Tamara sat anxiously on the lavish seat of a private jet. She mulled over the conversation she had with Doc just before heading out.

~

Tamara rushed into Doc’s office, breathing heavily. Even with her tiara-shaped visor, her irritation was apparent. Doc spun around on his beaten up leather chair, unfazed by her unrest.

“T? What’s wrong?!”

“Guess who I just saw!” She exclaimed hysterically, her tone somewhere between disbelief and anger.

“You know I’m not going to…”

“Lucia. I felt her atma. She had that tattoo. And there were others. I think she’s reforming that group.” She huffed.

“Oh…” Doc produced a cigarette box from his breast pocket, flicking it open to find that it was still empty. He gave up with a sigh. “Would it be a stretch to believe that she might try to revive Iosef?”

“Exactly what I thought. I need to move his body. No technique can fully resurrect a person from nothing.”

“Good idea. If Lucia’s active again…with that symbol…with or without Iosef, it means they’re back.” He couldn’t dare utter their name; although relatively unknown, the memories associated with the members of that group banded together to form an unspoken taboo.

“I’m going to my family’s compound immediately. I left that stuff you wanted me to pick up on the desk outside.”

“What about those kids you’re using? Are you going to make me babysit?”

“I’m not using them. I’m saving them.”

“That plan that you devised is not saving anybody…it’s reckless and dangerous.”

“Then why are you helping me? You think you’ll convince me to give it up?” Doc chuckled in response

“You do as you please, T, there is no convincing you. But I won’t abandon you. I’m just here to lessen the casualties.”

“Don’t get all sappy with me,” Tamara snorted, her anger dissipating, “They’re with Miguel. He’s gonna prep them for the Orchestra while I sort this out. It’s no coincidence that they’re starting back up at the same time a blight user has finally reappeared. I won’t let them get in the way of my will.”

With that, she glitched out of sight, leaving Doc with his thoughts.

~

She hadn’t visited the Family’s compound since the massacre. It was a ghost town, abandoned by its remaining heirs.

She hated the person she became when her family was a topic she had to actively think or talk about. The kind of rage that shattered mountains would well up in her stomach and spread throughout her body. Were she any younger, she would have slaughtered all three of her attackers on sight. But Tamara believed she had become much calmer. The woman took a deep breath.

“No…there’s no need for that. I’ll solve everything.”

With just a thought, she exhaled her rage through her nostrils. She then stood up and walked over to the cockpit.

“Yo, captain, I’m heading out.” The woman piloting the aircraft nodded. A second later, the lone passenger phased through the floor of the plane and was thrust into the open air. As she was in freefall, she enjoyed the wind wildly whipping her hair about. The rush was pleasant to her. Soothing, even.

Tamara’s descent was into a vast stretch of desert. But as she got closer, what seemed like a mirage shimmered into view. An enormous city, sprawling several thousand square miles, boasted lavish buildings and skyscrapers. Just outside it were smaller cities, the various compounds belonging to the Families. There were acres of an abandoned ancient city just outside the main one. And on the opposite end of that city was the Devil’s Spine and its surrounding Garden.

The woman swerved towards a dimly lit family compound, one just to the left of the ancient wreckage, and not too far from the Spine. She stopped abruptly, just before she hit the ground. Her sudden halt kicked up a storm of sand and dust, further dramatizing the eerie atmosphere of the pseudo-ghost town. Dim lights illuminated the single area of the compound she had landed in — the rows upon rows of graves in an expansive graveyard. With a deep sigh, she walked towards a wooden marker without the white and gold marble every other grave had. She reached a hand out towards the grave, shuffling a small brown sack out of the ground with a THOOMF and sending dirt flying everywhere.

With the bag slightly ajar, she could make out rotted limbs. She remained unaffected by both the smell and the wind.

“It’s all here…then Lucia really is the one reforming that group with Victor, those other two, and the bloom woman Soji mentioned. I better be safe and move his remains before it becomes a problem later.”

Tamara reluctantly picked up the sack. She began walking towards the illuminant city, away from the Spine. Suddenly, the air twisted like a cloth being unrolled. A short woman wearing black medieval armor furled into view behind Tamara. She wore a long, deep purple cape with her armor. Draped over her shoulders, it dragged along the ground with a soft hiss. The helmet was shaped like the head of a queen’s chess piece, with the prominent prongs resembling a crown. The figure looked regal, ominous.

“As rare as teleportation techniques and Instruments are, I sure have been running into them a lot, lately,” Tamara said without turning around.

“You attract the unusual.” The woman replied, her deep voice muffled by her helmet.

“I take it that's why you're here. I was just coming to drop something off at your precious headquarters.” Tamara raised the sack in her hand.

“And why is that?” The woman asked.

“Don't worry about it. They could've sent anyone to come check on my little grave robbing adventure. Why are you here?”

“Come on now, habibti,” the woman approached Tamara, and climbing on her tiptoes, placed a gloved hand on her head, “I’ve always got your back. Your brother and I are always advocating for you with the Board; I came to warn you.”

Tamara softened.

“About?”

