Casiq Guybana stared vacantly out of the tall, pointed window of his quarters from the darkness within, toward the plains of waste that stretched out over the west of the city. His eyes were bloodshot and bulging, and his rapid breathing fogged the glass. The scattered number of bright-faces roaming the plains near the city turned their gazes toward his window, as if noticing him. Some of them ignited the lights from their eyes, and swayed back and forth, emitting their ghoulish chitter. The Casiq watched them with his fevered look, his mouth hanging open slightly.
“Casiq,” one of the acolytes said from the darkness further within his bedroom chamber. “The captain of the guardsmen would have a word with you,” he said gently. “He’s waiting in the hall.”
Guybana barely heard him. He was whispering to himself.
After a moment, the acolyte stepped forward nervously.
“Casiq?”
“Nonsense,” Guybana said. “It’s of no import,” he waved a hand towards the acolyte without turning to face him.
“What shall I tell him, Casiq?”
“Go away, go away!” he shouted. “And you go away! All of you, out!”
The acolyte took a step back, confused, then spun on her heel, signaling the other acolytes to follow her out of the chamber.
“ALL OF YOU OUT OF MY SIGHT! If the city cannot run for a moment without a word for me, then it doesn’t work at all! It’s all nonsense! Do your duty and leave me to rest!”
Half a dozen acolytes filed out of the chamber through the main entrance, and closed the door behind them. Guybana trotted toward the door just after it closed, and violently slammed the bar lock shut. He stood on his toes, and peered out of a small slot in the door.
“Stay out of the hall! Stand and wait downstairs by the landing, and leave me alone.”
Through the slot, Guybana could see the acolytes and the captain making their way around the corner and down the stairs.
He was alone.
Guybana lurched toward an ornate desk, and collapsed into the large chair behind it. He found a taper, lit it, and placed it before him. It warmed the immediate area, and he bent forward to examine it with his restless eyes.
“Speak to me now,” he whispered. “Oblivion swallow you whole, speak to me now, spirit. Don’t be silent.”
Guybana’s heavy breathing made the candle flicker. He waited, darting his eyes left and right, then returned them to the candle. All to be heard was the distant chittering of the bright-faces of the waste.
“Bastard,” he whispered, and closed his eyes. He lowered his head onto his hands, and began to breathe more slowly. Deeply. “No more nonsense,” he groaned to himself. “No more. No more dirty angels. No more of this business.”
After a peaceful moment, Guybana was awakened by a creaking sound farther into his chamber, where the darkness was absolute.
NO MORE NAPPING, a voice spoke from that darkness.
Guybana bolted up straight, his eyes popping halfway out of his head once more. He took the taper with a trembling hand, and stood behind the desk.
“Are you here?” he said, quietly.
There was no response.
Guybana crept slowly from the desk, into the darkness of his chambers, exploring the blackness that surrounded him with the dim light of the candle. The hand that held it trembled, so he braced it with the other.
“Where are you?” he asked the darkness.
Down the hall of his private quarters, a door creaked as it opened slightly.
Guybana’s breath became shallow again, and he swallowed hard. With careful steps, he made his way down the hall, watching the door that creaked.
It opened even further.
I AM HERE, the voice beckoned from behind that door.
Guybana took one step into the room, and looked about with trepidation. His enormous bed was messy, the tall window just above it ajar. The curtains that surrounded it floated and rippled in the gentle wind that entered his bedroom.
Guybana turned toward the far side of his room, where stood his wardrobe, next to an enormous wood framed mirror in the corner. Angled as it was, he could see himself: a small, fragile waif of an Althelib, with a tiny little light fighting against the wind.
Guybana crossed the room and closed the window, and the room became still.
I AM HERE, the voice said, from the direction of the mirror. The voice was clearer.
Guybana took a few steps towards the mirror, until he stood directly in its path. He looked at his face, and nearly recoiled. Under his large eyes were discolored, wrinkled bags, and the blotchy skin under his chin sagged. His thin lips were curled downwards, and his teeth seemed stained, and rotten. It was a ghoulish visage. He blinked, and touched the bits of gray fur growing unevenly on his jowls.
“I look so old,” he reflected unhappily. “I think it’s Timot’s turn,” he said, nodding his head. “This would be a good time to retire.”
COME CLOSER, the voice said. It was a gnarled, unearthly ripple of vibration, deep and calm. It seemed to twist in the air, beginning in one place behind Guybana, circling around him to the front, and back again.
Casiq Guybana reluctantly obeyed, and took a few more steps toward the mirror. His movement was uneasy, and for a moment, it seemed he would falter and lose his balance. But he righted himself, and stood close enough to the mirror to touch it.
The candle struggled to remain lit, and Guybana noticed.
