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KALON
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Chapter Fifty-Five: Edak
Galactic Quadrant: Darna Quadrant
Ruling Government: Talum Merchant Federation
Solar System: D-447
Planet: Ora
Location: Daska City, Near Power distribution sector
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Even with a quick pace, it takes me an hour to reach the main power distribution area, and another ten minutes to wedge my way inside using the walls to climb above the ducting to jump past the metal door. A flaw that me and Arrum used to exploit to find warmth as children, also avoiding the roving people that sell Ulima without a tribe. My heart saddens thinking of him. I wonder how he is, I hope he will not mourn me for too long. There is so much happiness waiting for him if Nekam spoke the truth. Soon he will be wed, with children of his own. My jaw flexes, I will never be able to see them, nor see him truly happy. Focus. I need to focus on helping the woman. Everything else can wait.
It is hard to see well in here, the ceilings are tall and the light's red glow barely reaches the metal grates that line the floor. It takes me another fifteen minutes to find the right panel and begin tinkering with it. The Sage taught Arrum and me as children how the city's machines worked. So many small things combined to make great movements. The lights begin to flicker on, briefly before they falter again. My heart sinks a little. It means there is no Etherium, and the mechanical drive for the power is damaged. Providing only enough power for the emergency systems using the geothermal network. Sekat. It is a wonder the heating still works. If it were not from the planet’s belly, I am sure it would be down as well. I could make a thermoelectric generator and attach it to the pipes. No, it will take considerable time and effort. I need to find Etherium for her.
How can I find Etherium in a city this large? It would take me months to search everywhere. Think, and do so quickly. Enough time has already been wasted. My thoughts mull until I remember the gaunt man, and remember that I was able to see the lights of Maka even at great distance when I was going Netheric. The woman might be close enough. If she is not… I will not press her to, I will do it myself. If she becomes a Shulka… I am surely dead.
***
When I return, I am surprised to see that she is sitting up now, meditating. I feel the stirring of Maka in the air around her. I felt the pull even before I approached. Is she trying to cure the Netheric change without Etherium? Is such a thing even possible? Perhaps she found some without me. I was gone for a few hours. Guilt rises as I feel useless in her presence again.
“You found Etherium?” I ask her.
“No, I do not think I will need any after all.” She says, she does not break her focus as she meditates.
The air swirls around her body, as though she is creating a slow twisting cyclone of Maka that funnels into her.
“What do you call this?” I ask her finally.
“Meditation?” she asks me, her voice seeming confused.
“No, I know what meditation is,” I say, sitting across from her “I mean what you are doing with the Maka, or as your people say, Ether.”
“In the Republic of Hekate, we call it mana, though many do call it ether in other places.” She says.
“So, you are from the Republic of Hekate?” I ask her, her face scrunches for a second, I do not think she wished to tell me that.
“It’s called mana tracing.” She says, rolling her neck as she stands, avoiding my other question “Your people do not do it?”
I shake my head no, though I cannot say for all Kuwathi. But, I have never seen any do such a thing, it is like she bends nature's laws with her breath alone. Spinning the Maka into designs that have a purpose.
“Well, it is difficult to teach and harder to learn. It took me many years to grasp it.” She says.
“Can you teach it to me?” I ask her. If I could learn such a skill, then pass it on to my… bitterness stings in my chest. I have no people to give it to. No one to pass it on to. No one that will listen to my words, nor my teachings. My hands clench as I pull myself from the despair. If I can learn it, I will be more useful. Then perhaps wherever I end up, they will not discard me. I will carve my worth into existence.
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“You cannot learn it.” She says, there is something in her tone, what is it, pity?
“Because I am Kuwathi?” I ask her, flexing my jaw, preparing myself for her to say because it is beneath her to teach me. I will not let her see that it bothers me though. I have seen her bend and break metal. Making her an enemy because of my pride would be foolish.
“No,” she says, looking down to the ground now “Because you are runeless.”
My throat swallows the pain of her remark. Yet again I am at a disadvantage because of my birth, because I am forsaken by the Gods. Runeless. A polite way of saying useless.
“Runeless cannot gather mana, nor feel its flow.” She says, her tone is delicate “If you had runes then…”
The pity in her voice, it stings deep, spurring me to speak a truth that perhaps should be kept secret.
“But I can gather it, and I can feel it,” I say, removing my glove and dropping it to the ground between us. Closing my eyes, I pull the small amount of Maka from the air, what little is left after she has taken it.
“How…” she says, leaning closer and grabbing my hand in hers, pushing her face closer to my palm “This doesn’t make sense. You are runeless, I am sure of it. When I tried to heal you, your body rejected my mana. I was barely able to balance out the negative energy in you from the Netherium poisoning.”
