Lucid Waking

Archive for the ‘Hero Cycle’ Category

The Prince: Fairytale

            Dinner finished quite uneventfully besides the bit and pieces of forced conversation throughout the night. Sir and Lady Albertson remained stone cold and purposely avoided Lord and Lady Breckenridge. Lady Albertson was a long, thin woman with long gray hair left to fall down her back. Her hands were slender and smooth without a hint of wrinkles or discoloration. She stood a head taller than her husband and seemed to glide across the floor. Teagan thought she would very much like to talk to this obviously prominent woman, though her ruby eyes were disconcerting especially when they glowed at the mention of a Breckenridge’s name.
            Lady Breckenridge seemed the exact opposite except for her stony disposition. She however had more prominence of the two women and even seemed to overpower than her husband on matters of state. Her hair was the golden brown of toasted marshmallows and was pulled neatly behind her head in a bun revealing pointed ears. The tips of her ears were green as were the tips of her graceful fingers. She was not too tall in comparison to Lady Albertson and her husband, but nearly towered over Lady Devlin, who was not much taller than Teagan.
            The two women were the most composed and secretive, but when only Teagan was observing, their looks fought silent battles in the space between them. Lady Devlin led Lady Breckenridge quickly out of the dining room long before the Albertson couple had even a chance to end their conversation with another prominent family. Teagan closed the shutters of the window to the dining room and started moving the dirty dishes to the sink.
            “Don’t you girls worry about washing,” Sinead, the cook, said. She was a large muscular woman who acted as the all the maid’s mother, second only to Lady Watson, of course. Talia licked the gravy off her fingers from a messy person’s plate and nodded.
            “We better go back to our posts,” she said motioning to leave. “Any spot left open and Lord Devlin will torture us. There’s really nothing to see now, anyway.”
            Teagan and Talia ran back to their spot in front of the library as quickly and quietly as their hideous high-heels would allow. Both girls were thankful they were there before Lord Devlin left and he nodded to both of them as he passed with the Sir Albertson. Lady Albertson was nowhere to be seen.
            The noise of conversation was heard throughout the hall as the Devlin’s rarely closed the door to the parlor, but the words were tangled within other’s words so much that it didn’t seem to make a difference at all that the girls could eavesdrop. There was a single ding of a spoon against crystal and the noise died down. The door was shut and all other conversation was blocked from the waiting maids in the hall. A few girls dared to mutter displeasure, but they were quickly silenced as Lady Devlin came out of the parlor.
            “You girls are exempt from any other duties for the night. I will have Lady Watson lock the doors, and you are all to go to bed and not come up from your rooms until the festivities have ended tomorrow. We can stand until noon to have the rooms still unkempt. That’s an order,” she finished with uncharacterized anger. The maids quickly filed down the stairs to the basement. Some of the girls later in the line slipped off their shoes and held them expectantly under their arms.
            “Talia, dear,” Lady Devlin said sweetly as she watched the procession, “could you send Lady Watson up here?”
            Talia curtseyed as best she could in the tight skirt and went bustling off to fulfill the lady of the house’s request. Lady Devlin grabbed Teagan’s arm and pulled her off to the side, but made no motion to explain. Teagan stood next to the Lady as if she was her apprentice, their exact shade black hair and matching hazel eyes specked with gold watching the line of maids go down the stairs. Teagan noted that she was a bit taller than her mistress and her hair was cut short, like a page, upon request to keep it out of her eyes. Lady Devlin’s hair fell perfectly straight down her back, tiny braids pulling the side pieces of hair to another braid in the back. It was this perfection and the perfection in her flawless pale skin compared to Teagan’s freckled light brown that reminded Teagan of her place as a maid and not as the countess of a great sum of land that many of the guests this night borrowed.
            When the last maid had returned to her bedchambers, the heavy clomping of Lady Watson arriving was heard up the stairs. Despite her quite rotund size, Lady Watson never seemed to breath heavy or break a sweat running up and down the stairs of the mansion. This had never occurred to Teagan before until she saw her arrive at the top of the stairs. It was also the first time that Teagan had ever seen Lady Watson visibly surprised.
            “I need you to lock all of the doors to the rooms we won’t need,” Lady Devlin said. Without another warning, she grabbed Teagan’s arm and led her towards the parlor. “Stay by the door,” she whispered before opening it and walking in. No one made any move to recognize her entrance and she pulled in as swiftly as she had left to a spot close to the door next to Lord and Lady Breckenridge.
            “…and that is why I don’t think we should bring the boy back from the dead,” Lord Albertson was red at this point in his obviously long speech. His wife was shaking her head to the side of the group, but remained silent.
            “Please,” she said to the Breckenridge couple standing by the door fuming, “Ignore his antics. If the Lord Devlin believes that this course of action is for the best according to the Forces, we are not going to stand in the way.” Her final words were directed at her husband in a burning gaze of her eyes glowing with unknown intensity. Her husband moved his mouth to speak, but decided against it and closed his mouth again.
            “Ah, Lady Teagan,” Lord Devlin said walking towards her. She felt a push as some unknown force persuaded her forward into the room. “I’m glad to see you could join us. Please sit down.”
            She glanced around the room at the colorful frowning faces of expectant people. She felt as if she was a child in a doll shop that she had visited many times before, but now the dolls didn’t look right. They weren’t smiling or serene, but full of hatred and annoyance. A few expressions calmed at her presence, but many remained porcelain still. She shook her head and remained focused on Lord Devlin.
