Cloudy. Little to no wind. Ninety degrees fahrenheit. Sunny over the next few weeks, but storms will arrive later.
The only thing Azer’s brain processed was a clamoring of voices and a series of harsh beeps. He could tell no sense of passing time, and he wasn’t yet conscious enough to feel the rush of pain his body was waiting to give him.
The first thing he consciously noticed was crippling exhaustion, followed by crippling hunger, followed by open floodgates of pain. For a brief moment, processing these things, he regretted being conscious, but it was quickly quashed by an overwhelming appreciation of being alive.
He sat in this feeling for a moment as the memories of what had happened returned in a rush. Some details came back, others didn’t, others left him completely awestruck as to how he had survived. Finally, Azer took in his surroundings.
A morass of tubes and wires surrounded him, pumping blood and fluids. His hospital bed was scratchy and plasticky, and he felt another wave of relief at the fact that he would one day sleep in his own bed again.
A tiny table nearby was dotted with gifts, flowers and “Get Well” cards. He recognized the names of his teachers and friends, Dr. D included, silently noting to himself to read them all when he could.
But, for now, he decided he would sleep once more.
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His first visitors were Saa and Milo, full of worries and woes in one big stream of run-on sentences and exaggerations. Only briefly did they ask what being in The Shades was actually like, but Azer found himself unprepared to share.
The next person to visit was Mr. Grano. After barely being able to fit it through the hospital door, and barely having it allowed past the nurses and doctors even with his best interests in mind, he delivered, still partially steaming, a massive platter of Azer’s favorite food: Grand Soman. It didn’t take much encouragement to get Azer to devour the entire thing, slice by slice. He had also brought a basket of fruit and vegetables, of some Azer liked and some he didn’t, but appreciated his sentiment nonetheless. Oddly, Mr. Grano was wearing protective plastic gloves when he handed the basket over to Azer.
“What's up with the plastic gloves? You don’t have to worry– I’m not sick, Mr. Grano.”
Mr. Grano looked at the gloves for a split second, confused, before dismissively waving a hand.
“Allergy,” Mr. Grano replied simply.
Azer chose not to press further, instead talking happily to Mr. Grano about business at the diner.
“Take your time to recover, and enjoy your food,” Mr. Grano said on his way out.
Azer wasn’t sure he wanted to see his next visitors—two members of Team Virga, Mrs. Korca and Dr. D.
“I’m sure you’re wondering where the others are,” Dr. D started, Mrs. Korca instead opting to sit by his bed worriedly, “or at least one of them.”
In a sudden recollection, Azer remembered Delvin’s imprisonment, adding another layer to his exhausted mix of complex emotions as he sat in the hospital bed.
“Okta is busy with work right now. And Delvin is… well, you know.”
“Is Copycat alive?” Azer asked.
“Yes. He survived. He’s stationed in this hospital, too, and it looks like none of you are going to be released anytime soon. He says he survived by getting dragged underground.”
Azer felt a small rush of relief at this news. But it quickly faded as he recalled Delvin again.
“And they haven’t released Delvin yet?”
Dr. D’s face hardened and Mrs. Korca looked seriously at him. Dr. D continued, his tone laced with frustration.
“Even through the storm, even in orbit, they kept Delvin under tight watch. Despite lacking any real or reasonable proof, he’s still labeled as a ‘suspicious figure’ and they’re continuing to hold him in prison. They- or, Orbo- wants to get some answers out of him. He wants to keep any information about the relics completely secret, God knows why.”
The three were silent once more, until it was broken by the question Azer knew was coming.
“Azer, I don’t want to put you on the spot, but can you please tell us what happened during The Shades? You, Grif, and Copycat are the first people to survive it—ever.”
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Azer finished recalling everything he remembered, bringing the hospital room to a hushed silence broken only by the incessant beeping from the hospital equipment.
“What you described… it sounds like a Val,” Dr. D announced.
Azer wasn’t following. “What?”
“The Shades. That was no weather event. That was someone’s- or something’s- Val. A living thing had to have caused that.”
The news was hardly processed. Was this possible? One person, one thing, with a Val that powerful? To cause and control a storm big enough to encompass an entire planet?
