Arm heavy.
Light headed.
Memory fuzzy.
Kiyo tossed and turned out on the matted floor, his mind trapped within a perpetual cycle of the fight he endured. Unable to phase it out, Kiyo’s eyebrows furrowed inward, arms clutched tight to his chest. Sweat accumulated along his hairline, an excess release of emotions his body refused to contain anymore. He couldn’t stand the sight of it.
The teratoma’s gruesome face burned into Kiyo’s eyes. Inches from his face, the teratoma seethed in anger, and its grotesque flesh oozed tainted blood onto the worn gravel. Kiyo’s skin was tattered and aching all over. Barely able to muster the strength to stare the monster down.
Repeatedly, he relived the visceral punch against the beast within his morbid consciousness. His scale of time was absent in the dreaded moment, one he couldn’t comprehend what happened. It was all a blur. Kiyo was sprawled on the ground for one moment and then lost control over his body. Mind warped by a violent inner force, it took the reins as it steamed out of his every pore, a heated state of deliriousness.
The second his fist makes contact with the beast the memory blurs and slips away into a rippled puddle. Visual static and a blaring ring were all Kiyo experienced. Nothing more than torn fragments of a distant dream. But through the muddled vision, something stands out and pierces through the veil. One glance down was all Kiyo needed to see the truth, to see the ever-blessed green radiance emanating through his arm.
Is this real?
Kiyo shuddered in a restless sleep, legs tucked into his chest as the nightmare steamrolled through his mind. He watched himself punch the beast, knuckles pressing in deep enough to shove the monster back away from himself. But it wasn’t enough.
Swatted away like a pesky fly, all went dark as the monster lunged back at Daisuke.
Kiyo, helpless to do anything.
He was weak.
“Daisuke!”
Kiyo’s eyelids flung open to unveil a soft touch of light. A whitish-blue glow painted across the walls greeted his awakening. It was a dull but attractive essence, one bright enough for Kiyo to make out where he was.
Propped on his elbows, Kiyo sat upright. He gazed down at the new clothes that clung over his burnt skin. A white silky robe was wrapped around his waist that trailed down to his knees, a short skirt-like cover. But what about his hand?
Kiyo lifted his right arm from beneath the thin sheet over him and recoiled at the sight. All the black scabbed crust was shaved down to a bare flimsy slit of flesh, an open healing wound. Wrapped in a white silky coar fur bandage, the swollen mass was numb to the touch. His cells were reorganizing from the intense pressure that passed through them. The radioactive heat was intense enough to disorientate his body, but the anguish wasn’t even the first concern on Kiyo’s mind.
Am I home?
Confusion flooded in as Kiyo looked around, but he only got lost in the dimly lit space. Gaze sucked away into the intricate tan hides hung over the walls. The blood-soaked boards lining the sanctum were hidden behind massive flaps of flattened and dried-out teratoma skin.
Decorated with detailed markings, each wall displayed different references to Paladinian history across the teratoma tapestries. Kiyo looked over to the right side wall and gawked at the ten celestial levels inscribed in all their beauty. From the lowest ground zero hypergiants to the magnificent fiery white dwarfs, the ten ranks of Sun Kissed Warriors were scribbled out before him. All of it encaptured in an orbital system of stars.
Woah. Kiyo muttered to himself, his mind encapsulated in wonder by the paintings, their intricate depictions of his people fascinating to him.
Kiyo rose to his feet and crept over to the solar star system. Stretching out his hand, Kiyo ran his finger across the inscribed galaxy. At its center ring sat the highest rank of all, the white dwarf, given only to the High Priest or those deemed as rulers over their sanction of the clan. Kiyo’s scaled out to the outermost ring which held the hypergiants, the meat shields of the Sunretsu clan. Marked children dwelled in this level, beginners to the system that trained to establish their place in society. Forced to earn their distinction and thereby ascension.
“Magnificent. Isn’t it?” A voice croaked from behind Kiyo.
“Yeah,” Kiyo muttered, face stretched out wide from sheer wonder.
Kiyo stared at the tapestry for a moment longer before he acknowledged the presence behind him. The fact someone spoke to him came in delayed as he snapped out of his awestricken trance. A little flustered, Kiyo spun around to face the unknown voice. Through the gloomy light, he squinted at the figure. It was an old man hunkered down near the back wall.
