Laura POV

Once upon a time, there was a bucket. This was no ordinary bucket. No, this bucket had a very special job to do. Sunlight glinted off of the polished exterior as a raven haired woman carried it to the bedside, her thick gloves frosting over. She pulled aside the red privacy curtain, aimed, and unleashed her payload.

SPLASH! Water covered the bed in a freezing deluge. The lone occupant, a young woman, let out a squeal as she thrashed about. Her nightdress clung to her body and her limbs were tangled in the sheets.

“Ahh, ” she screamed like a banshee. With a heave, she managed to roll off the soaking bed and collide with the marble tiles underfoot.

“OW!” She squealed. The young woman managed to get her hands under her and lifted herself to arms length. Casting about with bloodshot eyes, she looked for the source of her misfortune. She found nothing. When she got up, she saw her assailant standing against the wall behind the headboard, out of sight from her previous position. She stood out in contrast to the morning rays that reflected off the pastel wall, like a mourner at a weeding. Clad in a black governess dress and boots, she held a mop bucket crusted in a thick layer of mud.

The girl pointed a shaking finger at her. “Lillian! How dare you douse me in such filthy water! Forget that, how dare you dowse me, period!” She accused.

Lillian brought one hand to her heart in feigned affront. “Your highness, a lowly handmaiden such as myself would never dare such a heinous act!” She put down the filthy bucket and picked up a brilliant crystal pitcher covered in glowing runes. “Only the finest water could be used to awaken your magnificent personage,” she displayed the pristine pitcher with a flourish and a smirk.

Laura, the girl, was speechless. Her long golden tresses were now plastered to her skin and her golden skin was covered in goosebumps. She resigned herself to getting played, yet again, and furiously retreated behind a silk privacy screen in the corner.

“As to why I dared. Have you forgotten what day it is?.”

With an arcane gesture, the water on her skin turned to vapor and she grabbed a brush to start untangling the new frizz. “No! What was so important today that you had to wake me up so... dramatically? Could you not have woken me up normally?” She asked.

“Today was too important to allow you, snoring beauty, to sleep in...again. You remember how well that went over during your third cousin, Richard’s, wedding right? As to why I woke you, the ritual is nearly complete and it would behoove you to be there when it is, would it not?” Lillian replied with no small amount of annoyance.

So maybe she slept more than she should but as the princess and heir of the Eternal Empire, she needed it. Everyday was filled with work, work, and more work. It was exhausting! Especially the preparations for the upcoming ritu—THE RITUAL! She thought. She could not believe that she had forgotten about the ritual!

Laura’s plodding daily rituals took on a new dimension. She zipped around the room and tried on this and that, before going back to put on something entirely different. For several minutes, dresses, dress tunics, and other bits and bobs were discarded everywhere before she settled on the one. It was a snow white dress uniform streaked with ruby red trim and inlay.

She carefully donned the uniform so as not to scuff it and pulled her hair into a frumpy bun. She didn’t want anyone to treat her like a child, not now, any small advantage would help her. Today was the day.

“Let's be off, shall we?” She called to her handmaiden before stepping out of her bedchamber. Lillian fell in behind her. They strode through bright marble corridors, filled to the brim with the wonders and curios of the Empire. Her favorite, an intricately carved flute made from the bone of a Flood Dragon, lay just out of reach behind enchanted glass. Her father had denied her the instrument when her mother had presented it in celebration of her reaching majority. Putting it there was a classic example of the Eternal Emperor's cruelty.

The corridor ended in a large courtyard. A crescent pond hugged one half of a massive stone pine, the national tree. It’s large canopy covered the ground beneath like an arboreal roof. Between the corded roots was a trap door. Ragged moss framed where the door had lain closed for time immemorial. Her father had built the palace around this spot due to the importance of what lay below.

Laura stepped down through the opening and peered down the stone staircase. Torches were placed into brass sconces that were now an oxide green after nearly a century. A stone door blocked her view of the room beyond. She descended the flight of stairs and knocked on the great door. There was no way she would embarrass herself by attempting to open it herself, that was what she had people for, thank you very much.

The door creaked eerily as it opened a few seconds later. A boy, no older than ten, gawked at her from the opening. He was swaddled in dirty smock from the artifice's faction. He had tied the adult-sized garment strategically to stay on his lanky frame without falling off, which gave him the appearance of a canvas hedgehog. The boy was shoved out of sight roughly before a man in a crimson uniform stepped in to take his place. It was one of the door guards assigned to guard entry to the summoning hall.

“I apologize, your highness, for the boy's behavior. I will speak to his master and see to his discipline myself.” The guard said while giving a bow and salute.

Laura waved her hand in negation. “That will not be necessary, the boy was merely curious and attentive. I am more interested in why you were not at your post, guardsman. I was forced to knock just to get inside.”

The guard’s cheeks flushed. “This one has failed you highness. As to your question, I was assisting lord Cassius, your highness.”

“Of course you were.” She mumbled under her breath. Speaking up she replied. “If Lord Cassius requests for you or your fellows to abandon their posts again, please inform him that he must receive permission from your centurion. Am I clear?”