“Thank you, Azer. This, believe it or not, helps our theory.”
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The last person who visited Azer was both the least expected and the least welcome. With hardly any warning, the door was pushed open and through it entered the town mayor.
Orbo Lindwoter strode slowly up to Azer’s bed, a wide smile on his face. Azer was momentarily grateful he had no face to display the sheer distaste he felt.
“Hello there, young man. Your name is Azer?”
“Yes,” Azer answered stiffly.
Up close, Azer could notice the similarities Orbo shared with his brother. Like Mr. Grano, Orbo was portly, with a wide, kindly face. Only Orbo’s was tainted with age, and the kindness in his eyes and wrinkles seemed to have drained, replaced by the tiredness and subtle wickedness that came with political power.
“You’ve survived a really rare thing out there. I congratulate you. The people of Nur are dying to know how you did it! Why don’t you join us in the Perihelion festival in a couple weeks? You’ll get a stage appearance at the centerpiece of the festival; you’ll be the star of the show!”
Azer remained silent.
“Of course, you’ll be doing it alongside your fellow survivor, Grif, whom I’ve already invited. I’d ask to hear about your experiences now, but I’m sure that should be saved for the stage! What do you say?”
For a moment, Azer burned with anger. Azer was already having a hard time processing the insanity that had occurred, and Orbo wanted him to divulge such a terrifying experience as a public speaker? Only hours ago he had been visited by Team Virga, and now the sole reason for one of their missing members was sitting in front of him. He wanted to shout about Delvin, and he wanted to yell about the hidden relics. He wanted to point out what a ridiculous and insensitive thing Orbo was asking. But before Azer gave a spiteful “no,” he looked at the fruit basket Mr. Grano had given him a few days ago and an idea came to him. An idea that seemed perfect. For now, he would play into Orbo’s hands. He would tell the mayor what he wanted to hear.
“Oh, of course! I would love to,” Azer said in an upbeat voice.
“I knew that’d be tempting. If it was me, of course I’d accept! And for that matter I’m starting to think you might be a lot like me. Well, just come by the stage during the festival, all you need to do to share your experience with the world. See you then!”
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Azer strode up the grassy path to the festival, savoring the waning heat of the setting sun and the sensation of truly walking again. He wore a leg cast, now far less restricting than it used to be, minding it as he walked.
As Azer passed by numerous stations selling food, drinks, and small inflatable toys, he felt a pang of sadness watching other kids his age with their parents, buying them things or talking happily. Today, he would get a little closer to what he sought: the relics. The relics have answers.
He made his way over to Grif, who was hunched over a fruit stand. He stood up a moment later and turned to Azer, pocketing something.
“Bought what you asked,” he chimed, joining Azer in step. “Really think we’re ready to pull this off?”
“It’s our only chance. I can’t imagine a way to get what we need otherwise.”
Grif sighed apprehensively, training his eyes on the gigantic stage ahead. It was made of neatly polished wood, but showed signs of wear as old as the town itself. A large, desaturated curtain covered the backstage area, suspended by a wooden pole and dotted with modern stage lights.
“What’s up? Going headfirst into a plan is usually your strong suit,” Azer pointed.
“Eh… it’s just…” Grif stared wide-eyed at the stage again, “public speaking has never been my thing.”
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Backstage it was hard to tell what was happening outside. Azer and Grif sat silent on cheap black chairs, surrounded by other groups, bands, and magicians waiting their turn to present. The two had only recently finished describing their experiences from the stage, divulging as much as they could without seeming totally insane, and now they waited for a fateful figure. The nighttime summer air leaked through gaps in the warehouse-like backstage, along with slivers of light from warmly glowing bulbs. Then, from afar, came Mayor Lindwoter.
“Hello boys,” he piped without giving them a chance to speak, “you two were very brave out there. Come with me.”
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He urged them forward in a fashion not unlike Mr. Grano would, and they obliged. Grif pulled a small, sharp knife out of his pocket, looking at his reflection on it with apprehension, before putting it back.
