Remus only reopened his eyes after it occurred to him that he wasn’t dead. It was a strange notion with no clear explanation as to why. He had fallen thousands of feet at gods’ knew what speed, accelerating with every fate-sealing second that rushed by.
And yet he was here. Alone, but breathing. Or perhaps even that was a deception.
Moisture surrounded him; cold, damp moisture. Had he fallen into water? But that didn’t make any sense. Not even a vessel of gushing liquid could spare his body from the impact of that fall. Logic declared that Remus should have been a splattering of gore upon some random patch of grass, so why wasn’t he? His body was in one whole, and similarly, only one inclination struck him, prevailing above the sea of enquiries. The urge to breathe.
He erupted upwards, arms snapping into action as he grasped clumsily onto both sides of whatever it was that surrounded him. His fingers slipped as what felt like mush evaded his clutches. Blinking out a runny substance from his eyes, his chest heaved, his lungs grateful for something to rely on, other than a harsh deniance of oxygen.
Familiar hands assisted Remus in dragging him out of the mud pit, which he may have found disgusting, if he wasn’t already grateful for every additional second of life he was blessed with.
He recognised Violet instantly. She began speaking before he could even open his mouth. “We have to go, Remus.” Violet was breathing in deeply, somehow more alarmed than him. “I managed to snag you out of there mid-fall. I would apologise for the poor location, but I really didn't have much choice.”
“Violet, Nova, he’s-”
She extended a hand before her, eyes scurrying from left to right in obvious paranoia. “Save it for later, we have to go now. The Tempest Sect isn’t going to be very happy with us for leading one of their own to their death, and directing two God-Graced and a Godling up here.”
Remus slung on his bag that Violet handed to him, actually sighing in relief at the weight of its contents. The shard of Infirnite and Styrmir’s finger — tokens of his efforts — were safely in his keeping.
He turned once more to Violet, suiting his most serious of looks. “I think it would be best if I told you now. This could be word shattering, and for once, I truly mean it.”
For a second, something in the girl’s eyes changed, some visceral sprinkle of emotion that she shunned out before it could fully blossom. Her composure returned, and with it, her stubborn resolve. “Once we reach the Shifting, no earlier. Now stop talking, and run!”
There was no arguing with her. Remus took one last glance over the territories of Hybrid, felt an odd pressure build up in his throat, and broke out into a dashing stride.
It was time to find out if the Shifting was just as bizarre as it appeared.
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Violet strolled through the forest of overgrown fungi, not at all surprised at the bizarre environment. She took a seat upon a toadstool of notable size, clutching her head in one hand and sighing.
So it was true. Nova was an Unbounded, and the rest of her family, likely even Verity, had more chance of being monstrosities too than ordinary people. Strangely, Violet didn’t experience the ultra-hit of despair she had been readily expecting. Perhaps her firm beliefs that it was an inevitable outcome, a depressing state of affairs that couldn’t be argued with, had meant her acceptance of the reality had occurred Passings ago. Now she just felt numb, devoid of any superficial emotion.
The notion to contact Veida through Pippin, informing her of the revelation, occurred to Violet. But it was shut-down before the alarming idea could take-off. She couldn’t message Veida after what had happened, falsely pretending that everything was fine — the very prospect made her cringe.
Feeding the sparrow at her side without the slightest thought, she didn’t look up as the familiar gait of a certain someone strolled over.
Remus took a seat on a mushroom beside her. In unison, both of their impromptu seats morphed into the crest of a sand dune, as their environs couldn’t quite decide if they were supposed to be in an addict’s haven, or a desert.
“Strange, isn’t it?” He muttered, staring at the mound of ashen dust accumulating at their dangling feet. “All of those territories — all of their respective sects, moulding the earth to their liking. All of those Marks activated for the same course, and this is the result.”
Violet nodded in agreement, not particularly in the mood to chat. Nevertheless, some tiny iota of her with a slither of interest had to agree with the boy. She almost felt bad for the Shifting in a way, the stretch of land in an eternal fight to meet the commands of thousands of Marks — each of them demanding wildly varying biomes that suited that particular clan’s area of power.