“Yes, your highness.” He replied quickly. His face was completely crimson now. It didn’t suit him. They switched positions and he eagerly slammed the door to the chamber behind him.

The sound echoed through the massive, circular chamber like the beat of a war drum. Dozens of heads turned to peer at the source of the commotion. Their eyes all trained on Laura and all activity came to a halt.

Laura squirmed internally from the attention but did not allow her discomfort to show. “Carry on!” She shouted and dismissed all with another imperious wave.

Activity resumed as four individuals appeared from the crowd and approached her. Each was the leader of the factions participating in today’s summoning ritual. The first to reach her was the mastermind that got this ball rolling. Gaius the imperial scribe was a withered old man with a steel rod jammed up his back instead of a spine. He had found an ancient manuscript left behind from the days of the Great Conclave. It instructed the reader on how to summon the Adjudicator, the being responsible for bringing balance back to the world if another great war ever broke out.

Gaius had brought the script to her father and they hatched a plan to get out from under the thumb of the Sentinel. The great being that ordered the vying powers of the world to pack their bags and go home a millennium ago, then built a great tower on the spot to mock them. If they could summon and convert the Sentinel’s champion,then they could theoretically go on a war of conquest without anyone to tell them no.

The next person that followed was Gideon, Head of the Artificers union. He was built like a house, short, wide, and solid. Laura hated him. If he wasn’t responsible for the new Spatial Looms that made this entire project possible, she would have kicked the perverted creep to the curb long ago. Last time they spoke, he didn’t look above her neckline even once. Disgusting!

The last two approached her together. Cassius Aurelius, her fiance, strode confidently over. Shadowing him was one of the local Cardinals from the central basilica, she couldn’t remember his name. “Hello, beautiful.” He greeted her with a wide smile that didn’t reach his golden eyes. “You came at the perfect time. We are just about ready to begin.”

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This statement garnered him dirty looks from the others as he hadn’t actually done anything but watch as they worked around the clock. He was here as a witness for the nobility and due to his close ties to the church.

Laura clapped her hands together. It was one of her father's favorite methods of getting everyone to pay attention. ‘Control is about momentum, keep going and never let them get their bearings.’ He always said.

When she had everyone's attention she replied in her most imperious tone. “Are there any last minute preparations left to complete?”

“No, your highness. Our agents are merely performing a diagnostic examination. Everything is already prepared.” Gaius responded.

“Excellent! Begin the ritual!”

Jack’s POV

Brrrnng! Brrrnnng! The alarm clock shrieked with its little devil bells for all to hear. In response, a lumpy shape on the bed shifted and moaned its displeasure. The alarm clock paid it no heed as it continued to ply its stock and trade. The lump chirped in triumph as it found the object of its vengeance. With a mighty heave, a small, metal rectangle swiftly arched across the room and impacted with a Crack!

“Aaargh,” the lump growled. Blankets and sheets shifted to reveal a young man. This youth had brown hair and coal-black eyes. His face was rugged, with strong lines on his brow. Calluses covered his hands like a carapace. The young man gazed down upon his handiwork. The alarm was completely fine. A pity, he thought. A quick glance told him the rectangle which used to be his cellphone was not.

Groggily, he rubbed his eyes in an attempt to wash away the memory of the dream. It returned every night to torment him and steal what little peace he was able to gather.

It was always the same. Jack Hearth, the young man floated in a dark void. A soft whisper tickled his ear, too soft to understand. Then the whisper would come to his other ear, louder but still unintelligible. When the third whisper came, he could almost hear the words. The whisper of a child too scared to speak up. He knew the tone well, he had called out like that once, long ago.

It’s okay. He called out to the void. This is a safe place.

A small voice finally made itself clear. Help us! Save us! Share your warmth!

That was when memory would return to him. He had been here before. I can’t save you. I’m sorry!

More voices joined the first and they chanted over and over. HELP US! SAVE US! LIGHT THE DARKNESS!

That was where the dream ended every time and upon each waking, Jack had to remind himself that it wasn’t real. That he wasn’t abandoning children in need of his protection but it was beginning to wear him down.

He creakily rose from bed and got ready to face the new day. He slipped on a dark tee-shirt and canvas pants. His wallet and keys were gathered up and placed in his pocket. The last thing he gathered was a battered flashlight on his nightstand. It’s once blue coating had worn away from years of careful handling. This was Jack’s most valuable possession, a gift from his mother. One day he came to her crying about the scary monsters that moved in the dark. She placed him into her lap and showed him the flashlight. “Use this to scare away the monsters that frighten you.”

He was so naive back then. The monster was in his home the entire time and he hadn’t noticed. One day his mother disappeared and there was no one to tell the monster no. He kept the flashlight anyways.

Bang! Bang! “I hear you in there punk! You better have your rent by the end of the week or you better start packing!” Another bang shook the room and he heard the noise of creaky floorboards that told him Ralph, the superintendent, had taken his leave.