The mayor led them out of the stage on a short wooden staircase. At its base was an extravagant limousine, polished so thoroughly that every light around it was reflected. Azer and Grif could see their reflections with surprising clarity. A servant opened the door, first letting in the mayor, and then motioning towards Azer and Grif. They turned to each other before following the mayor’s lead and stepping inside.
Setting foot in the exquisite vehicle, Azer felt a rush of both resentment and awe. He resented that the mayor could own such a stunning and expensive luxury, but couldn’t suppress his feeling of awe at the sight.
Inside of the long vehicle were leather seats lining one entire side of the limo, and a bar and radio on the opposite side where delicate wine glasses hung down from neatly lined racks. LED lights covered almost every surface, many at low power and glowing a dim blue. Azer realized more clearly now that this was how the powerful lived. And the foul man who owned it all was now grinning directly at him and Grif.
“Surprised, huh? I know, it’s a lot, but I’m sure—especially after seeing you two today—that you could eventually take my place and earn all this for yourself.”
The boys finished taking it all in while the driver closed the door behind them and the car momentarily began its journey.
“So, I’m sure you boys are wondering, ‘Why is he letting us ride in his super amazing car?’ And to answer that, I want to say that the experience you two have shared makes you truly special. Truly extraordinary. You’ve awed the audience, my friends. You’ve revealed a secret to everyone that generations have been dying to know. And for that, I wanted to treat you to something special. But, as the mayor, I can tell that you both left some things out. Why was that?”
He then waited for their response while pushing a button on the far wall. A table rose out from the space between the seats and the bar, and he placed three wine glasses on the table, pouring water into two and wine into one. “Drinks?”
Azer and Grif took the wine glasses and sipped before Grif answered.
“Well, you see, some of the stuff was… well, hard to talk about.”
“Yeah,” Azer agreed.
“And some of it was… well, frankly, unbelievable.”
“But everything you survived was unbelievable!” Orbo boomed before taking a sip of his wine. “How much different could what you left out be?”
“Very,” Azer answered, honestly this time. “And it will probably take some effort to convince you that it even happened.”
“Of course I’d believe it from the young men who endured it! Please, tell me.”
“But, it won’t be too comfortable for us to talk about it, either,” Grif murmured. Inside of his left pocket, he removed the sharp silver knife, hiding it between two soft cushions. He moved his other hand slowly towards his other pocket, pulling out a citrus fruit and sneaking it between him and his squishy leather seat.
“We’ll have to ask a favor of you when we’re done,” Azer finished.
“Well, I’d be glad to do you boys a favor for getting to hear this! Nobody else in the world knows about it!”
“Alright then. Do you remember how we described hiding in different houses in the neighborhood from the storm?”
“Yes, of course. And in my town, I wasn’t really surprised that the houses survived a little storm!”
“Well, we lied. None of the houses survived the storm,” Azer said, prompting Orbo’s facial expression to change and for him to let out a soft, “oh.”
Azer carefully observed Grif pulling out the knife before cutting the citrus fruit in two while he had Orbo’s attention captured. Azer continued: “The storm continued to intensify way, way more than we thought possible. Probably more than physically possible. A massive tree branch tore the first house where we were hiding in two, nearly killing us. The same thing was happening all over town, and we barely made it to our own house.”
Thankfully, Orbo’s attention was one-track, for he was still gaping at the absent face on Azer, glancing over where his features should be. Grif managed to push the knife all the way through the fruit, quickly hiding the knife in the gap between the leather seats. He then hid the two fruit halves between his thighs, slowly moving a hand towards an outlet on the base of his seat. He nodded at Azer to continue the story.
“Once we reached our house,” Azer went on, “something weird happened to the sky. And, yes, Grif did get struck by lightning. The sky twisted and turned and glowed like we described on the stage, but something even weirder happened to it once we got inside our house. Bits of the storm were spinning and breaking off, eventually forming these… these creatures. It’s impossible to describe them, but it was like their limbs were connected to each other by some invisible force, and they looked almost human.”