            But the more she focused on him, the more warped his image became. Who she once thought of as a powerful master, she now saw as someone struggling to keep control. He was drowning in his problems and he needed her in a last desperate attempt to keep the lands he ruled safe. She suddenly became incredibly scared, but she swallowed her fear and remained standing.
            “Does she know the story?” Lord Breckenridge asked from somewhere behind her.
            Lord Devlin shook his head. “I kept the situation secret from her, of course. She’s been a maid in my household, nothing more.”
            “Then we should tell her,” the androgynous figure said stepping out from the shadows. “Seeing as I am clearly one of a third party here, I should be the one to tell her. Does anyone object?”
            When no one answered, Lord Devlin waved his hand for the guest to continue and stepped back. Teagan followed its movements as it walked to the center of the room and gazed at the fire.
            “We’ll start it like any other story starts: Once upon a time the queen of the fairies gave birth with her human husband a boy and naturally, both worlds were outraged. It was a fragile situation to begin with since the fairies were not coping well that their king was human and the humans were not pleased that their duke’s wife was fae. Never the less, the true trouble began when the child was born for while neither race would claim him, neither race wanted the other to have him.
            “Since the child was one of both worlds, he was entitled to all of the riches therein. Anything his mother or father chose to give him upon their deaths was his. He would, also, receive the title that his parent had left behind; both races agreed upon that. So if someone interposed, they would get the fortune promised to him as well as the power over the fae and the humans.
            “I suppose this the time to mention that the duke was a very good friend of the king. In fact, this particular duke was the king’s younger brother, so, while the king did not agree with his brother marrying the queen of the fae, he was not going to ostracize him. The child being the king’s nephew, he might in fact be entitled to the throne if a few strings were pulled. If not, he was still protected by the royal family and all the riches and privileges they owned.
            “A retired knight of the current king was getting tired of owning very little land and like everyone else in the kingdom aspired to raise to a higher class. Thus being ruled by this duke, and weighing his options, he kept his eye on the duke’s son. Unfortunately for the knight, the duke’s son was murdered and, because of his particular attention to the family, the knight was accused. No one knows who the real murder is or if the knight is indeed guilty, but whatever really happened, the duke and his family became enemies with the knight’s family and threw them off their land. Another knight was given the land and eventually everything returned to normal. The first knight had managed to be given land by the king under another duke for his previous service to the king.
            “The two families remained rivals, however, especially when political ties were broken off between the fae and the humans. Trade plummeted and the land fell into famine and disaster. Eventually the king’s second brother took control of most of the land and managed to cut down the crime.
            “This brings us to the situation we have now where for political reasons between the fae, the Breckenridge and Devlin families wish to resurrect the dead prince and bring the government back to its original state.”
            Teagan nodded, her head swirling with information. “Where to I come into this?”
            Lady Devlin stepped forward and put her cold hand on Teagan’s shoulder. “I believe we should start getting preparations under way for the ceremony. The conservatory is clean and open and has a clear view to the graveyard. We’ve made it accessible for any work you need to do before hand, Sir Drummond. Everyone else, please carry on.” The androgynous guest, who Teagan assumed to be Sir Drummond, bowed deeply and walked away down the hall. Lady Devlin pulled Teagan away from the crowd to a corner in front of the windows.
            The night outside was like a snow globe. The world was surrounded by blue crystal and allowed just a hint of purple from the world beyond the glass. Just barely shining through were the tiny little lights of stars serving as the backdrop for the gigantic sparkling moon casting shadows on the garden below it. Lady Devlin stopped and sat down on the window seat under the flawless sky.
            “I suppose you’ve figured out that Lord and Lady Breckenridge are the duke and queen of the fae respectively. Sir Albertson was the knight suspected of killing the prince. My husband and I were the third party involved with restoring the land in the king’s poor health. That would mean,” she raised her hand to cut off Teagan’s interruption, “that Lord Breckenridge and my husband are brothers and kin to the king.”
            The information clicked like keys in locks and all the emotions behind the locked doors came rushing out in a whirlwind. Teagan staggered under the epiphanies. “Oh my Gods,” she whispered. Her servant instincts kicked in and she stared at dustless trampled carpeting. Lady Devlin put her hand on Teagan’s knee and waited patiently for all the shock to dissipate.
            Lady Devlin was not watching her come to, but instead, kept and eye at the crowd starting to form into groups around her. A few at the telling of the story felt bold enough to side with Sir Albertson, but would not remain by him when he suggested several times to go against the operation. An equally opposing force was Lady Breckenridge who insisted that this had to be done, not just for the good of her people, but for the human kingdom as well. Lord Devlin and Lord Breckenridge seemed to keep together with a third party not partial either way. The two strongly opposed sides stood staring at each other and whispering where the third party laughed and pretended not to notice the drastic change in aura.
            Teagan put her warm hands on Lady Devlin’s causing the Lady to snap back to the girl’s side. “But you still haven’t answered where I come in to all this.”