“That girl saw you,” Guybana mumbled. “She knew about you. Somehow.”
WE PERCEIVED ONE ANOTHER. NOW EVERYTHING MUST CHANGE.
Guyana swallowed and licked his lips. “I… I’ve done everything you’ve told me to do,” he stammered. “Everything.”
THE NEXT CHAPTER BEGINS.
“And what about me?” Guybana dribbled. “What do I do now?”
NOTHING, the voice whispered in its warble. THERE IS NOTHING LEFT FOR YOU, CASIQ. YOUR PART IS FINISHED.
“You promised me power of my own to wield, and this city, to shape it…”
THAT, YOU HAD, CASIQ. AND MUCH MORE. NOW, YOU’LL LET IT FALL AWAY.
“No! I don’t have to listen to you. She was right, that demon. That girl. I don’t have to listen to your voice,” Guybana said, summoning what courage remained to him. “I can listen to my own voice. And make my own decisions. I can lead the Althelib to the next new dawn, and-”
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The candle’s flame was pinched dead. Guybana’s words stuck in his mouth, and the darkness of the room bloomed anew. His bedroom chamber became faintly lit with a cool, ambient light, as if each material surface offered its own lumination from within. The room seemed a place of ghosts, the only life in the form of the Casiq’s panting breath, that rose from his downturned mouth as vapor.
In the mirror, behind Guybana, appeared a tall figure; much darker than the room, lit as it was with the faint, ghostly blue. The figure’s darkness was like an empty space, a portal in the shape of a cloaked man. It parted what the Casiq was able to see of his bedroom through the reflection, with its pure dark. Within the empty space of the figure's head were three fragments of crystal, in the place of eyes, all throbbing with an icy, pale blue pulse.
The Casiq gazed up and into the mirror in horror, and saw, for the first time, the source of the voice that had spoken to him.
The head of this dark being tilted to one side, and Guybana noticed an object, shaped like a cross, at the very crown of its head. A long, sinewy shadow arm raised up behind him, in the reflection, and removed the cross from its skull. As the dark hand pulled the object out, it narrowed to a point, and took the shape of a dagger.
The shadow-being stepped forward, its strange angular eyes glinting.
I’LL TAKE HOLD OF YOU, FOR TONIGHT, AND GUIDE YOUR PART OF THIS STORY TO ITS CONCLUSION.
“No,” Guybana protested. He leaned backwards as if to step away from the mirror, but only shuffled his feet. His body was frozen in place.
DENYING ME IS MY PLEASURE.
One dark hand of the figure behind the Casiq floated across his face’s reflection, and seized it in an inescapable grip. The Casiq whimpered. The figure’s other hand came forward, hovering over the Casiq’s shoulder, brandishing the dagger it pulled from its skull. It glistened with its own haunting, golden glow. Guybana raised his trembling hand, as if to grab the being’s hand; but outside of the mirror, there was nothing there.
The dark figure slowly slid the golden dagger into the temple of the Casiq in the reflection of the mirror, as his face contorted with mindless anguish.
I FEEL WHAT YOU FEEL. THAT IS ALSO MY DELIGHT.
Guybana gurgled on his own spit, and his scream was caught and died in his throat.
COME TO THE HEART OF MY CREATION. THERE, THE OTHERS AWAIT YOU.
The Casiq’s eyes, ears, nose and mouth began to leak blackened blood.
WELCOME TO THE REAL WORLD.
Guybana’s hands fell lifelessly to his sides.
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On the floor below the Casiq’s quarters, four acolytes stood speaking to each other in hushed tones. Nearby, a guard paced, eyeing the acolytes with annoyance. He looked down the hall away from the staircase to the Casiq, and back to the acolytes who awaited him.
The acolytes stopped whispering, and all of them leaned forward into the curling stairs as they heard someone descend.
The Casiq adjusted his pale robe, and nearly floated down the last steps, passing the acolytes wordlessly as he reached the landing. He wore his black feathered headdress, and his eyes were sharp and clear.
“Casiq,” one of the acolytes said, with a hint of concern.
The Casiq turned gracefully.
“What then? All I needed was a little rest. Come. I need an escort.”
The Casiq came to the guard, who watched the Casiq with caution.
“I apologize for inconveniencing your captain… please do deliver this message to him: we’re going to lock down the undercity. No work orders, but pass rations for those west of the gate. Today will be a day of rest.” The Casiq’s face was relaxed and bright. His grin was clean, and he stood taller than he ever had before. “We all had a great scare.”
“Yes Casiq,” the guardsman said, dipping his head. “The Captain wants to know what’s next for the ones in the hold. And the girl we sent up top.”