“I am runeless,” I admit, pulling harder at the Maka, trying to show her that I am not entirely hopeless “But I learned as a boy how to feel it, and how to hold it.”
“Who taught you such a thing?” she asks me.
“The Sage,” I say, again giving more truths without thinking.
She pulls her hand away, pulling at her helmet now, my eyes grow wide as I am stunned by more than just her beauty… the tips of her ears come to a point… just like the Masters of the highest caste. She brushes her blue hair from her eyes as she looks down closer at my palm. My heart thuds in my chest as my thoughts race. The words of the being swathed in light from my dreams play in my mind.
Dun Eka Zarae - Seek them and find Destiny
The woman looks up at me as I pull back my hand, moving away from her. A confused look on her face. A face that I have seen before… in my dreams. She bears the same face as the woman with horns from my dreams. I am sure of it. Even if her hair and eye color do not match, there is no mistaking the resemblance.
“What is wrong?” she asks, stepping forward, causing me to step back faster.
“I know…” I try to say, but a feeling of tightness in my throat stops the words “I have seen…”
My eyes squint, why can I not say that I have seen her?
“What have you seen?” she asks trying to grab my shoulder.
“In my dreams, I saw…” I begin, but time dilates and everything becomes still, yet my eyes still perceive.
From the corner of my vision, I see horns coming into view, white hair, and silver eyes. It is the horned woman that the being swathed in light led me to. The same one that helped me before when the Shulka’s blood tried to take me. She walks slowly around the blue-haired woman, looking her up and down, a sly grin on her face. They are not the same person, they cannot be, yet they look so much alike–almost indistinguishable. Am I going mad? Have I become like Korra and begun to hear voices and see things that are not real? But my dreams were real, the box was real, this woman was real, albeit a little different than the dream. What if… what if they are real though… what if the gods themselves are real? My lifetime of disbelief begins to shake against what I have witnessed. Either I have gone insane… or something more must be real to explain that which I see. Or perhaps it is both.
The horned woman traces her hand along the blue-haired woman’s shoulder, holding up a finger while looking at me, placing it to her lips, as though telling me to be quiet. There is intent in her gaze though, one that says she will not ask nicely next time. Time dilates back as she fades from my perception.
“Are you alright?” the blue-haired woman asks.
She did not see the horned woman. Yet more questions without answers.
“What’s wrong?” she asks me as I move further away from her still.
My heart slams in my chest as I take in her face again, she is the woman from my dreams, the same one that the being swathed in light guided me to. The only difference is her hair and eye color do not match the dream. In the dream, her hair was white like snow and her eyes were the finest shade of ethereal silver I have ever seen. This woman’s hair is blue, and her eyes are a shade of purple, almost like the flowers in the dream world. I have never seen anyone with eyes of this color before. The resemblance of their features is unnerving though. Why do they look so similar? Who is the horned woman?
Studying the blue-haired woman closely, I trace her eyes, and the shape of her face, there is no difference besides the colors and the lack of horns. I am sure of it. I would not forget someone so… beautiful. Focus, she is not to be trifled with. If she perceives me to be a threat, there is little I can do to offer resistance to her wrath. My body would break under her grasp. I live because she allows it.
“Nothing is wrong,” I lie, clumsily it would seem as she backs away, giving a look like she is… offended maybe?
“Is it because I am Alverian?” she asks, placing a hand on the tips of her ears, covering them.
We do not dare speak the name of their race, it is forbidden for Kuwathi to utter it. We are told to call them what they are… Masters. The true name our lips are unworthy to speak, hearing it stings my ears, bringing foul memories to the surface. She hangs her head lower, avoiding my gaze.
“You must think little of me, given your situation.” She says, moving to stand “I will leave if it is what you wish.”
Leave? Why should she leave? Shouldn’t I be the one to leave or grovel in her presence? She is unlike any of the Masters that I have heard. Are they all like her? No, the Sage would not lie… would he? There is no telling what is real anymore. So many things are changing. She grabs her bag, opening it, and placing medigel and other supplies in front of me before bowing.
“Thank you for saving my life.” She says quietly, giving a weak smile and turning to leave.
“Edak,” I say, almost surprising myself. Should I not let her go? Is she not a threat to my survival? Fool, she is the reason you are alive. You need her more than she needs you. Do not dishonor someone that you owe your life.
“I don’t speak your language.” She says, timidly like when I first met her, where did the confidence from before go? How can someone of her abilities lack confidence?
“It means, wait.”
She turns, her face spelling confusion again. My jaw flexes as I stand. My breath still uneven as I remove my mask.
“I am Kalon,” I say, after a few moments of silence between us.
“I am…” she pauses, as though thinking on whether to lie, her mouth opens again “Luna.”