The Prince: The Dinner Party

            She sighed in anger and hastily tied her dress in a knot around her thighs. She never wanted to wear this dress and was thankful that it was slit to her hip so that she could tie it up comfortably above her ankles in a knot that would stay. When she knew the matron wasn’t looking, she slipped off her painfully high high-heeled shoes in the corner before rushing off to light more candles throughout the house.
            It was three hours before All Hallow’s Eve, and Teagan and the rest of the maids were all busily running around the castle fulfilling last minute preparations before the guests arrived. The head of the maids, Lady Watson, stood at the base of the stairs with her hands folded across her ample bosom and occasionally yelling out orders to the poor skinny maids around her. Several girls tripped over the terribly revealing skirts and rolled their ankles on the high shoes, but Lady Watson didn’t miss a beat in perfecting the scene. By nine thirty, preparations were finished and Lady Watson shoved the maids into a line down the left wall of the hall. Teagan ran to the corner where she left her shoes and struggled to slip them on as she ran for her post at the door of the library. In one final nervous gesture, she brushed off the knot she had tied her skirt into and stood perfectly straight, careful to stare cautiously down her perfectly straight nose bridge.
            As the lord and lady of the Devlin Manor came down the main hall stairs, Lady Watson bustled down the line, perfecting posture and fixing hair and makeup that had been carelessly ruined in the haste. Teagan stood breathlessly as Lady Watson whisked her pudgy fingers with surprising grace over the corner of her eye to correct a small smudge of eyeliner. Then the matron was off to the next girl to correct her posture.
            “That’s quite enough, Lady Watson,” Lord Devlin said politely, but firmly. Lady Watson stopped in her bustle and stood staring at him as if he had just walked over to her and smacked her across the face. She wrung her hands, but kept perfect posture as he lent his arm to his wife and continued down the hall past the statues of breathing women to the dining room.
            “Hmph,” Lady Watson snorted, storming over to the door at the side of the stairs leading to the basement where the maids’ slept. “If anyone needs me, I’ll be down in the rooms helping to wrap Celia’s ankle. Everything should go according to plan if you all just stand like we rehearsed.”
            She closed the door with a loud bang. Her hurried footsteps were heard in the silence that followed before the clock took over the rhythm filling the space. A tall redhead girl turned to face Teagan, her blue eyes flashing with excitement.
            “My, doesn’t Lady Watson hate Lord Devlin?” she suppressed a giggle and faced the hall again. “I don’t suppose you know the story?”
            Teagan sighed. “You might as well tell it, Talia. What sort of Hallow’s Eve would this be if you didn’t tell the story again?”
            There were mutterings along the line of girls, some with excited murmurs, some girls voicing displeasure.
            “How about the abbreviated version? Lady Watson used to be the prettiest lady in all of the courts, but one day she—” The girl’s story was cut off by the hollow ring of the doorbell and the clicking heels of the butler. All the girls spontaneously stood straighter and all their heads snapped to straightforward attention. The guests filled into the dining room, a few stopping to try and evoke a response from the maids when no one else was looking. When the room was quiet, the girls relaxed again as they had learned to do and tried to listen to the conversation within the dining room. The cook came out of the kitchen and signaled Teagan and Talia forward to the help serve. Teagan grabbed a large plate of a mashed vegetable and walked forward into the room.
            “I don’t see why this is such a large political advancement. The boy was clearly not meant to rule or The Forces would have kept him alive. We shouldn’t be tampering with Their plans like this,” a portly gentleman hit the edge of the table with his open hand causing several wine glasses to shake. His thinner wife put a hand out to steady him, but remained silent. Her red eyes glanced at Teagan as she moved around the table scooping out generous amounts of food, but Teagan kept her eyes downward on her work.
            “If I might be so bold,” Lady Devlin said firmly, “but the fact of the matter can not be denied that he was murdered for being involved in the Breckenridge fortune and not, in fact, for purely political purposes.”
            “We all can say that he was involved as far as the money is concerned, but I don’t think taking such drastic measures to bring him back are necessary. I’m simply saying that if he’s dead someone meant him dead and we cannot afford to delve into the problems of the past again.”
            “He is not your son,” an average-looking woman said looking down at her plate as Talia filled it with bread stuffing. Her hands moved gracefully to smooth out the wrinkles in the napkin on her lap. “You could not possibly understand the pain.”
            “We understand what you must be going through,” said the portly man’s wife cautiously, “but it’s unclear what part he had to play in the entire affair and to bring him back would be blasphemous to the Gods. It might do more harm to bring him back than to keep him dead.”
            The graceful woman looked up in protest, her jade-like eyes flashing, but Lord Devlin raised his hand and the two women kept silent. “I believe at this point, discussing the moralities of such an operation is out of any one’s hands. If it is any consolation, Sir Albertson, we have considered the Forces in our decision and they have answered affirmatively.”
            “Hmph, I shall believe it when I see it, heathen,” the portly gentleman said under his breath. His wife shushed him, angrily, but Lord Devlin made no motion of hearing the comment.
            “The rest of the guests here have agreed to take part best they can in the operation based mostly on the fact that The Forces have accepted this turn of fate and require that he is restored to life. I hope this is acceptable to you, Sir Albertson.”
            The portly gentleman stood up and made a motion to bang the table again, when his eyes rested on Teagan, hurrying to the kitchen to get another dish. She turned around just as he sat down, keeping his rat-like red eyes fixed on her. She blushed and kept the bowl of soup close to her, although it started to burn her skin through the thin dress.
            “Many complements on the meal,” one of the guests commented after Lord Devlin had signaled to start eating. The speaker was strangely androgynous with a voice to low to be female and too high to male. When Teagan accidentally bumped into the figure, it’s dark gray skin felt rubbery to the touch. As trained, she moved away as quickly, but as nonchalantly as she could.
            Teagan was honored with carrying the roasted and stuffed pig to the dinner table. She tried not to look into its black eyes cloudy with death, but she couldn’t help but wonder how anyone would want to eat this delicacy with the head still attached. In her thoughts, she glanced at the perfectly round pig glistening with fat and suppressed a gag. As she placed it in front of Lord Devlin, she noticed the room get suddenly quiet and cold.
            “I don’t suppose you know who is going to perform the ceremony?” the androgynous guest asked after a discrete sip of wine.
            “Let us not ruin our dinner with talk of more politics,” Lady Devlin said sitting back as her husband started cutting up the pig. Teagan looked down in disgust and walked away quickly towards the kitchen. “But yes, we do know who will be going down to the cemetery to do the…honors.”