“We’re almost there now.” A smiling Remus sipped at his tea, in a manner so painfully reminiscent of Veida. How could he be so carefree, when the entire world seemed to be crumbling everywhere they turned?
“It’s less terrain to cross than we thought.” he continued, obviously trying to direct her focus onto lighter matters. Regardless of whether it was working or not, Violet had to appreciate that. “The environment being what it is makes it hard to judge distance, but I’m sure we’re only a day’s walk or so from this all being over.”
Violet frowned. “You out of everyone should know the most that there’s still far more to come.”
“Yeah . . .” He muttered lethargically, finishing his drink. “But it's a nice thought.”
Their final destination to fulfil the trials was so close now, and that was definitely thanks to the last Duration's mad chase. After they had sprinted out of Territory Six, they never really stopped. Nine whole days of maintaining a breakneck pace, had led the two of them through a wonderland comprised of fever dreams. Violet could barely recite the things she’d seen. They weren’t based in reason, and thus couldn’t be defined by the restrictive definitions of language. Nevertheless, visages of the Shifting would forever haunt her, if Violet was ever to let her eyes close for a little too long.
“Stare into the void and the void will stare back at you.” She muttered.
Remus choked on the last of his tea. “What?”
“Nothing.”
Remus appeared slightly disturbed, retaining a sidelong glance at her, but muttered no words to disrupt the overdraping silence quickly forming. It lingered as the allocated time for their break reached its end, and the pair returned to advancing forward with reserved enthusiasm. After a minute, Violet did away with the veil.
“What do you think will become of us?”
“Praise Infinity, you're in a philosophical mood today aren’t you?” Remus replied, actually sounding concerned. “Is everything alright? You can talk to me Violet.”
After a moment, she spoke. “Doesn’t the War seem like it will last forever? If we were only born to play as pawns for the gods, what happens when one of them finally wins? What happens when one deity stands on a pile of its kins’ bodies, triumphant, with all of the gods’ Infinity the playthings of one entity? Does humanity have any part in that? Do we cease to matter? A tool can only retain its use for so long.”
Evidently taking his time to properly articulate an answer, Remus said, in a sure voice: “of course we will, in one way or another. The gods will owe a considerable amount to us. We’re the weapon they wield to enact victory, and only a fool would neglect the care of their blade.”
Violet scoffed. “What good is a sword you’ll never have to wield again?”
She had stumped him there. “You raise a good point, but nevertheless, have faith.”
“Faith in what?”
“In humanity. In at least some of the deities being moral. That’s all we need — one god who appreciates the hardships of mankind. And who is more deserving to win above all others? Someone who doesn’t spit in the face of their followers, who sees the struggles of their people as their own battles. That is the god who will win this war. That I am certain.”
Violet said nothing for a good while, and Remus let the time drone along as he immersed himself into a bottomless daydream. His idle reverie was only put to rest when Remus eyed Violet, passing a piece of parchment into Pippin’s talons.
“What are you doing?”
“Messaging Veida.” She said the words as if they were a deadly parasite, forced out of her body. “I might not know what to think of the woman now, but the world needs to know if a sect leader is an Unbounded in disguise. I can’t let Nova continue unsuspected, merely because of a grudge.”
Remus nodded. “True enough.”
A shallow breadth of water, barely a foot deep, expanded as far as the two could see in all directions. There might have been something identifiable in the distance, but amid the wafting fog obscuring everything in sight, they only had their imaginations to speculate on what may lay beyond.
“Not many Unbounded here,” Violet noted, trudging through the rippling murk, “that’s both surprising, and a nice change of pace for once.”
“Indeed. Aside from a few minor ones, we haven’t run into any. Why is that?”
Violet put a finger to her lips, theorising. “Perhaps they were cleared out? We’re not the only travellers through Hybrid. The Undercrossing is the standard means of transport in and out of the city proper, true, but the Shifting is a popular tourist attraction. I don’t get the appeal myself, but there’s no place in the world like it.”
