Part 4

At the feeling of the cold and pain, a pair of eyes opened with a loud gasp in a dim room, whose only light source was from a single flickering light bulb hanging from a ceiling by a long cord.

Anatoli Azarov.

Right now, he sat on a small wooden chair in nothing but his undergarments with his arms behind his back.

Feeling that his wrist and ankles were bound together, he attempted to free himself by pulling his wrist apart, but it was no use, as what was keeping his wrist kept it in place.

He quickly shook his head side to side, trying to figure out where he was.

Large

Cold.

Void.

In a mass panic, Anatoli began to shake as he tried to pull his wrist apart.

Grunts echoed out in the large empty room.

The excessive movement by Anatoli caused the right rear leg to snap. With a loud thud, he fell to the floor, with the right side of his body taking most of the impact.

There were several grunts, followed by several heavy breaths.

Silence.

An unnerving silence.

Glancing left.

Glancing right.

It was a room of nothing but white walls, with the only break in its color being a black door several feet in front of him.

He quickly turned his head, looking around the room to the best of his ability.

The room was clean and empty.

Several images flashed in his mind as Anatoli closed his eyes.

Several dark humanoid figures moving through the trees.

All of the men firing their weapons at figures.

The dark figures jumping out of the trees descending upon the men.

Blackness.

The empty void of nothingness of his mind.

His eyes shot open to a door as he could hear the doorknob begin to turn.

The door opened.

The sound of footsteps from black dress shoes filled the room as someone walked.

Slightly turning his head, Anatoli’s eyes slowly widen as he stares at the individual who walked in, leaving the door open to a dim hallway behind him.

“So, you’re awake?”

A middle-aged male.

Short graying hair with a thick

A black suit with a purple button-down shirt and a black tie.

Someone who gave off a regal appearance.

Nikolai Volkov.

The person he came here to eliminate.

“I was hoping you would wake up; everything that has happened so far would fall apart if you were to die here.”

“What….” Anatoli started to speak softly before swallowing the saliva and blood in his mouth. “What do you want with me?”

“I believe that is a question I should be asking you, no?” That was his response before the man turned his head to the open doorway.

There was a sound of soft footsteps that entered that room.

A soft grunt escaped his mouth as he tried to turn his head to the doorway.

Nikolai stepped aside to his left to let in four females into the room.

The dim lighting made it difficult to make out their facial appearance, but Anatoli could see that all four wore a long-sleeve black dress that fell to their ankles with white gloves covering their hands. Over the dress was a white strap apron with ruffles at the bottom that also fell to their ankles. The soft footsteps from the dress shoes echoed out in the room.

Housekeepers.

Anatoli began to narrow his eyes to focus better.

Not a word was said between the four housekeepers as two of them moved to Nikolai's left side.

One carrying a glass tea set on a tray with both hands.

Another housekeeper carried a small black folding table under her right arm, which she promptly unfolded so the tray could be placed down.

The final two housekeepers carried a large black chair with red cushions that was not far off from a throne.

As the chair was placed on the ground, the two housekeepers remained at its side as Nikolai sat down.

It was a few seconds of Nikolai shuffling in the chair, trying to get comfortable before he spoke.

“If you would remove the broken chair.”

Anatoli's eyes followed the housekeeper as she walked to the chair.

Step by step.

Watching.

Slowly the housekeeper figure became more pronounced as it stepped into the light from the hanging bulb.

Slowly, Anatoli’s eyes widen in shock as he caught a glimpse of the housekeeper's face.

No hair, just a headband that rested on their heads.

Gray skin.

A slight reflection of light that bounced off the ‘maid’ face.

No eyes.

Beyond a nose and a soft imprint for lips, there were no other distinctive features.

Something akin to

“Beautiful, are they not?” Nikolai’s voice spoke out to Anatoli, causing him to turn his head to him.

“Dolls, that is the gist of it. The way I was told growing up, originally my family was able to manipulate inanimate objects, nothing too grandiose, but it did make for some amazing nights with my grandmother when she used her magic to manipulate the dolls and to tell us stories.”