But he wasn’t alone.
Spotted in his peripherals, Kiyo noticed four other people standing in the room with them. Each of them was draped in red robes that concealed their faces, their hands the only thing visible as they firmly grasped onto the spears held in front of them. Feet planted in their separate corners, all their attention was directed toward the decrepit man sitting at the back wall. Their overwatching eyes of protection remained vigilant, each a bishop like those at the entrance to the sanctum.
Kiyo took a second look at the slumped center of attention. Swathed in two gold-lined robes of black and white, a red waistband held them together. Thin-laced silver chains admonished his attire that gleamed out against the darkness. Above all his clothing, the elder’s head was obscured by a transparent cross-section mask, but the red threads left a slight blur over his face. Just visible through it all, Kiyo saw the marks inscribed on his forehead.
Flickers of the lantern rock’s shine cast the shadows back, revealing the aged scars and brands carved onto the man's face. It was traditional markings of a higher authority, one blessed by Ameretsu herself. Their total inscription stood for the clan’s Sun-crossed symbol, a clear indicator of the man’s position of power. The solar rings shrunk as they narrowed in on his face, each lined with a Roman numeral and star corresponding to the rank. Just like the tapestry.
Old man. Black white robe.
Little by little the boy grasped onto the severity of where he was. The guards, the ancient tarps, the double-bladed scythe in the elder's lap, and the man’s markings all came together. The pieces found their way together as Kiyo made sense of the situation.
“Wait. Are you-”
The man raised his supple right-hand palm and Kiyo fell silent. The gesture was slow and lacked any aggression but it sent a slight tremble through Kiyo’s fractured body. Somehow, the man's aura emanated a much stronger flare that outshone his appearance. It was like a wolf in sheep's clothing, one wrong move and he could unmask himself to claim Kiyo’s life with a snap of his fingers. Petrified, the sheer essence of his presence left Kiyo stammering as the truth seeped in. The truth of this man, memory revitalized from the stories Daisuke repeated to him.
“Apologies, I didn’t want to wake you. But, welcome my child.”
It was the High Priest, the holy one, the most high, and the glorified overseer of the paladinian people.
“Welcome to my sanctuary.” The High Priest said proudly with a wide grin as he openly gestured at the room.
The—high priest?
Without hesitation, Kiyo dropped his knees onto the ground and slammed his head down onto the floorboards. His hands stuck out to his sides as he bowed in embarrassment. A late sign of respect to the high priest, a customary tradition that all paladinian people held under high regard.
A thousand little alarms rang off all at once, mind lost in the jumble of mistakes he had made right then and there in the presence of the most high. The disrespectful manners he had shown drew back to his lack of situational awareness. He didn’t even realize it was him.
But the priest only chuckled at Kiyo’s guilt. A hearty smile zipped tight as it held back further laughter. He was beyond amused by the boy's odd behavior, but his circumstances were even all the more intriguing.
“No, no. You don’t have to do that, my dear boy. Stand up.” The High Priest said as he motioned Kiyo to his feet with his right hand, fingers rolling back in the air.
Kiyo glanced up and obeyed him. Sliding back onto his knees, he eased himself upright back onto his feet. Dusting off his legs, Kiyo rested his arms at his sides and tried to calm himself down. Attention zoned in on the priest.
“Come closer into the light. Let me get a better look at you.”
Gulp.
Kiyo swallowed the nerves building in the back of his throat, little shakes riveted throughout his whole body. He edged over into the circumference of the glowstones radiance, catching a glimmer of the blue luminosity in his dimmed yellow pupils.
“There, perfect.”
Creak.
Five feet away from the priest Kiyo stopped dead in place. Quaint hurried breaths huffed in and out of his nose, unsure where this was going. There was no way Kiyo could know what the high priest had planned for him. Was he about to be punished? Would he ever see Daisuke?
Daisuke! Where is he?
“What is the name your parents bestowed upon you?”
The high priest pointed his right arm into the center of Kiyo’s chest. A sly grin maintained on his face as the words spilled out one by one. His endless array of wrinkles splashed into each other like waves, flesh a vast ocean of age. Yet his mind was still nimble, the man far more brilliant than Kiyo could tell.