“What combination of strong and insane do you have to be to see this,” he gestured vaguely all around them, “as somewhere worth visiting for fun?”
“Bored, retired Foot-Soldiers with too much time on their hands. Let’s just hope we don’t run into any on our way over.”
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Nothing but the distinct, salty smell of brackish water infiltrated the atmosphere, the fog dispersing slightly just as it was beginning to grow too dark to see into the distance. The two of them agreed to keep travelling for a few hours, until it truly would be unwise to continue on ahead. They kept their talk to minimum, neither of them particularly in the mood for any more gloomy topics to exhaust.
Despite the resting expression on Remus' face, Violet could tell the boy was shoving down his excitement. Every so often, she could hear his shard of Infirnite jangling along with their supplies in that worn-down sack of his. How a sharp corner of the material hadn't already split the flimsy bag open eluded her, but his anticipation at finally delivering it — however well buried — was almost infectious.
Violet on the other hand, knew with solemn certainty that her own leg of the journey was only commencing. Through the central city, all the way to the Ravaged Lands, and from there, Hell’s Floor, was their journey out of Hybrid, and to Akuji.
Akuji. The name felt strange even to the tongue of her internal voice, a thought that hadn’t crossed her mind for a time far longer than it should’ve. What had become of him? Why was Nova, a confirmed Unbounded, entangled with a Warlord who had gone missing decades ago? One question answered after Passings of travel, and still it seemed that a hundred more continued to elude her. I’ll be on my deathbed before I get the bottom of this. She scoffed. Before I finally get peace.
Instead of altering, the Shifting appeared to have intensified their surroundings. It was like hitting the jackpot at a casino, a random decision of the land that occurred for the worst possible area.
Swirling visibly into concentrated drifts, the fog grew to a virtually opaque, smeared appearance. It was as if the clouds had been wrenched out of the skies, dragged down with the sole purpose of being a detriment to the sight of any unlucky travellers passing by. What a misfortune that they met that description.
And then there came the voices.
“Of course mist.” A boyish voice complained. “No, not a mountain forged in gold, just swampy waters, and fog. We’re really being spoiled today.”
“Shut up.” Two other presences, terrifyingly familiar, spat back.
Footsteps crept closer, and both Violet and Remus froze in place, and she even found herself holding her breath. The footsteps continued, but something was wrong. The attentiveness of Violet's ears told her there were four sets of them. Being raised in a house full of . . . full of whatever it was the people of her clan were, you developed the ability to distinguish individual gaits very quickly. And this fourth set of feet was so hauntingly recogniseable, so reminiscent to a familiar tapping that filled her childhood, that she couldn’t help but attribute it to-
No. Gods, please no.
Suddenly, it occurred to Violet that things were far too quiet. The sound of the approaching group had ceased, the footsteps having slowly quietened over the course of her frantic thinking. What was she to do? They must have known they were there, or at least had sensed something lurking ahead.
Remus stood with the poise of chiselled marble, the only facet of him with any motion at all the tiny trickles of sweat leaking down his forehead. His eyes were wide, not budging for fear of even the flapping of his eyes alerting the enemy.
The walking commenced again, and Violet crept over to Remus on her tiptoes. He looked at her like she had a death-wish.
Violet leaned in, whispered a desperate run into his ears, when all hell broke loose.
The Shifting changed yet again. The water poofed out of existence in a bizarre sensation, an environment on the complete opposite end in the moisture department displacing it. Obsidian expanded everywhere she looked. Which wasn’t exactly far, for Violet didn’t dare lift her head; lest she be forced to see what was irrefutably there. She fought down the urge to squirm, the realisation that the fog had vanished — and with it, their one source of protection — reiterated by the fact that every inch of land encompassing them had come into stark detail.
Slowly, she raised her head.
Verity stood there, face as plain as it had ever been. She hadn’t done so much as muttered a word, before her hand moved towards her sheath.
“Stop Running, Violet.” She said simply, the rest of the group too stunned to speak. “It's pointless. You only extend your suffering. For what reason? I do not understand.”