Jack sighed. Yet another thing to worry about. He shook his head vigorously in an attempt to knock the negative thoughts loose, then went through his schedule for the day. Work, more work and finally he had a lecture on physics in the evening. He had gathered enough scholarships to be able to afford going to the local community college but it was a close thing. One slip and his last opportunity for improvement could be washed away.

A bit later, a figure rushed out the front door of an old intercity apartment building. The place had an old stone facade that had seen better days. Splashes of white and Robin egg paint tried, and failed, to cover up gang signs and multi-colored graffiti. But, hey, the rent was cheap.

Jack watched his footing as he crossed the road. Between the overgrown potholes and rusty hubcaps, the road was only barely passable. No one in their right minds actually drove on this side of the tracks. The world had gone to hell a few years ago when global warming and natural disasters became more than just an inconvenience. Like in every major city, this side of town had been left to fend for itself by the city council. All of their finite resources were devoted to those that could afford it.

On the other side, Jack found a well-trodden path and started to jog. He had taken too long to get ready and was making up for lost time. This happened a lot.

A few minutes later Jack reached an old tunnel. It was decommissioned many years ago, most simply knew it as the northern docks tunnel. Everytime Jack came through here a heavy weight seemed to press down on him but it was the only way to get to work on foot. He pulled out his flashlight and scanned the entrance for danger. That done, he resumed his trip.

Halfway down the tunnel, he heard a sob. It seemed to come from just ahead of him. Jack froze. His heart raced and he heard it drum loudly in his ears. Slowly, he pointed his light in the direction of the noise. A dirty man clad in rags came into view, he was laying down and holding his arm protectively. Jack approached the downed man and flashed the light on the wound. The forearm was snapped in at least one place. This man needed to get to a hospital.

He leaned down to prod the man. “Hey, wake up.” Nothing happened. He sighed. He couldn’t afford to deal with this. Jack paced back and forth as he tried to figure out a way to get this man help and make it to work. when nothing came to mind, he resigned himself and leaned down to put a hand under the man’s arm. Now came the next problem. Both hands were required to lift the fallen man and Jack couldn’t afford to go without light in here. Scratch that, he needed the light. So he put the flashlight in his mouth, put his charge in a fireman’s hold and booked it to the nearest hospital.

…

After Jack had finished his drop off and signed all the legal paperwork, an hour had passed. He left the hospital lobby and ran like the devil was right on his trail.

Imagine a graveyard for shredded tires built on top of a thousand pounds of rotten fish guts. Oh yeah, throw in some acrid smoke from the local metal foundry. That is what the docks smell like to him. Though by the extra strong smell Jack realized they must have pulled a double last night. This was not good. His boss, Carl, was always cranky when he had to work overnight.

At last, Jack arrived outside of a matte black building. It had once been a nice brick red, but years of shredded rubber and tar had stained it permanently. The windows were so foggy they barely allowed sunlight to pass through, giving the place a morbid ambiance. Oh, how he hated this place. Doing his best to go both fast and unnoticed, Jack made a beeline for the time clock. It was hopeless, the moment he entered all eyes turned in his direction and trailed him in judgement.

“DON’T YOU DARE SCAN THAT BADGE!” A rough voice boomed from across the hall. At this everyone turned towards the voice, then back to him, the target of the voice's rage. A large figure waded ominously through the crowd like a barge cutting through waves. He was a big man with little pig eyes and scarred hands. His nose had been broken many times and he had that menace that can only be attained after cracking many, many bones. “Get out of my factory punk. You don’t have what it takes to work here.”

“Carl, please don’t do this.” Jack pleaded. “I need this job. No one else will hire a minor like me.”

“Too late!” Carl interrupted. “I gave you several chances, you blew them. What’s your excuse this time? A man fell onto the train tracks? Punks pick on a rich broad on the wrong side of town? What pretty fiction are you gonna tell me today?”

A Vein began to bulge on Jack's temples and his hands clenched into fists. “Are you calling me a liar?” He hissed at the giant.

“What if I am punk? What are you goin to do ‘bout it?”

The crowd of onlookers cleared out at this point, leaving a circle of open space as they jeered and started taking bets.

Jack charged

....

There was a pop as an ambulance bounced out of yet another pothole. The back doors opened wide to reveal a small figure wrapped in bandages. Said figure was unceremoniously pushed from the back of the cab before it rushed off into the distance, squeaking ominously.

After Carl had beaten him black and blue someone had called an ambulance. This was not helpful. Carl knew everyone on this side of town. He had marched a broken Jack up to the EMTs before explaining that a broke bum had attacked him in his place of business and this was purely self-defense. No one even questioned it. They just bandaged him up before dumping him at home but not before taking all the money out of his wallet.

That wasn’t all, because the super was at the door waiting. The fatty had flounced over and flung an eviction notice at him. Word travelled fast.

The paper laid on his chest, fluttering in the soft breeze. He worked his bandaged hand towards it when stopped on something far more important. The flashlight lay in pieces on the pavement next to him. Everything went dark.