2022

Issachar

Crimson rays cooked the surface of the stone-white field where life ceased to exist so short a time ago. Heat cast from the sun above cooked the corpses of any unfortunate enough to find themselves in the bonelands when the world had shifted over. The tint of the light casted from the sun hid the blood that boiled from within the decrepit bodies that had attempted to survive against all odds. Coating the ground in a caramelized sheet of dried blood stained the white expanse with brittle patches of murky black splotches that—over time would too catch ablaze and burn itself from the surface of the bone-white rock. Future adventurers would find the bonelands glazed a golden red color as the blood stains the stony white textured surface.

It was a place of terror that held its breath as the true nature of its devilish design were only yet to ensnare those that found themselves within this new world—poised to kill them at any waking opportunity. This was but one of the several million changed landscapes after the turnover of the decade. The planet had once looked entirely different, but if one had enough memory and will, they could almost see echoes of the new world etched into the heart of the new.

The Collapse had snaked through the universe as a singular thread that life would branch off and continue to expand. Echoes of the past universe were etched into the sands and lands across the many continents that have stretched and slammed into one another. The world was different, as much was easily evident in the color of the sky and the noticeably harsher taste of the air in the lungs. But this was true even for the small details—water on average was heavier than before due to increased levels of lead and copper from the atmosphere.

As if by cosmological blueprint, life tended to repeat various states of patterns in geography and landscape. To those that existed in both versions it might seem like a cruel joke or cosmic coincidence in finding shared knowledge of climate and topography, but this was just the lifeblood of the world itself expanding into the infinite outside of the universe. A land given the space to breath and create life as naturally as possible given the set variables.

In late 2022 the world was irrevocably changed—all that was before in the infinite vastness of the multiverse was compressed—overlayed into a single existence. Cities were leveled and re-leveled hundreds of millions of times over. A perfect composite built and joined by imperfect parts infinitae. Multiple existences were overwritten again and again. Those that remain in the new world are those with the strongest wills—those that overcame a cosmic return to the most basic values.

The stone white surface reflected the crimson sun’s rays to a blinding fault. The immense heat that radiated from the surface of the planet cooked the air and sizzled crackling the moisture in the air. It wasn’t uncommon for spurts of fire to crack as the pressure released from all around.

The bonelands stretched on for miles and remained as quiet as the natural hum of the planet underfoot echoed across the empty space. Empty, but for the two figures that sat in quiet communion ten feet below the surface—the only area of the bonelands not lethal to step foot in. The population at large had not yet faced the horrors of the bonelands—only but a few months had passed since their spontaneous growth because of The Collapse.

The first few weeks after The Collapse the area was frozen solid and covered in a thick layer of ice. The spires that rose from the surface jutted up like hooks of frozen bone. Monsters from below looked to be reaching for the heavens, cursing the angels for casting them out from their Eden. Of course, from such angels, one might say they looked like the talons great mythical beast carving its way out from the center of the planet.

The caverns networked under the earth for a considerable distance throughout all sides—carved out by the two deep within networking the tunnels. The goal was to make an alternative path through the bonelands without needing to bare the reflected heat that cooked the air above. Down below, among the dark emptiness that held little else other than jagged stone and subterranean insects—small, colorful critters that scuttled against the hard earth in search of any sort of sustenance in the new environment. Issachar sat on a rough edge. He pared away a chunk of rubble from the wall and brought a hand up to wipe away the beads of sweat that had started to form. He stood in the body of Lillian Jones.

There remained still a rumbling of her voice deep underneath the surface—still begging for release and for penance. However, it has not yet sunken in that the work they had been doing was to be her penance. It was almost a humorous thought that humans of this age could be so blind to that which will benefit the most people on a cosmic scale. That which benefited just the sole was often the incorrect way to think about life on a global scale. Humans of this age tended to prove how little they chose to listen to one another.

