couldn’t lose track of what he desired.
“Aaron told me, to tell you, that he left without telling anyone.” Max proudly informed Kira, which was met with an audible sound of confusion from Kira.
Aaron couldn’t help but exhale in response to what he’d just heard, it was amusing to think that Max most definitely didn’t do that on purpose. Aaron had finally made his way down the slope toward where he had once so desperately ran away from.
As he descended lower, he was able to recognize the sight of the assault of the man with chains, with that memory a sinking feeling dominated Aaron’s chest. A feeling which was then followed by a chorus of drums from the same place, he could tell that he would eventually meet this man again. Hopefully after he finds what he wants, he decidedly refuses to be killed without closure, without truth.
Down, down, promptly passing the field of battle he passed by the oak tree which had saved his life, though he had no point or way of repaying it, it didn’t stop him from appreciating the thoughtless favour it granted him. It would take hours to reach where he had woken up to 017, and if it weren’t for Gabriel providing him a path he would’ve needed to guess his way from that point to the prison.
Aaron dreaded his decision with a step, but he demanded its outcome with another, a determined cycle which would grant him the will required to reach the truth he so desperately wanted.
Finally, the ground levelled and with it came the rapidly launching melodies of a stream of liquid, he had made it to the river. Aaron couldn’t help but stop in his tracks again, his once bare feet now shielded by an ill-fitted pair of shoes which were ragged and torn.
He peered into the river once more, but he didn’t see curiosity nor confusion, he saw someone willing to die for something they didn’t understand. Was the quest for truth pathed by blindness? Was it ignorance and luck which had gotten him this far?
Only time could tell him the answer to such questions, that was a truth even he couldn’t retrieve, no matter how hard he’d try to achieve it. Each step through the water flung liquid upward, he hadn’t taken the time to embrace it, or use it as a moment of calm.
The last thing he needed was to think, but he didn’t know that if he had just taken a moment to realise, he’d be able to understand the eyes that watched him. The eyes which had guided him down this path, and yet have no empathy or remorse. In fact he more accurately laughed at it, as if it were a sick joke to fear for one's life.
Grey and empty, just like the one who wielded them. Although he wasn’t physically present, Aaron could still feel the inconceivably unnerving presence which drifted off his every word, every blink, every movement. That boy had done this for a reason, if Aaron ever had a choice he had given it up for truth, for clarity.
Yet, if Aaron had stayed in the camp with the others, would the boy's idea still proceed? Would it have taken a different route? Was there a plan? Aaron’s pondering was cut short, as he’d noticed the thickening of the brush, the tree’s grew closer together with each one he passed.
Orange remnants from the bright eye finally faded, the blackened sky had taken complete control. Had hours passed already? A thought which was confirmed by his arrival to where he’d first opened his eyes to the world, except now he understands so much more and yet still feels like he knows almost nothing.
Each time his eyes closed he could see them again, the confusion, the fear that he’d felt in those moments were unsurpassable, for the first time in his life he’d felt he was going to die, a featureless thought, easily discarded and forgotten given enough time.
Worst of all though he would’ve wished for death in that cage, once he escaped all that he wanted was to live and now he wants even more than that. With each step he covered now uncharted ground, the trees felt more imposing than ever before, the brief familiarity he had with his surroundings was now gone.
This place was foreign and those who walked through it would also be, so it’d be foolish to lower his alertness. His mind and body were no longer subdued by the flooding of emotion which completely blindsided any form of judgement, and now he could think straight finally.
Distant grey fumes could now be comprehended even against the sky of shadow, Aaron couldn’t help but swallow to attempt trapping ideas he couldn’t afford to entertain. For his own sake, for survival, as to an extent he knew what was coming next.
Gabriel had told him that what he’d see would make him regret his decision, only if for a moment it’d be a horrifying site and no matter how hard he tried, he wasn’t ready for it.
An ashy, shattered, and unfathomably expansive ruin stood ahead of him, at least the faded wreck which was left of it. He’d imagined the place which encased him was a confined, feeble cage but this was unfathomably expansive. A vastness which only fueled his desire for truth further, as such an imposing structure was reduced to smoky ruins.
An endless swamp, which was dotted with thick red rivers, and blue puddling rot. Together these liquids formed a symbiotic swirling purple, which separated areas of the field as an oily border. This liquid bubbled and overlapped the ash and char of the battlefield, with the combination only confirming the brutality of this battle.
With the ever present smell of ash, metal, and a sickening dryness to the air, it was gag inducing and heavy on the throat. The sight itself proved that the metallic aroma was not just from the remnants of the melting prison but the shadows, silhouettes and lumps of blackened char, mixed with a grey dust which were completed by shallow flowing black liquid.
