Commander stuck me with beat patrol today again. I had been hoping to get a more exciting assignment. What did the Commander say? “You have to work your way up to the better assignments, Greer.” Turns out life here isn’t too much different than on the other side. Despite assuming their responsibilities after me, I have seen male rookies ascend the ranks faster than me, but I have been stuck on beat patrol since I decided to join the spirit unit of S.E.R.A.P.H. nearly two years ago. What could I do to prove myself to the Commander?

I put these frustrations aside for now and focus on the task at hand. I have to check each of the Wards to make sure they are functioning. I make my way to the first few and they are working just fine. I make my way to the fourth and notice that it is dim and flickering. That one will have to be recharged. I take out the double-sided tiln, a tool that looks like a tuning fork on both ends. Unlike a turning fork, point of the tiln ends in a razor-sharp point. As I walk towards the the dying Ward, I spin my tiln on my finger using the hole I drilled in the center after I completed the academy. Once I’m a few steps away from the Ward, I stop spinning the tiln. I begin running the points on one end of my left forearm and I can almost feel the metal of the tiln wanting to puncture the soft skin on the underside of my forearm. Do I stick with my left arm or switch to my right today?

As soon as I close the distance to the Ward, the hair on the nape of my neck begins to stand on end. Goosebumps begin to appear on my arms. The Wards always cause me to have these involuntary reactions. From afar, the posts of the Wards look to be metal, but the closer you are, they are more of a fleshy, organic structure. Overcoming the anxiety induced by the Ward, I stabilize myself by placing my left hand on the post. I can feel the fleshy structure give way, the slightest bit, as I rest my weight on it. I reach back my right hand, which is holding the tiln. Then, with as much force as I can, I bring the tiln forward and stab the post with one end. Mentally, I review my form and can’t help but be proud on how perfectly I executed the maneuver. This move is one of the first that they teach you in the academy. It seems so simple, but a wrong angle can cause disaster, namely the individual could Wither. Withering. The thought brings me back to something I blocked out some time ago. Rather than think about that, I return my focus to the dying Ward in front of me.

Knowing that the tiln is firmly implanted in the post, I move my left hand closer to the site and wrap my fingers around the post. Then, I place my left forearm on the other end of the tiln. Once I know the tines are perfectly lined up, I lean forward and allow the tiln to puncture my forearm. The points of the tiln dig deeply into the flesh of my forearm and a searing pain begins to creep up my left arm. I know that if I were to look down, I would see the faint traces of a black line slowly winding its way towards my heart. But I haven’t watched this part of the transference since I was in the academy.

This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.

After a few chilling seconds, I know that the most painful part of the transference will begin. My vision becomes cloudy and I begin to remember him. As much as I tried to displace the memory before, the transference won’t let me forget. He is skipping down the sidewalk in front of me and he’s beckoning me to follow because he wants to show me the latest creature at the riverbank. For mere seconds, I’m back with him and I’m nearly overcome with emotion. Then, without warning, the memory is ripped away and I feel a warmth racing down my left arm. I can finally look down during this part of the transference. Where there would have been an inky black line before, a blazing white line has replaced it. That’s what the transference does. It takes. It strips. After only so long can one person do the beat patrols because eventually they have nothing else to transfer to the Wards. The sacrifice that patrols make is one of S.E.R.A.P.H.’s closely-held secrets. It’s also why most patrols don’t stay as such for very long.

Breaking from my reverie, I watch the white energy dart towards the tiln. As the white energy passes through the metal of the tiln, the tiln heats to an almost unbearable temperature. Like the memory, the heat passes quickly. After the burning energy leaves the tiln, it travels to the post. Then, almost mirroring the way it looked in my veins, the energy travels up the post to the Ward at the top. Once the energy hits the Ward, the light flashes; the light is so bright in that instant that it seems like a camera’s flash went off just millimeters from my eyes.

After the burst of light, the Ward quickly settles to a normal level of brightness. I give my eyes a minute to adjust and try to blink away the after images. Once my vision is clear again, I pull my left arm away from the tiln and wrap a makeshift bandage around it. Then, I reach out my right hand to the tiln and begin to pry it away from the post of the post. I give the Ward a second glance to ensure that the transference remained successful. When I’m satisfied, I turn away and begin twirling my tiln in my right hand again.

Walking away, I really hope that the rest of the Wards in my district are functioning. I don’t think that I would be able to handle remembering or losing too much more today. After all, memories were meant to stay in the past, right?