“K-Kiyo.”
“Kiyo.” The High Priest pulled back his hand and gripped at a clump of cloth on his left shoulder. “Kiyo. How did you get those scars on your right hand, if I may ask?”
Kiyo froze up as a glimpse of the tragic moment swept through his mind. His attention lost in the faint memory of the unnatural green glow that enveloped his right arm. A single punch enough to crumple his own body, his flesh left burnt and decayed in the aftermath. But what even happened?
“I-I don’t remember. It was all so fast.” Kiyo muttered skittishly with a twist of his left foot against the floor.
“Right. Of course. Just panicked and swung at the creature for your friend.” The High Priest paused and let out a short congested puff of breath through his nose. “But your hand is still there. And may I say, healing fairly quickly.”
Eyes wide, Kiyo lightly squeezed at the static shock that numbed his right hand. No crunch was heard or sharp sting felt coarse through the gash in his arm. Only a mild response of his recovering nerves cried out, Kiyo’s skin rebuilding itself. Arms crossed over the scythe, the High Priest smirked with an uncanny stillness. Certainty maintained his focus, his collected stare full of unanticipated joy released in the slight expansion of a smile.
“Kiyo. I believe you to be one of the promises for our people. An empowered child.” The High Priest said as he leaned toward the boy.
A promise? Kiyo thought to himself, questioning the sanity of the High Priest.
“Let me show you the unspoken truth. Our prophecy.”
The high priest snapped his fingers and the bishops shed more light into the room. Their left hand wielded a refined stone torch that bathed the room in a lustrous blue glow. Kiyo winced at the sudden shift in light, but his brief shock descended into amazement.
“This entire room captures the past. Every single tapestry is a delicate piece of our culture.” The High Priest said with a wild gesture of his right hand, unable to contain his inner pleasure for the stories inscribed that peeked out through his crusty smile.
Kiyo’s eyes expanded, nearly bulging out of his head as he got lost in the history that surrounded him. Gaze drifting from one tapestry to another, pictures and words written upon them. The language of the world before, one lost in time.
“These are all mere—replications of the true markings left behind by our ancestors.” The High Priest uttered convincingly, his focus glued to Kiyo.
Of all the tapestries in the room, Kiyo’s attention became absorbed by one to the right of the entryway. It was a moderately sized hide decorated with strange rectangular buildings and objects of the world before. Little stick-figured people ran amuck throughout the corroded landscape. Above it all, the sky remained encased in a ravenous fire. The once fully cotton balls that decorated the peaceful heavens were replaced with acidic ash-gray storm clouds. Fierce rain shot down from the sky like bullets, little red streaks that struck the city below.
This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it
“That one tells of a great day that shifted the balance of the world. One in which life reset.” The High Priest heaved himself out of his chair and strolled over to Kiyo’s side. “That day, a new chapter was written.”
A what? Kiyo thought as his curious stare began to recoil into scrunched befuddlement.
“It was the day the sky rained fire.”
“What do I have to do with this?” Kiyo cut in with a clueless expression.
The High Priest chuckled for a moment. Gradually drawing back his gaze from the tapestry to Kiyo, his clouded yellow-green eyes glossed over. As his vision decayed in recent years of age, moments like these conjured all his strength to see clearly. Even then, through the immense toxic air, Kiyo’s face was nothing more than a frosted blur.
Regardless, he stared into the boy's eyes.
“My boy.” The High Priest rested his hand on Kiyo’s shoulder and sucked in a light breath. “You are one of the special ones. One of the few with the potential to empower and lead our nation into a new age.”
Kiyo shook his head in disbelief, the boy too young to begin to understand what exactly the high priest meant. The truth and interpretation in his words. The true weight they carried. Hand brushed aside, Kiyo retreated from the notion, there was no way he could see himself in such a position.
“You’re lying.”
“I only speak the truth. The truth of one’s power that extends beyond these feeble lands.”
The High Priest extended his right toward Kiyo’s bandaged hand. Kiyo finched at the sudden movement, but the High Priest’s arm only lingered there steadily in the air. With his scythe, he pointed at another tapestry on the left side of the room. The bishops instinctively aimed their torches toward the wall to bask it in light.
“Look.” The high priest mumbled, voice hoarse and gritty.