“The Board voted to move the Orchestra up from August. It's now three weeks from today.”

“What?”

“They’re hoping the bloom boy won’t have enough time to prepare, and won’t pass. And if that happens…”

“He’ll be a target again…”

“You can’t protect him forever, hayati. I’m unsure of what it is you’re up to, but it doesn’t look good. You disappear for five years, reappear to take the Rose girl under your wing, and five years later, you show up with a blight user and a white-haired maestro.”

“You don’t need to worry about me.” Tamara waved away the woman’s concerns.

“Well it’s not just me that’s worried. People are talking. They’re saying you’re trying to recreate the Orchestra Incident, but with these your new protégés instead of Victor.”

“Don’t project onto me. Victor was your charity case. And what I’m up to is nobody’s business.”

“Tamara.” The woman’s voice hardened. Her armor’s plates shivered, mimicking a rattlesnake’s tail and making known to the young woman that a line had been crossed.

“I’m sorry,” Tamara recognized her folly immediately, “I just…” she paused, searching herself internally for a viable half-truth, “...want to do something useful, and give hope to the hopeless. And that starts with them.”

If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

“And Iosef’s body?” The woman, Vera, gestured to the sack Tamara gripped so tightly.

“Take me to the Crypt and I’ll tell you all about it…” Tamara smiled mischievously. Vera paused for a moment before she extended one arm, holding the iridescent purple cape up like an entrance. Tamara clapped happily before running into and disappearing into it. Vera threw the cape over her shoulder, folding and twisting into a space far away.

~

June 20, 2022 - 5:07pm

Unknown, Unknown, Unknown

All three of Tamara’s ducklings pushed and swayed aggressively against the surprisingly sturdy walls of an industrial-sized laundry hamper. Neither Kuro nor Monika could use anything besides the seemingly ineffective atma reinforcement. Soji, of course, was just as useless, lest he burn and suffocate them all. Finally, after several hours of tumultuous rocking, the cart came to a stop.

“God, I’m so hungry,” Soji groaned.

Monika kicked him, irritated with the boy’s insistence on bringing up their empty stomachs yet again. Suddenly, the tarp acting as a lid for their impromptu prison was finally torn open, blinding the trio. However, eyes still shut, Monika shot up out of the hamper. The girl followed the sound of atma, and kicked at the bulky figure before her, using a miniature explosion to power her attack.

The man blocked the kick with ease, letting the girl’s foot slap against his forearm without flinching. He grabbed her ankle and threw her onto warm, wet dirt. The resulting explosions at each point of contact hardly fazed him.

Kuro and Soji followed suit, attempting to take down their mystery captor. The boys popped out of their holding, one by one, and in that order, a massive fist slammed into their faces. The two were launched onto the ground where Monika was scrambling to get up. Her eyes had finally adjusted to the light, and she could finally make out their attacker’s features.

He was a burly man with light brown skin and rivers of dark brown hair mostly covered by a white cattleman hat. His bearded face contrasted his exposed and relatively hairless torso. A long, thick, cross-shaped scar sprawled the width of his abdomen. The man’s muscled legs were stained with mud, matching his dirtied work boots and uncomfortably tight jean shorts.

“Oh, naw…” Kuro said. The ridiculousness of the man’s attire, however, did not soften the intensity of his stare.

“What are you wearing, man!?” Soji burst out laughing. Monika couldn’t help but crack up as well.

“Who are you, even?”

The man said nothing while the kids continued laughing. Kuro’s grip on his sword tightened, unnerved by the captor’s stoicism. As if he took notice, the scantily clad man extended his beefy hands clasped together. Threads of atma floated off his body.

“Battle Arena: Formation A.”

~

June 21, 2022 - ?:??pm

Unknown, New Eden, Bir Tawil

Vera walked ahead of Tamara, helmet tucked under her arm. As they glided along a poorly lit limestone hallway, the younger woman reluctantly relayed all that she’d learned in the past few days, darkening the Crypt further.

“Half-blooms, Lucia’s active again, Victor’s resurfaced… and a mysterious woman at the scene of these bloom-related incidents, according to your pupils… and they’re all related.”

“Of course. But I want to know why. What would Lucia want with Soji?”

“What would Victor?” Vera added solemnly.

“And who is working for who? There are too many unknowns here.”

“You don’t think they’ve resurrected Daisy, do you? After all, if you think Iosef might be an issue…” Tamara stopped, prompting Vera to do the same and turn back to face her. Her cedar-colored face was weathered, with a jagged Y-shaped scar running along the middle of it. Tufts of graying black hair stuck out from the forest-green chiffon of a neatly wrapped hijab.

“Who’s Daisy?” The young woman looked genuinely perplexed. Vera, in turn, furrowed her eyebrows, confused. After a moment, her look softened.

“Oh, hayati…”

“Never mind…just thinking out loud…anyway, we’re here.”

They stood before a set of massive stone doors, meeting the ceiling ten meters up. Vera placed a hand on the doors. Pale blue glyphs, previously unseen engravings in the light gray stone, flashed briefly before fading away. With an unbearable grating, the doors slowly opened. Vera gagged.