A disturbingly palpable mixture, thick and visually repulsive. The faceless, and those with faces stitched across the now proven battleground, all those which he’d never seen before nor got the opportunity to discover.
He could’ve known all these people. A burdening truth which his mind could barely comprehend, nor one which he wanted to as such a horrific sight was complemented by the knowledge that this was no merciful culling. This was a purposeful and forceful massacre, where those involved didn’t want to be, he could tell by the faces though they all were covered in varying layers of ash, char, blood and blackened ground.
All of them were of different ages, all of unique appearance, except for those who were covered in strange white masks which wore a grey tactical uniform, which though worth examination it wasn’t worth getting closer.
Many of these uniformed beings were humanoid, and were dealt with ruthlessly. Many were missing limbs, others seemed to have grown more, and much of this growth seemed to only end in long feelers for appendages. A blue viscous liquid drained from these bodies, the second ingredient to the concoction which formed the spiralling royal liquid which puddled across the charred field. Despite the shining of the eye, these puddles clumped into strange holes in the ground, voids of black and devoid of any colour.
Few were younger, though some still young, few looked eerily similar to Gabriel in general features and size. Although in his current position, Aaron had decidedly not attempted to investigate these people, he’d prefer them to be left in black and charred where they may rest permanently. It was an endlessly tolling bell which seemed to rule his decision.
Another in particular, torn asunder in a brutal fashion had uncanny similarity to Jason, though obviously from the eye colour and the hair it was not Jason himself. There was no use getting more intimate with this carnage, not to this sight, and all of this only to be met by the sounds of chains rattling.
A calmer melody, but one just as malevolent, a tune which was met by the sound of beating drums. Unfortunately familiar, a smile greets him. The man covered in chains begins his walk of pure arrogance toward Aaron and not a word would be said.
The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.
“Admiring the puppeteer’s work are we?” A sharp, silent, and invasive thought launched straight into Aaron’s mind. An invasion of the mind which Aaron had now acclimated to after multiple experiences with it, a form of telepathy just as Gabriel said, whatever that actually means is a search for another time.
“Are you talking about me, or yourself?” Aaron replied, a question which he flung into the thoughts of the man in front of him. With that the man’s smile faded, and developed into a depressive scowl.
“You learn too quickly. I suppose I can’t frighten you away, sorry.” The man telepathically informed Aaron, which carried an uncharacteristic grief and regret. The truth stared Aaron in the mind for a moment, he knew what was coming, and his body urgently jolted into life.
Heat and an electric-like pulsating travelling the pathways of his body, with a leap to the left the chain which whipped down its determined path was avoided. A sharp lashing of wind following the finishing of the chain's trajectory, and metallic flashes of reflective, unwarranted light went past Aaron’s eye. With such a pre-cognitive feat the assailant’s brown, emotionless, and bored eyes widened.
“Far too quickly.” A voiceless thought shot again into Aaron’s mind. Which caught Aaron off guard momentarily, though strangely enough the man provided Aaron with the time to scramble back onto his feet.
Perhaps it was confusion, shock, or luck, either way Aaron could only win through the mind he was simply unable to compete on a physical level. He hadn’t taken the time to properly understand how to move his body not with muscle, but with the mind and so he would face the consequence of such.
“I don’t understand, why?” Aaron’s question rang through the man’s mind. Only for him to raise an arm in response, within his palm holding one of the chains which surrounded his torso, overlapping across and encompassing most of his chest. Aaron’s image of the man grew clearer, as he was given more time to clarify what was truly in front of him.
Suddenly, a soft sensation shook the ground, only intensifying until a great large trunk of chains shot through the charred floor behind the man, rising upward almost twice as tall as the man. From this great trunk of metal individual chains wrapped and shot outward, stretching before unrealistically ceasing their motion as if the links between them had been permanently frozen in time.
As a result the construct had been formed in the shape of a great tree, and like vines chains began to morph outward off its branches, hanging near to the blackened floor. In the shallow lights which danced in the sky, with the great eye gleaming down on it, the structure almost seemed benevolent in nature though it proved to be anything but.
“I can’t let him do this. I can’t let you go any further.” The man's sombre thoughts pierced Aaron’s mind.
A thought which only provided Aaron with confusion. The wind after such disruption had once again calmed into a soft humming, which carried the horrible stench of the tomb across the air. With the unexpected calm it took Aaron only a moment to realise the noose which hung around his neck, one made of cold, malicious, metal. A noose of chains.
Tightening, the metal wrapped around his neck begins to pull, as if being raised upward by an unseen force. Aaron’s hands instinctively reach toward his neck, fingers coiling around the chain to prevent it from crushing his throat, pushing back against gravity with all his might. However, he knew this wouldn’t kill him, as what was coming next would, the truth screamed at him a ceaseless ringing in his mind.