Issachar had wiped beads of sweat off Lillian’s brow. He could thank that she was in shape—quite more than other people her age. Although it was still tiring work excavating, and they still had so much more work to do. It had been a few months since the passing of their father—the creator of everything that they knew—Z-One, and still so little progress had been made. And even though they were safe from the sweltering heats from above the surface, it was still hotter than what was comfortable down below. Just because they could survive in it did not mean it was not fraught with peril if they weren’t careful.

The tunnels themselves looked like the work of small creatures defending themselves against the harsh pressures of the sun, and while that purpose did hold true, they would be essential for all walks of life as the bonelands above would soon be known for the copious number of carcasses lay stretched across the surface. It was a form of public service they provided, and Issachar couldn’t help but laugh at the image of both working with luminescent vests that could have only existed in the old world.

Passing was the harmless way of describing what had happened. That was how they were meant to think of it—to harden one's heart by distancing themselves from the human aspect and the reality that in said passing, life ended. In order to restart, sacrifices were made. And Issachar knew that more than most—he didn't think he would forget the sight of his Father's body in the Great Library anytime soon. It was however burned into his memory.

Among their litterings in the underground bunker were a couple of books—a few of them were splayed open to show hand-drawn maps of the carvings of the underground. The dashed and hurried markings implied a rush that the two figures had felt in marking the page. Would these maps be found by other travelers across the bonelands, or would they be reproduced in annals down the road? Neither of them knew, but the ever-fleeting hope was that they could return to their world before that would ever become a reality.

He was facing Sakonna, the youngest of the Children of the Night. She often took the form of a dragon, but when she didn't—like now—she looked like a woman named Ai Nagatomi. A vessel who had aged considerably slowly considering how long ago she had taken it up. She had told him that it was sometime around the fourth century—but he wasn't sure how much of that was folktale and how much was the truth. Sakonna had the habit of embellishment. That quality was absent in her face now—she sat with a look as hard as the surrounding rock on her face.

"You doubt me." Sakonna said. It was a statement devoid of any doubt, unphased by the implication of the words. It was an easy enough accusation to throw out considering her history, and she knew that he knew. Anyone else she had spoken to would have taken it as almost offensive. Yet, he could detect the whimsy laying behind her words.

Issachar would have noted some sort of humor in her voice if the reality of the situation weren't so grave. It was something about her that he didn't care for. He knew she often clashed with their other siblings on policy and ideology, and while he did tend to agree and take her side on these kinds of arguments, her acting this way didn't lend her any credence. It was almost as if she thrived on the conflict itself.

"It's not that," Issachar sprawled out and looked toward the roof of the cave. The staggered rock chunks clung tight to the ceiling above. It almost threatened to cave them in if he looked away too long. He heaved a sigh and looked back to her. "Nothing about this situation makes sense. Of course, I don't believe you could have killed him—I didn't even know he could be killed, honestly. But you're not someone I suspect."

She regarded him with a curious sound that almost sounded like that of a teacher when confronting a child about questionable behavior. He wasn’t exactly sure how to feel on the dynamic.

"That is good to hear," she said. She rolled her eyes around and turned away for but a moment. "For what it's worth, I don't think I did, either."

"Are you being coy or are you trying to tell me you don't remember what's been going on?" The humor she attempted to inject was not lost on him, but he hardly thought it was the time for it.

She smiled small, that irksome gesture that forced a sigh out of him like a great vacuum.

"Come on," Issachar reared his head back. "This is serious business. I understand why you’re acting this way, but I am asking you not to."

"You don't have to tell me that," Sakonna said, her voice hardened—her face shifted in an instant. "I'm aware of how serious the situation is. It's laughable I had anything to do with it, and it's laughable that we're even having this conversation right now."

"It's not," Issachar said. "And by that, I mean Samael's serious about this. He, Ez, and Ormus are mounting an investigation. They're going to be looking through everything."

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Memories flooded past his eyes and Issachar flashed back to the conversation he had with Samael back in the Great Library. He saw how solved the situation had seemed in his eyes—and just how little he cared whether Issachar felt one way or the other on it. He was only means to an answer, and that more than anything burned him up inside. How confidently and stubbornly refused to hear anything he had to say on the matter. How quickly and succinctly he was categorically denied even a chance to plead his opinion.