Reluctantly, Kiyo circled back around and trailed his gaze along the High Priest’s outstretched arm. At the end of the scythe rested a foreboding portrait of a man standing atop the world. His hair and clothing were similar to the Paladinian traditional style, body draped in scarlet robes. Hands raised to the sky as they glowed a spectacular green. Glimpses of the fight flourished within Kiyo’s mind, that same visceral glow seen in his flesh.
“You will save this clan, Kiyo. You and your friend.” The High Priest’s smile faded, scythe lowered to his side. “I hope.” He murmured in a weak tone.
“Hope?” Kiyo questioned.
Teeth bearing the transgressions of the past pierced through the High Priest’s lips. His molars ground together at the very thought of the word.
“We have been wrong in the past. Prematurely declaring newly marked children as prosperous ones. Saviors among prisoners.” The High Priest said with a loose gesture toward another tapestry.
It was horrible. Vivid depictions of slaughtered children lined the hide from top to bottom. Kiyo didn’t know what to make of it. His mind was caught between loyalty and confusion. Pulled back and forth, he tried to find reason in what the high priest meant, how one could carry the weight of all his people. Kiyo pressed his right palm against his forehead, thoughts too burdensome to bear.
“Don’t fret over it.” In a swift motion, the High Priest bent over and pat Kiyo on the back. “Just know we’ll see how you grow. How you change with time.”
Kiyo nodded hastily, feet antsy as his heels tapped against the floor. As his mind descended back down to reality, a frivolous energy rippled throughout his body. A calling to go find Daisuke, to get back to the way things were before today, to forget all he was just told.
“That is all I have for you today. I will check back in on the next rotation. Until then, may the Sun bless you.” The High Priest tilted forward and offered a slight bow of respect.
Kiyo bowed in response, more cautious this time around to not mess up. Sweat dribbled from his locks onto the ground around him, stress on display for all to see. With a single motion, Kiyo spun around and headed toward the door. Quick on his feet until he reached for the notch in the door, but something caught his eye.
“Can I ask something, if that’s allowed?” Kiyo muttered over his shoulder, his gaze locked onto the scrapes on the floorboards.
“Of course, please ask.” The high priest eagerly responded as he eased back into his seat.
“What’s that one mean?” Kiyo pointed toward another tapestry hung across the room in a darkened corner. One of a few that was left unexplained, but Kiyo couldn’t seem to ignore it. Drawn in by its isolation, a frigid tension shot down his spine. Hairs stood on end he grew unnerved the longer he stared at the inscription of an unknown history.
The High Priest followed Kiyo’s outstretched right arm to the tapestry hung on the left side of the door in the far corner. A descriptive depiction of a single man standing in a massive crater. A mountain worth of bones and bodies surrounded him, the entire scene encapsulated in a pillar of smoke that billowed up into the sky. The tainted cries of the dead. Beyond the desolate horde nothing more than a barren wasteland.
“Oh.” The High Priest blurted out as he gripped the armrests. His nails scraped at the wood, his face torn back in disgust at the acknowledgment of that wretched piece. Rage contained behind his clenched teeth, he huffed out the anguish in a single heated breath.
“Don’t worry about that one. It’s just a relic from the past.” The high priest spat out slickly through the gaps in his teeth.
Kiyo nodded able to understand that much but he couldn’t turn away from it. Something about the figure in the center of the storm resonated with him. An odd feeling he couldn’t pin down. Left to stare at it in pure wonder.
Clap-clap.
With two abrupt smacks of his bare clammy palms, the High Priest yanked Kiyo’s attention away from the tapestry.
“I believe it’s time for you to leave. Your friend should be awake by now.” The High Priest called out as he shook his right wrist loosely in the air.
Daisuke. A glimpse of his ruptured and bleeding body popped into Kiyo’s mind. The last time he saw him.
With a hasty shove, Kiyo dashed out of the room into the hall. He glanced both ways to grasp the slightest idea of where to go, but manners seeped back into his mind. Face masked with a solemn smile, he slid the door back close with care. But he just wanted to run off, head heavy from the flurry of emotions that flooded in.
A mix of worry and excitement crowded out his thoughts. But there was no time to dabble. With a violent headshake, Kiyo refocused back on the goal at hand. Wasting no time, he flicked down both ends of the hall, unsure which way to go at first. But then he saw it.
