Page Turners - Chapter 12 [Page 34] - Hope in Hell
The thickness of the air was like water. Every breath sloshed around their lungs, and the weight of it dragged them down, making them sluggish. It was as if gravity had increased, as though the atmosphere pushing them down from above was equally matched by a force pulling at them from below. Sandwiched between these two invisible forces, they felt like they were being crushed by the weight of the Quilli’s aura.
Neither Od nor the girl had ever known anything like it. They’d never encountered a Quillia before. The aura coming from him was shocking and difficult to bear. Clinging to Charlize, the girl wrapped her arms around her leg and hid behind her, daring only to peek at the Quillia from the gap between Charlize's legs, too frightened to look for more than a second at a time.
Od instinctively held his bag behind his back when he heard the Quillias first words, “I’m afraid I will have to politely decline your offer, Mr. Quillia, sir.”
“Declining is not an option. You gift, or I take. You should be thankful you have an option at all. Do not take my generosity for granted,” the Quillia replied, his calm tone betrayed by the rapid tapping of his right foot.
“Why would we let someone as weak and pathetic as you dictate to us?” Charlize asked, her words dripping with condescension.
“Excuse me?” answered the Quillia, his tapping foot abruptly stopping.
“Did I stutter?”
Without his hands ever leaving his pockets, the Quillia clenched his fists. Charlize shot up from the floor, now hovering four meters above where she had just stood, her arms stretched out at her sides. Her long coat clung to her like a second skin, creased and crinkled as the invisible Strings binding her tightened. The girl ran to Od and hid between his legs. They both winced as they felt Charlize’s pain as the Strings constricted her, cutting into her coat. Charlize, however, refused to wince or whine. She gritted her teeth and gave the same smile she gave when Od’s hands were wrapped around her throat—the one that said a game of death had begun.
As she hung crucified in the air, she let out a cackle. “You are exactly as I said you were. Your fear is embarrassing. How can a Quillia be scared to face a Bookwyrm? How pathetic do you need to be, to be scared of someone with not even a tenth of your power? Without access, you’re nothing. If you stood in front of me, toe to toe, I would crush you like the bug you are. Clearly, you feel the same; why else would you be keeping your distance?” She let out a yell of pain as the Quillia tightened the Strings, frustrated at her words.
“Where does a Bookwyrm get such bravado?” he asked, a smirk veiling his frustration.
“I’ve killed your kind before. What reason would I have to fear you? You're not even one of the strong Quillia,” Charlize scoffed.
“You talk a lot for a fly caught in a web.”
“Is that how you see yourself? As the spider?” Charlize burst into laughter before spitting in the Quillias direction. “Spiders face their prey! They would never let it dangle out of reach to protect themselves. We both know what would happen if you stood before me. You don’t hide your cowardice well.”
“What the fuck are you doing, Charlize?” Od asked quietly out of the side of his mouth, “You’re going to get us killed.”
“Listen to your fearful friend. Whether you live or die means nothing to me. I take the path of least resistance. You decide what path that is. Now, the bag,” he demanded, his gaze piercing Od.
“As I said, I cannot do that. Terribly sorry, truly. I have need of this bag.”
“We don't deal with dogs,” Charlize snarled.
“Charlize the Bookwyrm. You have a legacy uncommon amongst your peers. It's rare for a Bookwyrm to have such a reputation. No doubt you even own a Creation, though I can’t be sure. Of course, you are well aware they exist outside God’s realm and therefore occupy a frustrating blindspot for Quillia and Author alike. Your feats cannot be doubted, you should be proud of your accomplishments, you really should. But the Author's task will be completed. Neither of us can resist their power. So why struggle? Why cause yourself more suffering for this man? Do you think you can utilize his Creation for your ends? That thought can cease now. Now that you are aware you covet the same thing as the Author, you must know that thing can no longer belong to you.”
“An Author! Not the Author. One of hundreds—they're nothing special,” said Charlize.
“Your blasphemy is starting to grate.”
“And yet the spider is too frightened to silence their prey.”
The Quillia snarled, his stoic demeanor beginning to crack under Charlize's taunts. He turned from her and focused his gaze on Od, slowly beginning to walk toward him. Eyeing Od up and down, he suddenly stopped.
This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
“Who is the girl?” he asked with authority.
“She’s my niece,” Od answered.
“Idiot,” Charlize mumbled as she dangled.
“No, she’s not. In fact, it seems she doesn’t exist at all.”
“I think you must be mistaken, Mr. Quillia, sir, she’s right here.”
“So she is. And yet she doesn't exist. How strange. Do you know the answer, Charlize?”
“Oh, you wouldn't believe who this girl is,” Charlize taunted, followed by laughter.
“Out with it!” The Quillia commanded as he tightened his fist, causing the invisible Strings to cut into her body.