Betelgeuse VII: Finale

           When both of them were tired, they decided on shifts for the night. Cindy watched the sun go down and the clear-lit moon rise up, lighting the sand to blue crystals. She relaxed and allowed her eyes to droop just slightly. Suddenly out of the corner of her eye, the man she had met was being dragged ever so slightly behind her. She turned around quickly and grabbed his ankle in one movement. The black shape behind her pulled him faster, and she scramble to keep up with his moving figure. He had awaken by then and was trying to put his feet down to run, but couldn’t because she was holding on. In the darkness, she felt his hand grab her shoulder and she let go of his ankle and grabbed his outstretched arm. Their hands linked and she felt safe again; she became conscious of her heartbeat and tried to slow it down. Minutes went by when she spotted another single spot light on a box. They stopped in front of it and another pair of hands pushed her into the circle of light alone. She opened the box carefully and peered inside. Surprisingly, there was no rolled parchment, but a small pistol that she had seen before in movies set in the nineteen forties. She reached to pick it up, but stopped and withdrew her hand. Remember he likes theatrics. Fine, she thought, I’ll give him theatrics. She kicked over the box and stepped back to the edge of the light. Silence followed the crash of the box falling and the skid of the pistol across the floor. Then there was a click of a pulley being let down before a final click where it stopped behind her. Maxwell 700 got off the elevator and stepped beside her. For a few moments they stood staring at each other before he walked over and picked up the pistol. Aiming it at her he click off the safety.
           “At your word,” he said firmly.
           She took a deep breath. “It’s roulette,” she said moving closer to the small barrel. “Shoot.”
           The gun went off and silence followed; both stood motionless for the unknown amount of time to follow. Then she took a step forward and the lights came up on a warehouse filled with wires. The single door at the end of the long room shuttered and clicked as someone struggled with the door. Quickly, she ran to the 700 and wrenched the gun out of his hand. He stayed statue still with his hand still hovering over an imaginary trigger.
           “Cindy, what the hell?” Aaron yelled. He coughed suddenly and fell on the floor. Cindy ran over to him, but stayed quiet. She felt a tug at her stomach as invisible hands tried to pull it and the rest of her digestive tract out her mouth. She lurched forward. Cold hands pulled her backwards and slipped a gas mask over her face. Through foggy lenses, she saw people collapse, a few managing to scream as the motionless robots stood perfectly still through the haze. She turned around to see who had joined her and met Margarita’s glassy eyes.
           “I’m half robot,” she said, pulling Cindy up. “I’m only half fading.” She smiled and gave Cindy a little push. “The door is straight ahead if you follow the left wall. Get the hell out of here before he wakes his robots up.”
           Without second warning, Cindy ran. She ran up the stairs past the point of her lungs bursting and her legs burning with pain. She ran until she reached the top of the stairs and her outstretched hand met resistance. Pushing with all of her weight, she reached the bathroom stall where she had first met Trish. She had knocked over the toilet in her haste and it lay cracked on the tile floor. Cindy replaced the trap door and just for good measure, put the pieces of the toilet over the door. Only then did she stop to breath and take of the mask. She dropped the mask on the toilet debris and stepped out of the stall. A girl with fire engine red hair was looking at herself in the mirror and putting on matching red lipstick.
           “How long will you be gone?” she asked, but Cindy ignored her and walked out of the bathroom back into the terminal. The river of people was still continuing its separate ways, ignoring the black holes of doorways in the walls. She heard a crash behind her of smashed porcelain and with a final rush of adrenaline, entered the stream of people.
           She followed a small group who broke off from the stream to a terminal returning back to Earth. Hesitating about whether or not she should sneak on, she bought a ticket at the booth and waited at the terminal. The intercom buzzed on and announced boarding just as a medium height boy with rustled black hair came running up to her. Everything except his face looked like Aaron. She turned away and hurried onto the airbus. She heard the boy being stopped by the guards at the door for not having a ticket before the door closed and eliminated the sound. The threesome argued for a bit before the engines kicked in and she flew away.
           A few months later a package arrived in the mail. In it was a box of flowers and an obituary: “Aaron Cane, age 17 was found dead in the middle of the Betelgeuse VII terminal on August 24. He was apparently asphyxiated. May his body and soul rest in peace.” She found no name attached to the letter, but she put the flowers in a vase and the newspaper clipping on her bulletin board. Then, she locked her office door and took a shuttle down to Betelgeuse VII. Taking a deep breath of the air, she just sat down in the middle of the terminal where she had imagined him being found. She meditated for hours that first day before getting up, her face streaked with tears, and getting on a shuttle back to Earth.
           Eventually the flowers wilted and the obituary faded, but she would still visit the Betelgeuse VII terminal every month and sit in the spot where she imagined he was found. She didn’t know why something in her needed to go back for closure, but she would satisfy it anyway. Every month she would stand back up after an hour had passed and buy another ticket back to her office on Earth. Although she never really knew him and couldn’t figure out why she would get so depressed on August 24, she would half imagine a medium height boy with ruffled black hair nonchalantly walking on the bus and sitting next to her.
           “I’ve got a problem,” he would say pulling out a videotape, “my friend’s gone missing.”
           She smiled. I think we could all say that, she thought and watched the Betelgeuse VII terminal out her window slowly getting farther away.