Nikolai sat in the chair, leaning back, glancing over to his right as one of the mannequins was pouring tea into a glass cup.

“Eventually there came a time when I was allowed to learn the magic to do so; I did not see any use for such a skill, as it was always tied to the matryoshka dolls my grandmother had in her possession. A simple change in application that brought it to this conclusion, but enough about that. So….” The man started with a grunt, taking the cup from the table. “You can imagine my shock when a group of armed men showed up to my home in the dead of night.” Nikolai said, closing his eyes before taking a long sip from the cup, leaving Anatoli in silence.

Pulling the glass cup away, Nikolai licked his lips, savoring the taste, before lowering the glass to the small table.

“Excellent as always.” The man said, turning his head to the ‘maid,’ who did not reply. “I am not the smartest person, but one could make several inferred guesses about this situation.”

That was all he said before he leaned forward.

“You’re skilled, far too skilled for this just one-off chance for this to be a robbery. Based on the formation earlier, some form of military-styled training without being in the military yourself. Unlike myself, being a magician, you are a spellcaster with a versatile set of spells, but every spell you use is combat-based, not application-based, most likely through that very same training, but magicians and spellcasters are not allowed in the military. So many questions that lead to even more questions.”

Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

Silence.

There was no reply from Anatoli as Nikolai stared at the man.

Nikolai sighed before leaning back into the chair, closing his eyes and sighing.

“I’m kind of disappointed, to be honest. Even if you don’t reply, you were the first person this night I was able to have somewhat of a conversation with; the others were not so kind, screaming and shouting explicit language at me, quite rude if you were to ask me.”

Anatoli turned his head, staring up at Nikolai.

“...Others.” Anatoli questioned.

“You were in a group, no?”

Anatoli felt his heart sink when he heard that statement.

Blank and to the point.

Nikolai snapped his fingers, and the sound echoed out in the room.

From the open doorway, a male mannequin walked in, pushing what appeared to be a large cart that had a white sheet draped over it as it was dragged across the ground, its wheels lightly squeaking with a small echo.

The mannequin had no form of clothing on but was more muscular in appearance, but Anatoli could see that something was splattered across its body.

Something that became much more visible as it stepped more into the one light source in the room.

Something that made the blank, expressionless look on its face more unnerving.

Blood.

It reflected off the light bulb.

The squeaking of the wheels faded out as the cart came to a stop.

“Through various not-so-settle methods that were used on your comrades, we were able to gather small pieces of information, and…”

Anatoli watched as the mannequin reached over with its left hand, grabbing the white sheet.

The mannequin, in one swift movement, pulled the sheet to loud sound that echoed in the large room.

“…in other cases, we just gathered pieces.”

Anatoli's eyes widen in shock.

What was revealed was a large, metal, three-tiled food cart, but on that food cart was anything but.

Blood.

Arms.

Blood.

Legs.

Blood.

Heads.

Anatoli started to hyperventilate as heavy breathing filled the room.

Limbs that were spilling out of the food cart.

There was a loud noise as Anatoli had vomited on the floor to a loud echo.

Nikolai started to speak.

“With this method, we had made some good progress getting information, but there was a line of questioning that had always hit a roadblock, with them opting to stay silent to the best of their abilities, even as they were being carved apart.”

Nikolai turned his head to Anatoli.

“Who and Why?”

There was a hint of passive anger in his voice as he spoke.

With a light grunt, Nikolai placed his hands on the armrest of his chair, pushing himself up to stand.

“These men, for whatever reason, decided to die with their secrets, but I have a feeling that will be different.”

It was a slight turn of his head that brought his eyes to his, staring up at the man.

“...What makes you so sure?” Anatoli said through coughs as he cleared his throat.

“Like me, you also have a lot to live for.” Nikolai said, reaching into his left pants pocket.

Anatoli watched as the man pulled out something in his closed fist before tossing what was in hand onto the ground.

Whatever the object was, it had bounced on the ground several times before stopping just a few inches from his face.

There was a long silence as Anatoli stared at the object.