“Keep them there for now.” He put his hand on the guard’s shoulder. “Feed the boys in the cells. The girl on the surface will remain safe. When I return, I will take her in my arms myself, and the entire undercity will understand what has come to pass. Today is a clean slate for all.”
“Very good, Casiq,” the guard said, with questions in his eyes. But he marched off.
“Come, young priests. I have one final thing to do before we begin a new day.”
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Guybana led the acolytes through the west undercity, into the neighborhood of the acolytes. Through the streets he greeted his people with a gliding hand, touching as many of the acolytes who reached out to him as he could. The procession was met with welcome, and the Casiq returned their favor with calm words.
“Rest, all of you. Take the day to reflect, and wait for me.”
Many of them turned back into their apartments, relieved.
The Casiq and his escort moved languidly through the undercity, until they reached the innermost halls of the chamber of the ever-laboring, dual pistons. Guybana climbed the narrow stairs, to a control room that was guarded by two guardsmen, who seemed surprised to see him there.
“Casiq! Your mask,” one of them said, and Guybana gently touched the guard’s face.
“Don’t worry about this old man. Braer, is it?”
“Yes… yes, Casiq,” Braer said, meekly. His eyes fluttered for a moment, as if bewildered.
“Open the door for me.”
The other guardsman turned to Braer for a moment, and raised his brow. Braer immediately undid the outer locks, and turned the great wheel that retracted a thick bar that kept the massive, iron door closed. Braer turned to the Casiq, awaiting another order.
“Casiq?” the second guardsman said quietly.
The Casiq only smiled.
“You’ll give me a moment, won’t you? You all should stay right here.”
“Yes, Casiq,” Braer replied dutifully.
The door opened with a yawning groan, and the Casiq slipped into the room, a crypt of ancient technology.
The Casiq began to manipulate some of the controls within. A lever pulled here, two large buttons clicked into place there.
A warbly, automated voice began to speak within the room.
Pistons raised. Decompression will begin in thirty seconds. Press NEXT to confirm.
The second guardsman stepped into the room.
“Casiq, what are you doing?”.
The Casiq continued his work.
Confirmed. Piston decompression begins in thirty seconds. Press CANCEL to abort.
“Casiq!” the guardsman called, and walked further into the room with his baton in his hands. “You can’t do that. Please explain…”
The Casiq turned toward the guardsman, and pointed at him with an old finger. His eyes were alight with a strange blaze.
“You stand there and melt,” the Casiq commanded with a curious smile.
The guardsman didn’t understand his words. For a moment, he huffed, and looked back at one of the acolytes, who wore a befuddled expression. The guardsman returned his gaze to the Casiq, and took half a step forward.
His eyes began to bulge in panic, and from their corners, as well as from his nose, black blood began to leak. He stumbled to the side, toward the control panel, and reached out for the Casiq, before he collapsed. His baton clattered on the floor, and rolled away. The guard began to writhe, moaning as black blood dripped from his mouth.
The others looked into the room in concern. Two acolytes stepped closer to the fallen guard, and kneeled by his body, with their hands on his back.
“What’s happening, Casiq?” One of the acolytes looked up at the Casiq with pleading eyes. “What have you done?”
Emergency coolant circuit down. Check temperatures. Press NEXT to confirm.
“Braer?” the Casiq called as he continued, and Braer immediately stepped into the control room with baton in hand.
A loud alarm began to sound, filling the acolytes with panic.
“Casiq,” one of the acolytes stood. “You’re disturbing the system, the city will burn!” He stepped forward toward the Casiq, and Guybana violently shoved him away.
“Braer, kill him. They’re trying to stop your Casiq from fulfilling his duty,” he said evenly. He found the fallen guard’s baton, and snatched it up from the ground. He then turned the knob at the bottom of the rod, and pointed it at the control boards. A brilliant bolt of electricity leapt forth, and then another.
“CASIQ!” the acolyte leapt at him, but Braer swung his own weapon, and cracked the side of the acolyte's skull in a single stroke. Blood gushed forth from the wound, and the acolyte held his head in his hands as he slumped to his knees.
The other two acolytes peering into the room recoiled with horror in their eyes. Braer leapt past the door and into the hall, where jolts of electricity rang from his own baton.
There were screams, and the Casiq grinned in delight. He turned toward the panel once more, and chuckled to himself as he sent another round of electric pulses into it. Flames were born beneath the panel, until the Casiq was forced to step back from them.
The violence in the hall had concluded, and Braer waited for the Casiq, panting and wild eyed. The bulbs in the control room flickered, and the siren died. A fire began to roar in the ancient room, and the Casiq shuffled his way into the hall.
“Come Braer. I’d like you to make your way to the prisoner’s hold, and open the ascending cage on the surface. I’ll go up as well. I’ve never seen one of the bright-faces feed for myself. Not with these eyes.”