Betelgeuse VII: Riddles

            “You aught to know what happened to Sandra,” Margarita said, quietly, glancing at the 700 to make sure he wasn’t watching her. “She was an actress, a good one too. And when Maxwell decided that he needed her, she disappeared from the scene. He erased her records, burned her films, and got rid of her completely. No one knew what had happened and when there was no written work, people just assumed she wasn’t real. Then, he used her. She was the face of democracy, she was the distractions he needed to get into hotels, past security, and rubbing elbows with the people we were to kill. Her last job was this tape. She wrote out the lines that Aaron had to say and then went into one of those rooms and recited her lines. Improvised the hell out of them and then, like promised, killed herself. Well, that’s what we were told, but no corpse can be so mangled if she did it to herself. We had no idea whether this would work until long after she was dead. None of us, except Aaron and Maxwell had seen it before.”
            “Why are you telling me this?” Cindy asked, pale. She could feel her hands getting numb from the cold and her stomach was knotting up at the smile the 700 had on his face.
            Margarita shrugged. “I didn’t seem to hurt to tell you. Whatever he’s got planned, I’m sure it won’t matter if you know a little bit more about the morals we run on. I was drafted into this, like you, and no matter how much you know, if you get out alive, the information you have won’t make a difference.”
            Maxwell 700 stood up and bowed. “Please excuse us, we will be a while. Some preparations need to be made.”
            As the 700 and his entourage of robots walked towards a nearby door, Aaron walked over to her with a smile. “Well, nervous?”
            Margarita pushed him away. “She doesn’t need you anymore. Why should she trust you?”
            “And she should trust you?” Aaron sat down on the step and leaned against the wall like he had done in her office. “God, he’s making this so long. Why can’t he just get it over with? I’m sick of all the drama.”
            “It seems like his whole existence is drama,” Cindy said, sitting next to him. “What’s you’re story, Aaron? I can’t believe you’ve been here all your life.”
            “Yep. I’ve pretty much help build the place. Before I inherited the title of ‘technology connoisseur,’ we had a guy down here that would do nothing but build traps, lights; basically all the stage junk you see here. It’s crazy. He’s probably going to push a button and create an entirely new room.”
            Margarita sat down on the floor between the two. “Hey, Aaron. Weren’t you drafted down here? You used to live with you’re parents on Earth, right?”
            Aaron sighed. “My parents were target for trying to get the robots off Earth and keep it purely environmental. It was a sticky situation, but somehow they succeeded and the word got all the way to Betelgeuse VII. After that, he pulled me down here to do mostly tech jobs, but occasional assassinations. Nothing too big. See, I acted too before I came here and I managed to make him believe I was sincere in my cause. It’s up to you to trust us, but I thought before you go, just a couple tips, it seems like he’s almost done. If he uses room seven, just make sure not to touch anything. Room six, I would not look into the light. Room five, Keep down low, and don’t stand up all the way. Room four, I hope not, but there are lots of weapons in room four. Try not to touch anything, but if you’re in a jam, there are plenty of things to use. Don’t believe anything you see in room three and room two and room one should be fine. They’re just storage rooms, so you’re not going to be there. If you are, just use the walls; they’re the only two rooms with real walls.”
            Cindy gaped at him. “Wait! Room seven, don’t— “
            “No time,” Aaron said getting up walking away with a faux air of superior annoyance, “remember he likes theatrics.”
            Maxwell 700 announced his arrival with the clank of rusty metal. “The idea is quite simple,” he started, lifting her up from her seat and escorting her to the only open door in the room. “It’s less of a strength game than one of wits. You receive a riddle and when you answer the riddle, you are given a key. The key will enable you to continue to the next room. Take as long as you need. Good luck.” At these last words, the 700 pushed her into the room and shut the door loudly. She waited for the click of the lock before a single spotlight clicked on to a box in the middle of the room. She approached it slowly, but remained on the outside of the circle of light. Cindy looked up into the rafters, trying to find the light source and hopefully, what the 700 had in store for her. She remained absolutely still and waited. At a point, it took her entire will to stop her mind from just pulling the rest of her into the circle of light and move, but she remained composed. Compromising, she sat down and folded her hands in her lap.
            She was awakened by the sound of the door opening and someone entering, but there was no other sound following that. She turned around to face her visitor, but couldn’t see anything and when she turned around a figure had stepped into the light and opened the chest in the middle. Instantly, there was a whir of machinery and clicks of the room being changed. The robot calmly handed her the piece of paper and stood facing her without another move. At her touch, the paper disintegrated and turned into a sandy powder. Lights dimmed on in front of her to reveal a beach. She felt the robot pushing her forward towards the soft sand, pulsing waves, and warm breeze. Cindy took a deep breath of the metallic air and turned to face the source of the waves to brush away the wisps of hair starting to frame her face. Her eyes rested on a lone figure sitting on the sand. The creature’s hair was black and the artificial sun gave it a blue glow. As she approached, she saw it was an ageless man resting his head on his knees, his green-gray eyes focused on the sea. He made no move of recognition when she caught up with him and sat down next to him on the sand. She followed his gaze with her own pastel blue eyes to the glowing white line of the horizon.
            “I suppose you want the question,” he said. His voice was thick with a Scottish accent and her mind took a few seconds to comprehend what he had said. He took this as an answer and concluded, “I don’t know.”
            “Quite,” she said, though she couldn’t figure out why. “Just the key if you will.”
            The man looked at her. “Key?”
            “Well, if you don’t have the question, then surely you have the key.”
            He looked at her blankly for a moment and then laughed. His laughter ceased as quickly as it had started and he looked at her with stone cold eyes. “Clever of you. But while I don’t have a question, I do have an answer.”
            They sat looking at each other for a while before Cindy stood up. “Get up,” she said, annoyed. She pulled him from his seat and dragged him across the sand.
            He protested and tried pulling his arm away from hers when he thought she was relaxing her grip, but she managed to hold on fast to his arm and drag him across the beach. Her stomach started to growl when she dared stop and she plopped onto the ground, pulling the man down with her.
            “I haven’t seen the end of this beach,” the man said out of breath. He was lying on the sand, his arm still in her hand, leaning against his elbow as best he could manage. He gazed at her quietly for a few moments while trying to regain his breath. “I don’t suppose there is an exit. People come in all the time, but no one has ever come out.”
            Cindy stared at the waves reluctantly. “Where is everybody?”
            The man sighed and lied down in the sand submissively. “I’m the last one. The girl I found just disappeared after I got lost. She made me swear for my life to say to the next person who came in: I suppose you want the question, but I don’t know. And the other rubbish.”
            Cindy looked at him with a start. “How’d you get lost?”
            “I just—I don’t know. Suddenly I was here all alone and after walking for days, I couldn’t find anyone else.”
            “Damn, I knew it!” Cindy cried, pinching her nose bridge with her free hand.
            “What?” the man asked, scrambling to sit up to be at eye level with her.
            “That’s the riddle. Well, not really. The whole this is a puzzle.”
            “I don’t understand.”
            “He puts someone into this room and says to solve a riddle and you get a key. This key is how you get to the next room. The riddle is figuring out that he removes the previous person when a new person comes in. You could leave, but then I’m stuck until someone else comes. The key is you; you’re my ticket out of here. The next room is wherever you lead me when they take you away. So, we can’t get separated or I’m stuck.”
            The man looked at her. “I’ve never realized that.” He sat there in silence for a while before prying his arm gently from her grip. “If you promise to get me out, I’ll try and help you. But I don’t want to be stuck here any longer.”
            Cindy put her hand on his shoulder. “I promise."