Well, saw them.
Daisuke, Aiko, and Takeo all stood at the right end of the hall. Aiko from the look of it attempted to keep the other two back, her arms spread out wide to form a human barricade. But being pint-sized, her teeny palms failed to persuade them otherwise. She was gently forced back step by step, all her might nowhere near enough to hold them still. Short of breath, she wavered in her stance as salty glaze permeated her rosy cheeks.
“You—aren’t—-allowed—-up—here!” Aiko wheezed out between grievous breaths.
“We told you. We’re just waiting for—Kiyo!” Daisuke shouted as he waved his hands wildly in the air.
Daisuke shoved Aiko into the wall and rushed over to Kiyo with a burst of newfound energy. His teeth cut through the wind, bandages uplifted with every stride toward his friend. Kiyo flashed a modest smirk that instantly shrunk the closer Daisuke came. Each bumbling step sent a shiver down his spine. It was like watching a speeding truck charge at you head-on, Kiyo a deer in headlights.
“Daisuke, can you just—” A sudden tight squeeze constricted Kiyo’s words. Shoulder blades jammed into his spine, all the air wheezed out of his lungs. Pain his true friend.
Aiko sat on the floor and buried her face in her hands, on the verge of tears for failing the High Priest. For failing as a maiden, unable to do such a simple task. Shame was all she knew as she slumped down onto the floor, palms pressed against her eyes.
“I just heard you were with the High Priest and—I didn’t think you’d come back!” Daisuke whimpered out, head buried into Kiyo’s shoulder.
“Not. . . come back?”
Why wouldn’t I come back? Kiyo pondered as Daisuke continued to squeeze the life out of him mercilessly.
“Because most don’t,” Takeo butt in.
Releasing Kiyo, the two boys glanced back to Takeo who stood above Aiko with a perplexed squint. His intrigue centered on Kiyo, someone who under normal circumstances would’ve been removed for this behavior. Yet here he was. Free and rewarded with a personal discussion with the High Priest.
Aiko wiped away the tears and glanced between Takeo and the two boys. Her disillusioned and pathetic little self collected her wits together as she snuffled back her self-disappointment.
“Kiyo,” Takeo uttered as he waved Kiyo over to him. “Walk with me.”
Takeo eased down the hall, his steps calm and collected. At the top of the stairs, he planted his feet and glanced back toward the boys. With a welcoming wave of his hand, he motioned them to follow behind.
Kiyo and Daisuke exchanged confused glares and sprinted past Aiko to catch up with Takeo. To figure out what he wanted from them. Why he saved them in the first place?
“P-please don’t come again,” Aiko murmured as she watched them walk off from the floor, hands rubbing her teary cheeks raw.
The duo sped off after Takeo, paces slowed to a steady stroll as they crept down the stairs altogether.
“What did you-”
“Tell me. What all happened in that room?” Takeo cut in over Kiyo.
Can I say it? Kiyo debated it for a moment, stopping his pursuit behind Takeo as he paused on a step. Daisuke looked at him with an anxious glare painted across his face, unsure of what all happened to his friend.
Peering back up the stairs, an empty rickety hall lined Kiyo’s gaze, no one in sight. The narrow descent to the first floor was a tight enough space to let it all out. To whisper what he was told to him. To get it off his chest.
So he did.
Kiyo explained it all, at least what he could. The prophecy and expectations the High Priest put over him. All the tapestries, what the High Priest looked like, what he asked him.
A brief hush swept over the group as they passed through the sanctuary’s main room. An attempt to avoid the bishops listening in. Lips sealed and breaths stagnant they crept through the room in a hushed manner. Exiting through the front doors and down the crumbled stone steps, Kiyo continued once they reached the bottom of the stairway.
The acid storm passed over as night settled in. With it, luminous dotted darkness gleamed down on Nippon, all Paladinian’s nestled away in their homes. Above the pitch-black blanket, the moon shone high in the center of the sky. Its luminescence cast over clusters of clouds that whisked by on the wind. Peace maintained in the absence of the day.
Approaching the housing district where Kiyo and Daisuke lived, the story came to an end. Nothing else left to relay Takeo threw up his right hand. Kiyo fell silent at his gesture, mind infatuated with the scarred and weathered skin held up in front of him. A true telling of a life spent in the field.