Azer put emphasis on his last words as Grif’s electric fingers reached the outlet, which briefly sparked before shorting the circuits inside the outlet. All of the lights in the car went dark. Orbo gave a small yelp, and for the brief moment that the car lights were out, Grif snatched the wine bottle from the table. As Orbo called frantically for his driver to help, Grif squeezed as much of the citrus fruit’s juices as he could into the bottle, before placing it back on the table and giving the outlet another jolt of electricity. The lights suddenly returned.
“Phew,” Orbo huffed, visibly spooked, “that was strange. And right at the scariest part of your story!” he joked. “I’ll have to get my assistants to look at the car’s wiring. That’s never happened before. Sorry, Azer. Please continue.”
Orbo downed the rest of his wine and poured himself another glass. If Azer’s memory served correct, Mr. Grano and Orbo’s species were almost entirely immune to alcohol intoxication. But, the citric acid in fresh citrus, on the other hand, would be potent to them. Orbo took a sip of the citrus-spiked wine, briefly looked at it with confusion, and then shrugged and placed it back on the table. Azer continued his story, now thoroughly relieved. His plan was working.
“These storm creatures must be what gives The Shades its name. It’s not the name of the storm; it’s the name of the creatures birthed by the storm. These Shades were wandering the ruins of the town, looking for… something. I still don’t really know what. They attacked anything that moved, be it a wire or person or anything. Eventually, they came near us.”
Now under the citrus’ intoxicating influence, Orbo seemed less on-edge. What usually would have prompted a comically big flinch from him just made him open his eyes a little wider.
“The Shades made their way to us, and the spinning of the air in their bodies felt like it was tearing everything apart, including us. It was the hardest thing, to keep still. The terror… It was unbelievable.”
“Stranger yet,” Grif jumped in, prompting Orbo’s relaxed face to turn to his, “is once The Shades were gone, the wind started blowing everything backwards. Like, in reverse. All the damage that was done by the storm was being undone. It had to have been some kind of… time reversal. I have no idea what it was. And the wind was way, way stronger than before.”
The boys paused, and Orbo sat wide-eyed.
“That’s everything,” Azer finished candidly, Orbo taking another swig of his wine. He looked around thoughtfully for a moment, now swaying tipsy in his seat. Orbo took a breath.
“You know, all of this bizarre stuff you went through… it reminds me of what my brother said.”
“Mr. Grano?” Azer queried.
“No, my other brother,” Orbo said somberly. “We were three brothers. Of course, we’re two now, because my younger brother Tetro—our middle brother—passed away just recently. Well, he was already ‘gone’ long ago, but it still breaks my heart nonetheless.”
Grif urged him on. “Why was he ‘gone?’”
“Thirty-three years ago, I became mayor. The town was a lot smaller back then, and much of it was still just overgrowth—y’know, trees and bushes and nothing. Grano was far too young back then to help us, and we were never that close anyway due to how much older Tetro and I were. But Tetro and I were close, only two years apart. He was happy to help me build up the town. One of the first things I did as mayor was clear out more land for the growing town, and boy did we clear stuff out. We cut down so many trees some of the people of the town thought we were going to run out!”
The effects of the citrus were now becoming plain, and Orbo’s speech was growing more and more slurred.
“Tetro had always loved archaeology and all that junk, so when we came across some different monuments while deforesting—relics, I think Tetro called ‘em—he was very, very intrigued indeed. He’d try and learn everything he could about ‘em, but nobody could figure out which language they’re in.”
Azer’s heart was pumping now. “How many were there?” he asked as casually as possible. “How many relics?”
“We’d found three across town, and Tetro bounced between them by the day. He’d still help me out, but his focus was learning the language. He’d tell me his findings all the time. Then, one day, he cracked it. He figured out how to read the ‘ancient language,’ and one day he stopped coming to help me altogether. I found him glued to one of the monuments after we couldn’t find him for lunch or dinner, and his eyes were… bloodshot red. He’d been staring at it for hours.”
Orbo took a deeper swig of his wine and then began to tear up a little.
“And… and I don’t really remember exactly what he told me; he said it all in a rush. He said these relics were ‘ancient documents’ from an ‘ancient civilization’ and he went on and on about a virus, and a ‘planet with life.’’’ He took a pause to hiccup.