“I always hate the stench,” she coughed. A thin layer of color glitched around her as Tamara removed her from a layer where the odor-exuding particles resided.

“Thank you, hayati.”

The woman ushered the girl in as they walked past several walls of mummified corpses, organized like a library of cadavers. The Institute kept such a room for one specific purpose; to prevent the resurrection of the individuals encased inside. Although rare, techniques that could resurrect the dead in various manners had existed throughout time. However, even in their countless forms, one condition remained true for all such techniques: a body is absolutely required for a full and stable resurrection. Fully destroying the body was no option either, as that allowed for problematic machinations with the soul.

The two women came across an empty stone shelf, and Tamara placed Iosef’s remains on the lowest platform. In spite of her boundless strength, she was nonetheless relieved to be free of its weight. A curtain of humming blue glyphs, similar to the ones at the entrance of the Crypt, draped over the shelf. They buzzed angrily, warding off would-be looters, and loosely assuring Tamara that the dead would not walk again.

“Anyways, I’ll be off!” The young woman motioned to leave before Vera, the only person alive whose authority she respected, could insist otherwise. But the old woman was too quick.

“Why don’t you stay for some tea? Perhaps we can do a little investigating together?” Tamara had known Vera long enough to be cognizant of the fact that the latter truly was a suggestion, while the former invitation was a mandatory summons.

“Isn’t that against what you Elders stand for?”

“What, working with you troublemakers?” The woman chuckled, nudging the girl towards the exit.

“Nah, getting shi— er, stuff done. I'm planning on looking into those previous attacks on M.I.I. facilities you guys are covering up." Tamara briefly recalled telling Soji about incidents similar to the one he survived.

“That there might be someone capable of creating blooms, and now half-blooms, is not information that needs to get out. It doesn’t help that every team we've sent to look into it has wound up missing,” Vera explained.

“Fine,” Tamara grumbled facetiously, “I guess I'll help you guys out.” Vera grinned.

“Yes, yes, come now, hayati, nothing good comes from conversing among the dead.”

~

June 21, 2022 - 5:21pm

Unknown, Unknown, Unknown

Soji laid on warm, wet dirt, breathing heavily as he tried to look at his attacker through his swollen eyes.

Monika fared no better, wobbling on one knee next to him and struggling to stand up. Her face was in a condition worse than his. She tried to bring forth strings of atma, but the threads would dissipate near instantaneously.

“Who is this guy? He doesn't seem to be after me or Soji like I'd initially thought. Ransom for Tamara, maybe?” She thought. It wouldn’t have been a first.

Kuro was the only one still standing, gripping his sheathed sword tightly and huffing heavily.

“You must be Kuro.” The boy let his guard down, surprised at their attacker’s sudden acknowledgement.

“How did you—?” The man dashed at him suddenly, striking his face before he could finish his sentence. He pushed the boy back with the flat of his palm, then rushed him with an arm extended and clotheslining the boy. Kuro spun in the air three times from the force before slamming into the mud.

“Why was your reinforcement down? Tamara told me you had potential. But if you’re letting your guard down that easily, she must be going blind.”

Monika almost charged the man for the blasphemy. The fervor with which she idolized Tamara could have birthed new religions, and the ferocity with which she’d defend the woman’s honor could have put the old ones to shame.

The mystery man stretched, unaware.

“My name is Hana Miguel. And this…” The translucent pink dome of atma that had entrapped the children began disintegrating.

“...is my brother, Money.” A wiry boy with long hair and skin barely lighter than Miguel's was revealed behind the curtain. He paid the kids no attention, and instead had his attention glued to a GameBoy, immersed in Castlevania: Symphony of the Night. His thumbs moved furiously across the console's buttons, before he sighed, exasperated.

“What a drag. I almost beat Galamoth that time.” He stood from his hunched over position, and inspected the now standing trio. Miguel continued.

“The two of us have been entrusted with preparing you for the Orchestra. Understand that we are naught but humble farmers. You are my livestock. Wake when I coax you, and sleep when I demand. You exist to serve your purpose when I tell you to. My words and whims are your tenets; if I say die, you die.”

The kids looked at each other. Monika’s nails dug into her palms. How dare this heretic place himself on such a pedestal? If his only sin had been to raise a hand to, and command Monika Rose, there would’ve been room for forgiveness. But the humble farmer had gone and insulted Tamara. That was contemptible.

“As soon as my atma regenerates, I’ll…I’ll…”

“If either of you have a problem with that arrangement, you may challenge me or Money for the right to be human. Am I understood?”

The threat of another beating even remotely close to the one they had just received stiffened their backs and widened their eyes as Kuro and Soji nodded.

“I’ll see what this training of his is about, then I’ll behead the damn fool!” There was some solace in imagining Miguel’s head kicked clean off, but the girl knew it to be impossible in this state. No matter. She’d wait. Life was mostly about waiting, anyway. Monika clenched her jaw then nodded slowly. She could be patient.

“Very well, swine,” Miguel said, crossing his thick arms, “let’s make sausages.”