To be continued…

Betelgeuse VII: Answers

            They took a taxi down to the bus station and waited in long lines to pay their fare. Cindy looked at her watch: five o’clock. Aaron seemed nervous, but whenever she would turn to ask him if he was all right, he would just bite his lip and nod.
            “Are you sure we have to do this?” he said, again.
            She gave him an exasperated look, but paused as she watched him following her blindly down to the terminal. He was staring out the windows and she could see he was giving it all his effort not cry. She stopped at put her arm around his shoulders. “Come on, we’re almost there. If she’s going to be anywhere, she’ll be somewhere around Betelgeuse VII. If not, it’s a good place to start looking.”
            “I just,” he started, but stopped as the signal to start boarding blasted on the intercom. The other passengers pushed them onto the bus; Aaron took a seat to the back of the bus as soon as he could.
            “You just…” she prompted him, but he kept his lips shut and stared out the window for the remainder of the ride. Betelgeuse VII was one of the quieter stations, but dark and dimly filled with neon life. Occasionally a dark hole in the wall would appear as the restrooms, telephones, or an exit transporter. Cindy glanced at her watch as she led Aaron towards the taxi terminal: seven thirty.
            “We’d better go to a hotel for the night. I don’t have much cash with me but I’m sure a small motel should be sufficient. We’ll start looking tomorrow. Any ideas where to start?” She turned around at this question to face a multitude of strangers continuing to walk along their paths towards an exit. She glanced around, trying not to be pulled by the traffic, but couldn’t find Aaron anywhere. “Damn,” she swore quietly and tried pushing herself upstream to a wall. The people ignored her as she scrambled to get to a quiet place to think. After noticing a small black hole labeled women’s bathroom, she snuck into the florescent-lit room and stared into the mirror.
            “What are you doing here?” a girl asked. Her hair was dyed a bright fire engine red and she leaned against the sink to look Cindy in the face as she said this. Her eyes were green and glowed softly.
            Cindy looked at the girl nonchalantly. “Going to pee. What do you expect?” To make her point, she started walking towards the stall, but the girl grabbed her elbow and pulled hard.
            “I like you. You’re not one of those stodgy old adults. You’ve got spunk and class. Hi, I’m Trish.”
            Cindy gave her a half smile. “Megan.”
            Trish gave her half a nod and pulled up beside Cindy. “You should really change your name. It seems so…blah. You need something with more attitude. Hey, you want to see something really cool?” she asked suddenly.
            Cindy laughed. “Sure, why not?”
            “Follow me. But whatever you do, don’t talk.” Trish led Cindy into the far bathroom stall and pulled the toilet from the wall like a chair. Underneath the apparatus was a small ring, which Trish pulled and opened a staircase. She ran down the stairs with expert speed, then turned around and put her finger to her lips before continuing down. Cindy looked about her for something to take with, but could find no pipes; at this point Trish was already out of sight. Cindy followed quickly, trying not to touch anything about her into the pitch black.
            Cindy felt like she was in a broken film and the same scene was playing over and over again. She was still in the dark and she continued for what felt like hours down the staircase. The only measure of time she had was the steady decrease in temperature. Finally, she spotted a light at the bottom of the staircase. As she approached, she realized that two people were talking and as she reached the rim of the circle of light, she could hear what they were saying.
            “Well, what do we do about her? We still haven’t come to a consensus.” Though she couldn’t see him, she could tell that Aaron had made it down here before her and she felt a pang of panic as she realized she was to fend for herself.
            “You sure she’s fooled?” a woman said, though from what Cindy could tell it didn’t sound like Trish.
            “I told you, I gave her the video just like planned. And I told her all that BS you had me memorize. I did my end perfectly,” Aaron said, annoyed.
            “Well that’s a change,” the woman responded.
            “Stop,” a man’s voice said. “She’s here.”
            The light turned dramatically on her and she squinted in the sudden change of light. “Welcome to Hell,” the man said. She was bathed in light and the people who were just talking were in the dark.
            “Well if I’m going to die,” Cindy said, “I might as well get some answers before I do. Some closure if you will.” She could hear safeties being clicked off and her skin started to tingle in panicked anticipation.
            The man laughed. “But if you get away, all my secrets get out.”
            Cindy stared down the light. “I won’t get away. You have the obvious upper hand.”
            The man laughed again. “Fair enough.” She heard him stand up in a creak of metal joints. The light on her dimmed and lights around her faded on. The room was a large cavernous business office with a chair bolted to the floor right at the bottom of the stairs. The only cover she noted were the pillars holding the terminal up. Four doors lined the sides of the room, but it was obvious they were locked and the deadbolts and chains would be a pain to get through if she was under fire. The stairs came in at the lower right corner of the square room right next to the wall. Aaron was leaning against it, his arms folded across his chest. The second woman who was talking was dressed in a skin tight black uniform and had an automatic rifle in her hand farthest from Cindy; the hand closest was robotic and the sleeve of her uniform was ripped off to show the entire mechanical arm proudly. The head of this odd group was not a man as she had supposed, but she noted without surprised that he was not in the best condition either way. He had been stripped of synthetic flesh and was a 700 model. The blue chrome glimmered in the light and Cindy sat down on the steps.