The force of the noose ceased, leaving Aaron hanging, barely holding on to his breath and life, though he still lived. His fingers lodged in between the links of the chain prevented its complete crushing of his windpipe, a crunch following the sacrifice of his fingertips, his breath barely given the space to escape his throat.
Bleeding, bleeding, his fingers felt numb as if they weren’t present on his body, an effect of the flattening of the vessels, flesh and bone of his fingers. Though Aaron had to play his hand, the only card he had, compassion.
“Don’t, don’t, I don’t want to die not yet.” Aaron desperately pleaded. His thought travelled through into the man’s consciousness, all he could force into the man’s mind was the pain of the noose, and he was granted a pause of recognition from the man.
“It doesn’t matter what you want, unfortunately. It only matters that you're entangled in the chains of that beast. That means your life is simply forfeit.” The voice stabbed into Aaron’s mind. Which granted no solace nor closure.
For a moment Aaron had believed it was over, that he had come just to die, but the truth had changed. As if on a whim the message which rang in his mind, constructed a different tune, one which showed pain but not the end it had preached before. Time, motion, all of it seemed to slow down in what he still believed would be the lead up to his final moments, but Aaron only had regrets to follow him.
Rushing, rushing, blood had shot out from the left side of his abdomen, but it seemed the ringing was no falsehood, his life had remained. The target of the chain which had flung from the man toward him had been forcefully redirected off centre by an unforeseen catastrophe.
An event which was orchestrated by a bulky blade shaped mound of solid fire, which flowed past Aaron’s eye with a speed and light that he hadn’t expected.
Blood spewed from Aaron, but the man was no different as his arm had been ruthlessly sliced from his shoulder with critical accuracy, and had flown across the field of death as a slashing torrent of red.
Though it was not the end of the injury, as observed, the brutal slash stretched across his body from the impact point of the shoulder to his hip on the other side of his body. Leaving a gigantic laceration which had contributed to the now reddened field which he stood in front of. A creeping smoke contributed to the scene, rising from where his arm was separated from his body, and rose across the cavity which dominated his torso.
“So that’s what the chain meant… I was dead from the start.” The thought concluded. A sombre melody which graced Aaron’s mind, as the chain rattled and creaked before the noose broke into its fundamental links from his throat. Aaron fell to his knees only to witness the sight in front of him in greater visibility.
The tree which the man had constructed remained standing, a monument to the tomb in which the battle had taken place. Though the man himself, with a breath, smoke puffed from his mouth and his eyes grew from a harsh white to a burning red. Though the man still lived, Aaron knew he would, but the truth had seen the man’s life being taken either way.
“Who? Why?” Aaron’s questions which he shot toward the man's mind. Although he didn’t expect it to reach anything, it would seem that the man had attempted to reply to his message. The man’s telepathic reply was overshadowed by the audible voice of a grey-eyed boy, who revealed himself from a mound of ashy, charred structure, bones, and blood.
“That’s A Chain, 028. The second one I believe, as well, the other one died earlier.” The boy gleefully revealed.
An unexpected casual revelation which was delivered to Aaron audibly, communication which he believed was rendered obsolete in the situation.
“Don’t worry, he’s still alive.” The boy cheerfully reassured, “For now.”
He leisurely walked across from where Aaron kneeled, with a little skip he hopped over toward the side of the laying 028, who’s teeth seemed to jitter as the boy approached. Aaron could see as their eyes met, one showed joy to the sight before him, and the one who lay with whatever might his ruined eyes could muster looked upon the other with the greatest of animosity.
The grey-eyed boy was nothing special to behold, though in the unobscured light of the kind eye of the sky, he was far more visible and comprehensible from their first encounter. The grey-eyed boy’s hair was multiple shades darker than the colour of his eyes, which was similarly scruffy, dirty, and unkempt to Max’s. The boy wore a simple grey shirt, which was overlapped by a pair of overalls which completed his entire outfit, and his feet were oddly bare.
“Questions later!” The boy preemptively commanded toward Aaron.
A sly smile drawn upon his face, the volume had caught Aaron in a confused state. He then proceeded to skulk around the laying 028 to the other side of him as if to observe the site before him, and the boy seemed to snicker behind his lips.
“Sorry, sorry.” The boy half-heartedly apologised toward Aaron, with a gesture of flapping his hands up and down. “So, should he die or not?” He abruptly asked Aaron.
Aaron stared blankly at the boy for a moment, processing the gravity of the situation. His eye glided down to the side of his lower torso, and allowed him to fully grasp the extent of his injury.
A terrible tear went across his side, leaking blood periodically which was mildly kept by the pressure of his arm over the injury, luckily the attack hadn’t created a crevice great enough to reveal his intestines.
He looked at his free hand noticing that the circuit of heat which ran through his body seemed to no longer reach his fingers, it was then he saw the extent of the crushing they endured.