“It was so scary to watch my brother, my best friend, become like this. He’d become… crazed, completely crazed, gone—gone insane with whatever he read on those relics. He’d stopped eating, and he wouldn’t sleep. He’d just sit at a relic all day and night. He told me that he’d learned the secrets of the planet, and that he was enlightened now. But I knew better. I knew the relics had driven him mad.”
He hiccuped again, drunk and teary, and then sighed, looking at the boys.
“I decided, before anyone else found them, I’d hide the relics. Destroying them would have killed Tetro. He was so obsessed with them, so I hid them instead. I hid them in plain sight, burying one, passing off another as a shrine to the town, and building a library on top of the third. I didn’t want anyone else finding them… or at least understanding that they were ancient monuments… because I didn’t want anyone else to go insane. What’s on those relics is too horrible to be known. If news came about of poor people in the town… going insane like my brother did… I wouldn’t be able to bear it. I’m doing good for the town, and I don’t want any ancient piece of rock to take that away.”
“One of them is under the library?” Grif asked as if he hadn’t known.
“Yes, and the librarian—oh, bless her—Iris helps me guard it. I code-locked it in a trapdoor under a desk, using Tetro’s birthday in his honor, and then put it in an area nobody would find. But, that Rawins teacher… Delvin… I think he’s working with that forsaken Ortum. If word got out that I was hiding these things from the public, my time being mayor would end. I know, I swear… that cursed Ortum is trying to take my position! He’s learning about the relics and sending his servants after them to undermine me! They all think I’m paranoid, but I just know it!”
He finished with an angry slam of his fist on the table. The glasses and bottles jumped, spilling out. Azer and Grif jumped back, but were too engrossed in what Orbo was saying to stay startled.
“The one mistake I made,” Orbo resumed, red-faced, “was letting one of the relics get destroyed. I’d permitted a company to build a parking lot in the place of the shrine relic, and destroy it…” he hiccuped, more tears dripping down his bright pink cheeks, “I thought that, after 33 years, Tetro’d let go of the relics. I even asked the construction company to chase him out—I couldn’t bear to do it myself. But he still loomed around them, haunting them, and destroying the shrine relic killed him. He was so shocked, he died of a heart attack.”
“The man who died at the shrine…” Grif uttered, thinking of the image of the skinny ghoul they’d encountered, “he was your brother? Tetro?”
“Yes. So, I swore never to destroy another relic again. But I have to… I just have to keep it out of the public eye.”
“But,” Azer started, “why are you imprisoning Delvin? Even if he was trying to learn about the relics, surely it's not worth imprisoning him for?”
“There’s no other way. I don’t plan on giving up my position to Ortum, not now or ever. If I have to keep one of his team members imprisoned, then so be it!”
He slammed his fist angrily on the table again, causing one of the glasses to tip and spill water onto the floor. He scrambled to save it, but ended up fumbling and knocking the glass onto the floor as well. He settled for snatching a hand towel from a nearby rack and mopping it onto the ground before using it to wipe his own face. He took another sip of wine.
“I don’t think they want to overthrow you,” Azer huffed, “Dr. D, Delvin– they’re trying to make some important discoveries. That’s all we actually want.”
Orbo wobbled around in his drunken state for a moment, and then snapped into stillness. His eyes made contact with Grif’s, then the spot where Azer’s face should be, and then he let out a soft gasp.
“We…?”
Azer immediately cursed himself for his mistake.
“Did… did you say we…? Are… ARE YOU WITH THEM?!” Orbo roared.
Azer and Grif glanced between each other, perfectly understanding what they had to do next.
“Run!” they both exclaimed.
As the two scrambled to open the doors of the limo, Orbo was in a drunken rage, flailing around and shouting: “YOU WON’T HAVE MY POSITION! YOU WON’T TAKE MY TITLE! NO PRINCIPAL WILL BE NUR’S MAYOR!”
They threw open the doors and, the car still moving, leapt out. As they rolled and skidded on the grass beside the road, they could still faintly hear the mayor yelling wildly from the receding car. The two panted loudly, watching the headlights shrink, until the limo passed a turn in the road and was out of sight.