It was a small item.

Nothing special to anyone else.

His eyes widen as he saw his pocket watch locket.

Silver in color.

Cheap but-

What was inside was priceless to him.

His pocket watch opened due to the repeated impacts on the ground.

Anatoli froze, staring at what was inside—staring back at him.

Two black-and-white pictures.

On the right was the picture of his wife.

On the left was a picture of his infant son.

His family.

“With the past evidence, it is safe to assume that I was your target.” A question that got no reply from Anatoli, who kept staring at his locket.

“My wife and young children are also within this house. Assuming you had taken me out, you would not spare them either?”

Again, silence was the only response from Anatoli, who glanced down to the ground.

Nikolai turned his head back to the cart.

“I had always thought of life as nothing more than a game that some people played better than others. Through various choices, either through skill or luck. The choices you made brought you here before me, with every convening road leading to a point where you are unable to proceed any further, essentially an end.”

The man turned his head back to Anatoli, who was still staring at the locket with a saddened look on his face.

“With everything you had amassed in your life, I am sure not even you thought it would end like this. Cold, alone, lost, nothing more than a passing memory in the back of my mind and even less in these dolls: nothing.”

Nikolai placed his hands in his pockets.

“So how about I give you another choice? You live.”

That was Nikolai's only statement, but it caused Anatoli to quickly raise his head towards the man with a surprised look on his face.

“As I said before, I was able to gather bits of information but nothing tying anything together; that is why I was hoping you could reveal the rest.”

A few seconds of silence filled the room.

“I see that you are hesitant to reveal any information; while that is fine, it will ultimately do nothing for you. You are nothing more than a small cog in a machine that goes far beyond just you, and should you be taken out, it will go on without you. I am not extravagant with my lifestyle, but it is enough that someone would have me and my family killed.

Nikolai took a few steps towards him, with his feet stopping just a few inches from his head.

“You explain everything to me in detail, and I mean everything. In turn, you live; we’ll work out the finer details later, but at this moment it is the only option being given to you. Right now, you have to decide the best option not just for yourself but for your family as well.”

A chance.

“...I...I...”

Anatoli froze.

Partially buried under a pile of limbs was Pavel's decapitated head, wide-eyed, staring out at him.

(What reason you have, let that be the reason you return home alive).

He glanced away from the locket down to the floor, shutting his eyes tightly and swallowing the blood in his mouth.

“I….I will tell you.”

The mannequins stopped in their tracks.

Anatoli pressed his forehead on the cold ground.

“I’ll tell you everything.” Anatoli whimpered out.

Nikolai grinned.

____________________________________________________________________

Pip.

A faint sound to both men.

A single red drop that fell upon the darkened plant on the black ground.

Blood.

A drop of blood dripped from his right palm as he wiped the blood from his nose.

Alistair Micheals.

Anatoli watched the teen intensely, like an animal watching its prey, not moving—just watching and waiting.

It was a quick moment, or as fast as Alistair's body could take him, but-

Anatoli immediately crossed his forearms in front of his face as Alistair dashed forward, striking Anatoli’s forearms with a right punch.

Blocking the punch, Anatoli felt something break in both of his forearms as he was knocked back several feet, bouncing across the ground.

(Not yet.)

Without a break in concentration, Alistair followed behind.

His vision began to wane as he got closer as Anatoli positioned himself on palms and knees, with his arms visibly shaken trying to hold his body up, with blood trickling out of his mouth.

Alistair’s left eye began twitching, causing him to place his palm on his now bleeding eye.

What broke was the utterance of a single word by Anatoli, that came as nothing more than a whisper under his breath.

"Moroz." (Russian transl. Frost)

A knife that is lying flat on the ground.

“Ledyanoy khrebet shipov” (Russian transl. Frozen Ridges of Thorns)

Spikes of ice appeared under Alistair's feet.

It was a light jump back and a quick tilt of his head upwards for him to dodge the ice.

A knife had cut through the air from Alistair's left as Anatoli swung his knife at his head.

(I don’t get it.) That was Alistair’s thought as he ducked under the swing.