Even though he thought Ezrael and Ormus were more levelheaded than Samael was, the trio as a whole were definitely a problem if they had suspected Sakonna. The three of them were the eldest of the Children of the Night, and if Samael was able to convince the both of them of his reasons, that didn't spell good fortune.

"Listen," Issachar started. He sat up and clasped his hands together, "We just need to iron out all the details and approach this rationally. There must have been something off when you last had company with father. Anything out of the ordinary, anything that could lead to who could have actually done this?" He looked to her expecting her to follow off of his prompt.

"I can't tell you that." Her words were blunt. There was no more humor to her voice.

He could tell he crossed into some conversational tripwire and knew he'd have to tread carefully. Issachar cocked his head, running his hand through Lillian's hair he sighed and returned a frustrated look. "Why not?" Sakonna offered nothing, which only frustrated him more. "Come on. You have to give something. How are we supposed to convince them you didn't do it?"

"I don't think they would buy anything I had to tell them if they're this far into it."

"Not if you don't give them anything," Issachar groaned. Sometimes she seemed aching to make things more difficult. "You think so badly of them and trust me, I understand your frustration with Samael. I am not his favorite nor he mine. But it is hard to help you if you're not doing anything to help yourself."

"Then don't help me. I never asked for it."

He didn’t know how to answer. They were layers deep, and he had to take a deep breath to handle it from the start.

"I know you didn't do it. You know you didn't do it. But if they conclude that you did and you don't say anything in your defense, they're going to kill you." Sakonna was silent. "Did father tell you to be quiet about it?"

Her continued silence was enough of an answer, he thought. It was an answer, but that didn't mean that he had to like it—he didn't like the added questions that it brought. The questions only further fueled the confirmation that he was way in over his head in all this. This fear deep inside him that had only continued to fester with the passage of time. He had specific tasks and goals to reach. All of this mystery was...nebulous. Unaided, and worst of all it was tearing his family apart.

"Do you have a plan? At least tell me you’re thinking of what to do next. I know you love contributing to the global good as much as I do here, but there has to be a next step.”

"I have pieces of ideas floating in my head," she began. "I must admit I am not prepared for the events that have happened—I had been so focused on acquiring the energy from the SubCon Facility that I mistakenly allowed this path to transpire—and right under my own nose."

"It's taken us all off guard," Issachar tried to comfort her. “You have to believe at least that much.”

"Not all of us," She mused, bringing a hand to her chin and she tapped slowly. "I do think Samael's right in the idea that one of us is responsible. Instinct tells me that he's responsible because of his determination to see me hung for it, as it were...and that'd be no great waste on my conscience..."

"But Ez and Ormus..." Issachar said.

Sakonna sighed. "I don't know what dirt Samael's got. But if it's enough to convince them, nothing I will say will convince them otherwise, I fear. Lest they would have raised their own objections by now, and we wouldn’t be in the mess that we’re currently in. Unless you mean to assume that Samael does indeed have nothing, and the three of them have decided that even regarding so I must take the fall for it.”

Issachar was silent to this, wondering the legitimacy of the question.

“...in which case, I would stand just as much to convince them otherwise, no?”

Deep down, Issachar knew this was possible—likely even. The bond that those three shared was unique. Several small cliques had formed in the Children of the Night—many who had come to this world around the same time had tended to bond with one another. It wasn't too hard to understand why—being alone in a strange place all by yourself was one of the worst feelings that one could ever experience. It was reassuring to know that a familiar face was nearby to help in the transition period.

He knew that Nehemoth and Scantar had formed a close relationship...at least before they went silent. That was...definitely a cause for concern, but it at this time could be for a myriad of reasons. And Samael’s own reason for not even entertaining them as suspects as he did Sakonna was equally as maddening. It made him think that they were missing rather than hiding. But going down that rabbit hole made things infinitely more confusing.

