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Innocent Prayer
67 - Afterbirth

67 - Afterbirth

Tejieue opened his eyes to a canopy of thin grey branches and diamond leaves under a misty white, sunless sky. He was on a teardrop-shaped tree island surrounded by bottomless silvery water. His reflection revealed the gleaming white spirit form he inhabited in this plane.

This was the first time he had arrived here on his own, but he was not alone. Inside a patch of crystal sawgrass lay another gleaming white body upon a bed of lilies. He passed through the waters—every movement sending ripples that went on for eternity—until he pushed past the sawgrass.

The pure light left out any specific feature but the frame was a gaunt woman’s body and it was still as a corpse. So frail and sickly, she would soon be dead if was not already. Yet, only one person could be here…

He knelt down on one knee, his body submerged underwater, in deference to her.

“Rise, Tejieue,” her wisp voice echoed in his mind, “I want to see the face of my son.”

A boy rose from the water. She raised her hand to pat his head and brushed it down to his cheek.

“You look tired. You should rest.”

“I cannot.”

“The water here is so soothing.”

“I can’t stay here.”

“I suppose you’re right. Your real mother would miss you. She already does. You should go to her.”

“My responsibility is to all humanity.”

“The world has lasted long before you.”

“This world would burn without me. Even now, I can see I’ve only stymied the bleeding.”

Her hand fell from his face. She strained to sit up on her bed and pushed to stand off it.

“Come. I have much I want to see.”

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The lights of a city dazzle newcomers, but those who spend their days in urban living may miss the simple pleasure of seeing the stars. The only way to enjoy both would be to walk upon the clouds, with the sea of glitter underneath and the twilight above.

“This was a long time ago.”

“Your cousins enjoyed themselves. They drank in the beauty, of their magic, and of the world around them.”

You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

“My cousins are dead. All I saw then—all I see now—are the prayers of so many who have no one to answer for them. No one but me.”

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When they were young, Tyler brought Hannah and Aaliyah to the mountains for training. Hannah would sense the flow of electricity that coursed through all living things as Tyler hunted his prey. Once he returned from the hunt, Aaliyah would treat the animal to the best of her ability.

This time they were huddled around a doe that was collapsed in the snow. Despite Aaliyah’s desperate efforts, Hannah could read the doe’s last breaths get thinner and thinner. So many had died under Aaliyah’s care that had no tears left to shed for them.

“You are a harsh teacher.”

“They needed to learn their capabilities and limitations quickly. Without me around, they have slacked in meeting their potential. It has cost their allies dearly. I won’t make the same mistake again.”

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In the present Everglades, the fog could not hide the throes of war. With Hannah occupied, the convoy had to pay for every inch of ground with blood: theirs, and their enemies.

The shock pikes were their best recourse in keeping the immortals out of close quarters, but the cryoguns were difficult to use with limited vision. The boats that carried their supplies were sitting ducks in this situation and attempting to protect them distracted the knights from protecting themselves.

The support from the other mutants had also ceased, leaving the knights alone to face violations from beyond this world. But they had no choice: they needed every drop of ice and every spark of voltage to push forward.

Despite what the knights thought, the immortals were no more comfortable in their position. Many of them were captured in California, making the sheer disparity in manpower all the more lopsided. The traps failed to make up for the difference so far. This was only hobbled together force.

Eventually, more reinforcements would arrive if they had not already arranged to bombard the area should the initial strike fail or should the precise target be identified. But they had no choice: their savior was behind them, and his life guaranteed victory and prosperity.

At the dock, soldiers were pinned down by the gunfire of gangsters and picked off by the gallery of gargoyles. Their only reprieve from the onslaught was the mutants that provided protection through healing, shielding, and even manipulating the flow of time. But even those would succumb to inescapable heat.

No matter the outcome of this battle, the future of warfare had been irreversibly reorganized around magic. What had not changed was the tragedy of brother being called to fall upon brother.

“Was this necessary as well?”

“These are warriors on each side. If they did not fight here, they would be fighting for less worthy causes. Greed. Identity. Self-destruction. Sadism. Often, they fight for nothing at all.”

They came to the corpse of a soldier whose throat was slit. Only when the bubble came up did the others have the chance to drag him to safety, but by then it was too late.

“Is this the fruit of your cause?”

“It is a consequence. It will be my responsibility to make it worthwhile.”

The world around them returned to silvery water and grey trees.

“You have made up your mind. I suppose that conviction makes you who you are,” she reached up to cusp his cheeks with both her hands, “very well then. Thank you for letting me see the world, and so many of my children, one last time.

Do what you must.”