It was a wide swing that had left him open, which Alistair did not let go to waste.

Anatoli swung the knife again, but his forearm was caught by Alistair’s left hand.

Anatoli paused.

He felt something.

Anatoli glanced down to his lower stomach.

Two fingers.

Alistair had his fingers pointed at Anatoli's midsection.

A small blue orb formed on the tip of his fingers that pushed into Anatoli’s body.

There was silence before-

BOOOOOOM!!!

Anatoli was blown back into several of the decaying village houses as the orb exploded.

(What he brought out was this space…..)

Aura energy began to surround Alistair's feet.

(It is a spell that changes the terrain, but it is odd...)

(At first glance, this spell does not create any disadvantages for me, nor does it appear to offer any advantages to him, but that is where the issue is...)

Alistair dashed after the old man following him into the rubble of the blackened, decaying houses.

(If it is not for us, then it is for something else... I need to stop him here and now.)

____________________________________________________________________

There was a slight scraping sound as a metal spoon was dragged along a glass bowl.

Alistair.

Right now, sitting on a bench, staring at the empty bowl a few days removed

It has been a few days since the battle with the Dragon-Born Tǒu, in the long brutal conflict between the two races of Dragon-borns and Light-borns.

Empty.

Lost.

In what was supposed to feel like victory to the teen was anything but-

Dropping the spoon into the bowl, the teen sighed.

Depressed

The teen wanted to feel anything besides the physical pain he was feeling right now-

Alistair removed his bandaged left hand from the bowl, staring at his palm, the injuries of that battle.

“You seem down.” Lost in the emptiness of his feelings, a voice spoke out, which startled the teen, causing him to turn his head to glance behind him.

Cassius, who was leaning against a tree with his right shoulder.

His hair was tied in a soft ponytail. He was dressed in a grey long-sleeve shirt, leg armor that covered his legs, and boots.

Unfolding his arms, he began making his way to the bench.

“You're still on edge,” Cassius said as he sat down on the bench. “That is to be expected after that battle, but you’ll get used to it if you want to keep moving forward.”

“That I can understand, it just…..”

"What are you living for? I mean, truly living for now with that existence you have now. What gets you up in the morning, pushes you day after day, and keeps you alive?"

Alistair glanced at his sister, who was picking flowers out of a garden.

"My sister."

That was Alistair's response as he removed his bandaged hand from the bowl and placed it on his chest.

"If what you said about my soul is true, that both mine and my mother's soul merged to form this 'lesser soul' within me, then both want to see that she lives."

"How far would you go to make that possible?"

Alistair turned to Cassius.

"One of the things I have come to understand is that there are no good people within the fighting of this conflict. It's war on both sides, us and them. We will commit atrocities against the other, attack their children, destroy their homes, and destroy their villages just for a chance to survive, only for them to do the same to us in retaliation. There is no end to this, just escalation until…”

Alistair glanced at the man.

“Either they wipe us out or we wipe them out; there is no middle ground.”

“And you're perfectly fine living that way?” Alistair asked.

Cassius placed his palm on the back of his neck.

“I would be lying if I said I didn’t have any second guesses myself, but no matter what my doubts are, it does not take away from the harsh reality we face. There is no other way to live. It’s either us or them. Survival—that is all it comes down to.

At what was said, Alistair glanced down back to the empty bowl, defeated.

This was his life now.

Something even now, that he was trying to get through one day at a time.

At first everything he learned was purely for survival, but now he was fully embroiled in the conflict between the two races with a now

The only way to stay alive.

That thought rang out in his mind.

Fight.

Survive.

Death.

Day in and day out.

Still staring at the bowl, Alistair spoke.

“So, what is next for us?”

“We need to lay down for a while and see what their next move will be.” Cassius said as he leaned back on the bench.

“There is something we had become aware of over the last few days.” He started.

“What do you mean?” Alistair asked as he turned his head to Cassius.

“An enemy perhaps; we’re not too sure at this point. It is regarding a certain individual dressed in white that has been seen roaming around.”