Then there was Thagirion. He was penchant to remain in solitude, but Issachar did know that just as Ormus had acted as an older brother style role to himself, so did Galgaliel to Thagirion. Back in the before, the two of them were close if he remembered correctly. But even then, Ezrael also formed a notable third to that dynamic, which made things even more complicated when she also acted as an elder alongside Samael and Ormus.

It was lonely to think about his and Sakonna’s situations here, alone. They had each other, sure, but it certainly felt like they were always othered when it came to the other Children. Like they were meant to be raised to take the fall when things came down against the plan. When, all for what they had been trying to accomplish it had seemed like they had been the only ones acting in accordance with the plan. That thought too, was maddening.

Of course, he knew that boiled down to him and Sakonna being the first two to make contact with the planet. That was what made it so easy for him to relate to Sakonna.

He was the second youngest of them, although he had come to this planet much longer after Sakonna had. Even so, she was one of the only Children on this planet before the time of the Collapse. She had this entire planet to herself, at least, until he came along.

He had landed almost exactly in the same place that she had—a tiny village by the name of Steinschild almost thirty years prior. The environment itself was changed, for sure, but compared to the rest of the world, time seemed to have passed in slow motion. The village itself remained true to its traditions of old and its seclusion from the more modern societies around it was truly a marvel that historians would marvel at.

Legends floated around since Sakonna’s arrival about a dragon that lived in the mountains, and so his arrival had only influenced and blossomed local folklore. He almost wished he could have witnessed the depth of the stories told about him, but his priorities had always kept him busy and away.

By the time he landed Sakonna had already been on the planet for a millennium and a half. In his time, he had spent several years searching for the perfect vessel to inhabit and interact with the world—the body that would cause the least amount of disturbance on the global scale. He searched the multiple universes for an utterly despicable human that he could remove from the equation—and to be truthful his list was rather large. There was a lot of people that seemingly only lived to cause others harm and misfortune.

But to him, something about his search became personal. He knew of Allison Fae—the infant Ormus had brought into the world. She was perhaps the one human in this world he knew most about. After all, he had appealed to Ormus' sense of morality more than once on the topic. One might even call her his humanity—something treasured but kept away from their goals. Allison Fae had formed a bond with Lillian Jones, and Lillian Jones wasn't the worst human imaginable. She did heinous acts, and for selfish reasons, but it was because she intended to cross paths with Allison that Issachar had known he had found his vessel.

In some twist of fate, things for Allison had been decided when Issachar had made his move. This, he didn't wish. He desired her to understand his actions and why he had done them—so that she could move on from her pain and lead a happy life for as long as she was able. He knew that Ormus reflected these wishes, but in private.

Instead, Allison Fae held onto her pain. He could not read her thoughts, but he knew that she had started a journey of her own. She desired to find them, him specifically. He didn't know if she meant to kill him, but unfortunately, he could not risk that chance. Of course, he understood if she had meant revenge. While he hoped that wasn't the truth, he would be foolish to ignore the likelihood of the situation.

"So, what's your idea? Your proto-plan so to speak?" Issachar asked, returning to the present.

Sakonna stretched and she craned her neck, facing Issachar. "I'm going to search out the Monoliths myself."

"You're kidding, right? I don't have to tell you that this is a serious matter."

"No, you don't. My methods aren't going to be changing, of course, but the end result..." She looked off to the side.

The Monoliths...the end of the Children of the Night's desires. Fragments of the Infinity Engine GODSONG that powered creation. Twelve fragments of immense power that by themselves could start and end wars worldwide.

"You're seriously thinking of going against the rest now?" Issachar asked.

"I'm making no large show of it, but once it's noticed I can't do much to hide it. It's not like the others have hidden the agenda against me."

Issachar knew that she spoke the truth, and that when she was determined about something—it was going to happen. He stood at the edge of a precipice and knew his decision without a second thought.

"I'll do my best to help you."

She offered a kind regard and the both of them in that moment the vow was burned in their hearts.