Violet screamed, shards of obsidian tearing out of the ground beneath her, as the Mark upon her forearm blazed with all its might. Verity rushed towards her, clutched Violet by the throat, and then there was nothing.
----------------------------------------
Remus could only watch, aghast, as Violet disappeared in an aura of purple. Too many thoughts, too many to process, befell him, and a knife appeared in his hand. He didn’t remember drawing it.
Elmore, and his two reported cousins, Koa and Ash, stood before him. The two younger boys merely stared at Remus, amazed expressions widening their eyes; stretching the oval shape of their mouths.
Elmore stepped forth, emerald cloak and jet hair swaying in a casual breeze. “Remus, Engorged of the Carpentry Clan. I, Elmore, Emblazed of the Wild Sect, by right of the law and personal request of the God-Graced Juniper, am permitted to take you under custody. Your crimes include robbery, desertion of sect, and evasion of the law as a known fugitive. You may resist, but I would not recommend it.”
He punctuated the words by drawing multiple kunai, five of the throwing knives dangling on the ends of his fingers. Remus didn’t dare move, and stepped firmly onto the ground ahead of him. Light from Elmore’s Mark shone from his back even through his flapping robes, and eating through the igneous rock, grassy earth appeared.
Elmore clicked his fingers without turning, signalling to his cousins. “Be of some use, won’t you? There’s not a leaf or tree in sight, so we must forge our own battlefield.”
“Planning on spilling your entire plan?” Remus asked, taking a step forward. “I appreciate the assistance.”
Three sets of weapons were poised before him. Wincing, Remus suddenly lost any hint of motion.
“There’s no point in concealing what can’t be changed.” His past guard boasted, and Remus only then noticed that Elmore’s unorthodox jewellery had been reduced to four. He lowered his gaze slightly, keeping all three clansmen centralised in his vision, but concentrating on his peripherals. There, jutting out of the ground in a sight that set goosebumps dancing across his skin, was an embedded knife.
Elmore swirled the article on his index finger. Already, spreading out around the group like a festering disease, a carpet of brown and green steadily creeped across the floor.
Remus tried to think, to formulate a plan. This wasn’t the first time he’d gotten himself into a hopeless corner, and he was determined not to make it his last. Nevertheless, no spur-of-the moment schemes, no trickly ploys to drag him out of the fray occurred to him. His nexus of a mind only conjured a rising tide of panic, and any sensible ideas steadily forming were swept up in its crashing waves. Dismantled into the tangles of logic they were at their core, discarded, and never to be ignited again.
Instead, like a dying man with no other lifeline, he latched onto something beyond his wits, onto the code of life etched into every cell of his body. The urge to dash away from any dangerous scenario was an inclination Remus had conditioned himself to shun, after hapless fight after hapless fight. He allowed it to surface, let the riddling fear seep into his bloodstream, his bones, and then into his very marrow. It devoured him from the inside out, quickening his breath, pumping his body full of hormones and accelerating his heartbeat to deafening levels.
Run, his subconscious advised him, each beat of his heart like the chimes of death, run like hell.
His body followed orders, and ignoring his aching muscles — yet to recover from Nova’s beatdown — he abandoned any iota of sensibility left within him. If Elmore could only attack Remus on fertile soil, he wouldn’t dally as the Emblazed summoned him his own private funeral service.
He was pretty sure he could outrun Ash and Koa. He had both age and experience in his favour in that regard, and physical enhancements after Engorged, up until the Splintered Ranks, were only minimal. It was Elmore who was the cause of his distress, the near adult likely of the cut able to keep up with him. Likely even to surpass his speeds.
Nevertheless, catching up to Remus wouldn’t be the clansman’s priority. All that was required of him now was to slip within throwing range, and Remus was as good as dead meat.
Or he could simply wait out the Shifting to disperse a more naturalistic setting, and abuse his Mark to his heart’s content.
“Stop running!” The teenager teetering on adulthood spat. “I don’t intend to kill you, but if you’re going to be tricky about it . . .”
Not catching the rest of Elmore’s words, Remus almost collapsed as a jagged point grazed against his back. It was more bruise-inducing than anything, but the blow was nevertheless painful enough to push through the numbing barrier of Remus’ adrenaline. It took all his focus not to crumple right then and there.