            “Well, you don’t seem surprised.”
            “The only thing I find surprising is the curious absence of the girl who led me down here.”
            “I was hoping for a little more discomfort than that.”
            Cindy smiled. “I’m sorry. I work with people who are crazy. I’m a psychologist.”
            “Oh, so that’s what you do,” Aaron said shifting so he was standing up straight, his arms still across his chest.
            “Shut up, Aaron,” the mechanical man said. “She’s looking for answers and we’re going to give them to her. I’ll start by telling you a little bit about my crew. You’ve already met Aaron, who is just a human orphan we found on Alpha Centauri VI. He was found abandoned and dying in the middle of the base under the main terminal. To my left, is Margarita. She is also is human, but in a tragic police accident lost the left half of her upper body and is half 600 robot. The little doll you met coming her is Patricia. And she is a figment of your imagination. She’s a sprite, I believe. A hologram. You see what you want to see in her and when you don’t want to see her, she’s gone. The girl in the video is Sandra, who had a tragic accident and couldn’t be with us tonight. I’m Maxwell 700 and the last of the 700s to date.”
            Cindy nodded. “Fascinating. So where do I come in. What’s your mission?”
            “You already know my mission. Well, I suppose I should tell you how I lost my skin. It was a riot on Betelgeuse III between robots and humans. The whole base is known for their bigotry against robots. Some fight got started because a robot didn’t get down on its knees or it asked for directions of a human, something stupid to that effect. I got caught in the cross fire and ended up being burned with the other robots who didn’t make it. But I didn’t break down; I was a 700 and they didn’t expect there to be a 700. I fled to Betelgeuse VII since I couldn’t leave the bases without proper identification and built a tunnel under various places in the terminal down to the forgotten basements. I knew there had to be a basement, since the building was standing and in some places go quite high off the ground. I set up the supplementary mafia as a sort of bridge between bigoted people and what society thought of them. For obvious reasons, I couldn’t take this mission any farther than where it is now; the government would be after me for even suggesting such drastic measures for equality. And that’s where you come in. I needed someone to reach the people and tell them that equality was a good idea. There are parts of the human brain that I don’t understand and I believe it’s important to take a nonviolent approach to it if we are going to come out of hiding and make it work. I’m not succeeding in my work and I think it would be vastly more appropriate to be nonviolent than a hypocrite.”
            “Ok. Why the guns and show? You could have just asked me.”
            “No, I couldn’t. I told you, if I let you go, my secret gets out.”
            “And if I didn’t come today? I might have let someone else know about the supplementary mafia before you were ready.”
            “And why would you? It didn’t seem to have any significance then.”
            Cindy paused, stuck in logic. “This just seems wrong,” she said honestly. “Hypnotize me if you want or do something to convince yourself that I won’t tell, but I can’t do it. We’re brainwashing a people for equality and while the cause is something I believe in, I don’t think we can take drastic approaches like this. It’ll be impossible to ‘fix’ everyone anyway. Someone down the line will figure out that they’re being brainwashed and resist. People on this end will die and no one will understand because no one will listen based on the approach to change them. People don’t like change and if they want to change, they should do it on their own. Besides, that’s the only permanent way to guarantee the results you want.”
            The robot shook his head. “I can’t let you go.”
            “Then don’t let me go,” Cindy said defiantly, standing up. “But just reassure me that you see my point. I fully support you and if I can leave, I will take a more active role in helping out robots in government certified and appropriate organizations. You just can’t do it this way. Look at history and see, that brainwashing has never worked before.”
            Margarita walked over to the stairs and started walking up. “She’s got a point,” she said turning around after reaching a few steps behind Cindy’s step. “But this isn’t going according to plan.”
            The 700 laughed. “You think?” he sat down in the chair bolted to the floor and looked Cindy in the eye. A shiver ran up her spine as he continued. “I might as well tell you none of our guns are loaded. And I’m going to have to take you to your word and I need you to do something for me to ensure that you’re not going to spill the beans. Are you up for the challenge.”
            Cindy nodded. “Most assuredly.”
            The robot accepted her answer and called over a member of the guard. The black chrome 500 walked over without so much as a move of recognition to Cindy and bent down as the 700 whispered in its ear, pointing to her on the steps occasionally with a smile.
            “You’re going to wish you didn’t say that,” Margarita whispered behind her.
            “What could he possibly do to me with unloaded guns? He’s got no supplies. The doors over there are locked and we’re in an open room, so he’s got nothing hidden away.”
            “You have no idea,” she said walking past Cindy to lean against the wall at the bottom of the steps. “And I wish I didn’t either.”