“Fight me!” she screamed.
“For what reason?”
“So I can punch you in your smug fucking face,” she answered, a sinister grin rising on her face.
The Quillia laughed. “You are fascinating, truly. I've never met someone so fearless, so tenacious. Your contempt for my kind is palpable. But of course, I have no reason to grant your wish.”
“I’ll tell you about the girl.”
“Interesting.” The Quillia stroked his chin as he paced back and forth, considering her proposition. When he stopped, the finger stroking his chin pointed up, and then at Charlize. “I suppose torturing it out of you is useless; nothing I can do could be worse than the Burning Black.”
He clicked his fingers, and Charlize dropped to the floor, crashing to her knees. Her long coat was shredded by the Strings, and blood dripped from each slice in the material. Od ran to her, but she held out her hand to stop him.
“Stay back, you coward!” she cursed at Od. “How could you be so scared of this weak mutt? You make me sick!”
Od stumbled back, wounded by her words. The girl gripped his legs, catching him as he stumbled. She pulled on his trouser leg to get his attention, “She doesn’t mean it,” she whispered.
“I can see why you’re alone, Charlize,” the Quillia said as he ground his teeth. “Name your terms.”
Charlize stumbled to her feet, pushing a hand off her knee for support. “You come right here and fight me. Right where I stand. Toe to toe.” Her finger pointed to the ground at her feet.
“Such a shame to see your emotions get the better of you. The others you killed on the triple digits underestimated your Seam work. But at 3.86%, you're nothing. You’ve made a miscalculation today, and making you pay for it is going to be delicious!” The Quillia said, his words dripping with bloodlust, his jagged smile like a demon’s.
He thrust his arms behind him, reaching as high as his shoulders. In his battle stance, he began to weave String from strands of Seam. Charlize matched him, taking her own battle stance and beginning to weave, leering at him as her mouth arched into a confident grin.
The Quillia’s fingers twisted as he wove powerful Strings in a net between his hands. He jumped in place as he leaned forward, letting his feet land on the net behind him. Standing horizontally, he crouched, bending the net, building force, until shooting off.
He flew towards Charlize like a bullet! Hands in front of him, he wildly swiped his fingers. A smile full of razor-sharp teeth grew so large it seemed to stretch beyond his face.
Not even a second would pass before he reached her, and he was looking forward to his inevitable victory. Charlize twitched her fingers behind her back, but she made no String. Od could see from where he stood, and his heart dropped. So she cracked under the pressure. Can't say I blame her. Guess it's up to me, he thought.
Od placed his hand in his bag, rummaging around for something to throw. The Quillia, two arms' lengths from Charlize, glanced at Od as he sensed his presence vanish. As he did, Charlize flung her right hand from the back to the front, palm forward, fingers outstretched.
When the Quillia looked back, he saw a deathly cold visage. She had him.
Before her open palm appeared a square panel with a wooden frame and cotton canvas, roughly half her size. The panel unfolded, two panels down and one up. Four panels stood vertically stacked, each made of different wood grain and canvas, with the top panel tilted forward at an angle.
The stack of panels cast an invisible shadow that matched their height. The area from the tip of that shadow to the edge of the top panel created an invisible zone. The zone rippled with a blazing heat, warping the landscape to anyone who looked at it.
The Quillia witnessed Charlize's Creation unfold before his eyes in an instant. Her timing was perfect, Od’s distraction pristine – there was no escape. Screaming through the air at incredible speed, he hit the edge of her Creation’s shadow.
His fingers were the first to touch the shadow, instantly evaporating like a drop of water on a blazing furnace. Momentum forced the rest of his body through the shadow, erasing the rest of him, down to the very tips of his shoes.
The panels folded back into one and then vanished.
Charlize dropped to a knee as Od and the girl ran over. The girl clung to Charlize and started to cry tears of relief after holding them back for so long. Od placed his hand on Charlize’s shoulder and looked at her with pure disbelief.
“So, that’s it? It’s over? I mean, you erased him, right? Was that your Creation?” Od asked with tentative excitement.
“It was,” she replied, her voice cracking.
“Gonna tell me what it’s called?”
Charlize stood up, wiped the tears from the girl's eyes, and brushed off her jacket.
Preempting her own tears, she took a deep breath. Her heart ached with tremendous pain as every one of her most traumatic memories came rushing back to her all at once. Her eyes, searing with fire, clamped shut as she fought back the tears. She grimaced and her fists clenched in tandem, as she rejected the torturous memories flooding her mind. Even as she stood there dressed in hair-thin cuts and dripping blood, the physical pain she experienced was nothing compared to the hellish images flashing through her mind and wrenching at her heart. It wasn’t clear to the others, but at that moment, she was paying the heavy price of using her Creation.
“It’s called Hope in Hell.”