The sprint continued for what felt like days extending to Durations, and from there to a full Passing. Remus would be grey, wrinkly, and beset by rheumy eyes by the time either of them quit, he just knew it.
Elmore’s cousins weren’t even visible now, having collapsed minutes ago. He couldn’t blame the boys — Remus himself was feeling the aftereffects of his expenditure, from the soreness of his toes to dryness of his throat. But he couldn’t see them for the innocuous youths they were; the pair of them were associates of a man doing everything in his power to lock Remus in a cell and throw away the key. If fleeing from only one advancing attacker were to be Remus’ only crumb of relief, he would savour it gratefully.
Elmore’s fifth and last throwing knife made a whistling noise as it cleaved through the air. Not thinking straight, Remus crumbled under pressure — hopping to the side in a jolt without hope, slipping in the process. He turned the fall into a rolling turn at the last second, shielding himself with extended hands and-
He only vaguely registered his screams as a secondary sensation, the keystone of his focus a seething, explosive ire unlike anything he had ever experienced. Nova’s torture had been child’s play compared to this, and the fact Elmore was mere feet away from towering over him mattered little in that moment.
Let him take me away, some quiet sector of him thought, just put an end to this pain.
No chemical in his body could numb the strain of this, and Remus dared to glance at his hand. It was less an appendage and more a ball of overflowing crimson. Tears gushed down his face, but he didn’t dare wipe them away. Trickling rivers of diluted red would be quite the sight indeed.
He launched to his feet, ignoring an agony that had his attention in a headlock.
He was too slow.
From behind, Elmore grasped him from beneath the arms, his hold unshakeable. “I may have run out of blades . . .” he heaved, barely less out of breath than his captive. “But I have you now. Any minute, and the Shifting will deliver me a fresh biome. Someplace where your—” he said nothing more for a split second, steadying his hold against the boy’s insistent squirms
“—death will be assured. You struggle too much. Dragging you all the way home would be a living hell.”
“Why not just suffocate me then?” Remus blurted, in a comment that was probably unwise. “Or snap my neck?”
“Are you suicidal, or simply stupid?” Elmore jabbed back. “To be honest, I’m still debating what I want to do with you, but I dislike such crude methods of killing. Maybe if you zipped your mouth for more than a few seconds at a time, I'd consider letting you live.”
Remus could hear the conflict in Elmore’s voice. He was altering from being dead-set on stripping Remus of his life, to indecision at any given moment. It was very possible the teenager had never killed before. Unbounded, he had likely skewered enough to construct his own personal castle in their ashes, but humans — other living, breathing ambassadors of gods — that kind of killing only really occurred at skirmishing villages, or the front lines. Not yet a Foot-Soldier, Elmore would not have been exposed to those horrors. Time was young, and in the grand schemes of things, the man latching onto Remus was even younger. His eyes had not yet witnessed the extent of this world.
“What happened to Tal?” The thought suddenly occurred to Remus, as precarious as his position was. “Locked up in some deeper cell I suppose?”
Elmore’s silence dripped of unease. “Edmar interrogated him, and . . .”
He shut his mouth.
“Well?” Remus urged, noting the man’s softening hold. “What happened?”
Another pause. “He never left that room.”
Everything suddenly grew very silent. The darkness of night seeped through the air, eliminating the last of daylight’s amber essence. Bugs chirped, the lands at their feet began to shift, and in the very distance, just about recogniseable through the veils of midnight, familiar structures he had only seen from overhead came into stark view.
A high-pitched screech rendered Remus’ voice box into a thing of nightmares. His fleeting strength pinpointing to a fierce flick of the head, he crashed into Elmore’s nose.
He heard the sound of crushed cartilage, saw the birth of a sweeping new vista birthing below, but Remus no longer cared for his own safety. Let it be begone with the wind, for all the good it would do him. For at that moment, in that visceral second that twisted at his guts, he only cared for one thing.
He would avenge Tal, no matter the cost.