“For now. Keep this to yourselves.” Takeo said in a firm tone, his face utterly emotionless.
Daisuke and Kiyo both popped a timid glance at each other and nodded in sync. Seeing that they understood, Takeo bobbed his head and gestured ahead.
“Can you both get home from here?”
“Yeah. I can.” Kiyo responded instantly, already backing away from them.
With approval from Takeo, Kiyo took off toward his home. One motivation resonating with him through it all was that his father would be there waiting for him. His short-term joy was sequestered by the reality awaiting him. But he had to get over it. What else could he do?
“See you next sunrise!” Kiyo called out as he ran.
“Oh. Yeah, see you then!” Daisuke called back as he waved Kiyo off.
An awkward silence settled in between the two left behind, the conversation dead and buried. Daisuke was resistant to leave as questions cluttered his mind, curious to prod the mind of someone who would know so much of the outside world. Takeo his link to uncovering it all.
“Uhm, Takeo.” Daisuke tugged Takeo’s right sleeve as a gracious smirk pinched his cheeks. Takeo glanced down at the squeamish child, he snuffed a hefty sigh out of his nose. The fickle hope Daisuke was about to say he was going home died in an instant. Why couldn’t he just say goodbye?
“Well, um. How does one become a Sun-”
“Daisuke!”
Uh oh. Daisuke flinched at the visceral cry of his name, an invasive clamor that echoed throughout his mind. That fierce voice was too familiar to forget. To not fear.
Slowly, Daisuke peeked over his shoulder, a single glimpse taken to see Ayame stomp her way from his house up toward him.
“Where have you been? Your parents have been worried sick, do you know that!” Ayame yelled enraged, face beat red and dripping in sweat.
“You see, what happened-”
Before Daisuke could even get a word out, Ayame picked him up by the ear. Twisting it wildly as Takeo just watched with a muffled chuckle. A little flutter of joy erupted in his chest, glad to be freed from the dead-end conversation.
“Ow-ow-ow!”
“I think that’s it then,” Takeo said as he swiftly backed away from the two.
“Thank you for watching him. I’ll make sure to punish him for whatever—stupid thing he did this time.” Ayame said in an irritated manner as she fiercely yanked back toward the house.
“TAKEO! HELP ME!” Daisuke cried with outstretched hands swiping at the plumes of dust kicked out beneath his feet.
Already turned away, Takeo simply ignored the childish plea, hand raised above his head as he waved himself off. Pace picked
Left on his own, Daisuke tried to wiggle free. Ayame dragged the panicked Daisuke back to the house by the pinch of his ear. He flailed his arms to no avail, Ayame’s pissed-off vigor far beyond Daisuke’s will to free himself.
“Not even a warning. You were gone for a whole descent. A whole descent!” Ayame declared.
“Lo–look. It was an accident, I swear, I do!”
Ayame snickered as a sinister smile crossed her face. Fangs gnashed in the air as she hauled the boy back to their household. Her neon green stare locked onto Daisuke with cruel intent, the only way to make the boy listen. To teach him a lesson.
“Oh. I guess what I’m about to do will be an accident too.”
“NO!”
…
The night refused to pass with ease.
Kiyo and Daisuke were punished and tucked away to bed in their own regard, but neither could sleep a wink. Minds racing from what they found out remained entranced in their mind, heads full of questions they wished to explore further. But they couldn’t, their curiosity held down by the Paladinian’s strict culture.
Punishment wasn’t enough to forget what Kiyo had experienced as they each went to bed. Wide awake through the night, a restless pull at their attention to uncover the truth. What it all meant.
The words hung over Daisuke’s head. A prophecy and unforeseen future he couldn’t handle to think about. Kiyo tied up in something greater than both of them. The next few weeks' meetups would step over the thought as they sat atop the wall. Time spent burying the strange stories crammed into their heads. Each mutually chose to ignore it as they refrained from venturing past the walls. From the town. Chained down under the watchful eye of the High Priest.
Never left alone.
Their childhood was something to relish as it passed them by. Gone far sooner than expected as their training departure drew near day by day. The time they would be forced to prove their use.
The Sun’s judgment soon to fall upon them.