Broken, mangled, and bleeding was all that could be seen of his fingers, or what was left of them. Though the shape still held familiarity, he could not feel nor move them. Breathing, breathing, heavy with intensity he couldn’t help but panic, as he saw what had been done to him, and what the boy had done.
“Hey, hey. Calm down, you’re gonna be fine.” The boy leisurely reassured Aaron.
His shallow sentiment would fall on deaf ears, which would be expected as all Aaron could truly hear was a constant ringing. Aaron’s eye looked toward the boy, shaking, unfocused. An expression drew across the boy's face, one showing a level of frustration and boredom.
Three snaps came from the boy, his fingers performing them in an experienced fashion.“Can you focus? I asked you a question.” The boy asserted frustrated. Though he would then sigh with a mild nod of his head, and began to walk toward Aaron.
“Wait!” Aaron vocalised in between breaths, granting himself more time to breathe he then continued, “Don’t. Just give me a moment.” Aaron sporadically communicated to the boy, begging for time.
However, Aaron would not be met by any end, once again the truth told him something else, a malicious line which led up a steep mountain which seemed endless, a long arduous tune.
“Oh. Don’t give me that.” The boy teasingly mused with a shake of his wrist, and a twist of his head toward the side. He bent down toward Aaron slightly, as even though Aaron was kneeling he was near the boy’s height.
“I’m not going to hurt you.” The boy began with an amused smile upon his face, “Probably.” As he began to rotate around Aaron’s position, the environment became ever clearer to his eye.
“You’re mostly fixable, just focus on me for a moment.” The boy happily ordered Aaron. A seemingly innocent suggestion, which his tone made sinister. The boy finished his round-a-bout Aaron and hopped his way back over to the near dead 028.
“You know, you both have very interesting stories, but I prefer 012’s skills. Sorry 028.” The boy superficially confessed to the corpse-like man on the floor.
Although with a twitch of his head, a muted snarl was conducted from 028’s muzzled mouth. This would result in a chuckle escaping from the boy, as he then proceeded to unceremoniously sit upon the back of the brutally injured man, crushing his grave injuries even further into the ash below.
“I’ll tell you what, 012. When one resolves to kill, you should know they can’t be trusted, and you’re right to never trust them. As they are selfish enough to pursue what they desire over life.” The boy explained out of the blue toward Aaron, who could barely listen, nor properly understand.
“However, it’s unfortunate that when it comes to these people, you usually don’t want to trust them.” The boy leisurely said. With a snarky grin which could only be read as extreme amusement, in combination with a lingering arrogance.
“But, you have to for your own desire, even if it risks your own life. As you have not the will to kill, but are still selfish enough to pursue your desire.” The boy finished, a long winded and unwarranted explanation. “Isn’t that cool?” The boy began swinging his head about as if admiring the surrounding battlefield.
“I’m rambling aren’t I? Sorry, I just get excited when I see my mice scurrying about in the same place.” The boy admitted, with a malevolent childish excitement in his voice. “I got off topic. Anyway as I asked be-” The boy began again before being abruptly interrupted.
As Aaron would slam one of his hands upon the ground unprovoked, which was extremely painful, and done without proper rationality.
“My name is Aaron.” Aaron furiously informed the boy, with his voice stuck in a pot of anger, boiling in steaming pain, though his voice couldn’t be raised in his agony.
In truth his statement was merely an act of attempting to raise up the energy to remain alive. The boy broke into a laugh, with an intensity punctuated by the curling of his body into a near ball in response to what Aaron had told him.
“Aaron, 012, A Truth. It’s all the same to me, but if you’re gonna be all ‘Kira’ on me I suppose.” The boy carelessly agreed. He clearly cared little for Aaron’s sentiment before then wiping a slight tear off his eye, presumably from the laughter.
“Well. ‘Aaron’. Sorry, I’m not used to giving my poor little mice names.” The boy prefaced, with a judgmental sarcasm, “Should this, little fucking rat.” The boy shot toward 028 away from Aaron, before then turning back, “Should he die?” The boy leisurely repeated to Aaron, which fell momentarily into an abyss of silence.
“We don’t have much time, you know, before the rest of the horde arrives.” The boy carelessly commented. His legs kicked back and forth, consistently impacting the left side of 028 as he awaited Aaron’s answer.
“No?” Aaron replied, a reply which inquired of curiosity more than a complete refusal. “See Aaron, this is how I know you aren’t listening.” The boy joyfully informed.
He then stood up, and with a devilish smile swung his hand upward and then brought it down with unnatural force. The result of which caused an elongated spear of compressed heat, light, and solid fire to launch toward the laying 028. Aaron outstretched his hand, this isn’t what he wanted. This couldn’t be the truth. Right?