To be continued (and concluded)…

Betelgeuse VII: Suspicions

            “Twenty four hours ago I was free as a bird,” she said, toting the cliché ball and chain across the concrete floor. “My only offense was that I was too human.” She sat down with a rusty creak on a lone plastic chair and stared into the video camera.
            “As soon as they got the hang of making robots and could make them at low cost, they started perfecting them. That’s what they do with everything don’t they? Once they’ve got the technique down, they try making it better. So, then models of new robots came out for people to buy for only one or two hundred. They made them sensitive to heat and cold and basic emotions. They figured out how to get them to simulate the language process and speak without a programmed speech. Every model was one-upping the other model another company made. But things started getting really bad when emotions came into play. That was the door separating robots from humans and some idiot had to go find the key. Soon, robots had emotions like fear, hatred, love, jealousy, and frustration. They became less and less perfect and more flawed. Eventually, we were making humans from metal scraps and ethics got involved. The simple strive for perfection went up in political flames and people were quoting everything from the Greek mythology to The Terminator to make their point. Physical and intellectual guns went off in all directions and this bloody “coup d’état” lasted for about a decade. Then, without warning, they boxed up robots like me and started from scratch remaking robots from the first models. Some they shut off, others were hired for small jobs: flipping hamburgers, emptying garbage, and so on. Still others were kept in deliberate hiding until the time came to coup them up in jail for imaginary crimes. That’s what happened to me. If you look at my record it’ll say I’m in here for smuggling drugs, but the only way the established that was after a doctor examination. They never mention why you’re really here but deep down inside you know it’s because you’re a robot. You know it’s because you’re different. And that’s just wrong.”
            The tape flickered out to black and then flashed back to static. Dr. Cindy Lawson rewound the tape and ejected it out of the player. She turned to the teenage boy, Aaron, who had brought this to her and handed it back to him. His long black hair was deliberately placed over his eyes and in one fast motion he brushed his hair to one side and grabbed the tape.
            “You realize the evidence you brought to me,” she said sitting down.
            He nodded, but remained silent. She sighed in frustration and stared into his blue eyes like a cat staring down its prey. He looked up.
            “She doesn’t exist. Her records will not be in the computer as dead or alive. She’s an illegal model. I can’t do anything to get your girlfriend out. Besides,” Cindy said putting the file folder back, “if she’s a robot there’s even less I can do. There are no more laws on robots protecting them from the government. For the future, any marriage or relationship is null according to government standards. If you do succeed in having children, you’ll set the whole world in an uproar, again.”
            Aaron looked at her with a greater ferocity and said coldly: “She’s not a robot.”
            Cindy jerked her head back in surprise, but kept her gaze. “What?”
            “I said: she’s not a robot. She only thinks she is. She’s human. I think they brainwashed her in that ‘doctor visit’ and made her think she was a robot. Besides, there’s no proof that the 700’s even know that they aren’t 100% human.”
            “Do you have any proof that she’s human? Right now, it’s your word against theirs.”
            “Are you in? I’m not going to waste my time if you won’t help me.”
            “Right now, I’m a third uninvolved party.”
            He looked at her skeptically, but continued, whisking his head to the side to get his hair out of his eyes. “I have written and oral accounts of her from school and other stuff. I even managed to steal some of her records out of various filing cabinets from the organizations she was involved in. Even medical records and everything says she was human. Then she disappeared and I get this tape in the mail saying that she’s a robot.”
            “Why did you have her records in the first place?”
            “We were planning on running away to Betelgeuse VII,” he said quietly, “and we needed our records to relocate.”
            Cindy sighed and pulled out a pad of yellow paper. “It’s probably much more complicated than that,” she said, “she probably needed help and just so no one would suspect anything, she put clues in the video.”
            “Exactly,” he said pointing his finger at her emphatically and leaning back in the chair.
            “In which case,” Cindy continued, “she is still human and she knows she is human. What we need to figure out is why she sent this cry for help.”
            “We?”
            She ignored him and pulled out a pen from the pencil cup on her desk. “What sort of organizations was she involved in?”
            He paused and stared at his shoes. “Well, she was a big supporter of the Robot Equality Act of 2029. When people signed petitions to get it changed, she signed just about all of them. If it came to politics, she was always talking about how robots should be treated like people and they should relocate them to other planets and do other exploration advances because some of the older new models never age and they don’t die. She was always seeing things that humans could do and what robots could do. I used to tell her that there weren’t enough jobs for all the people in the world, let alone robots, too, but it was like talking to a brick wall. The only thing we truly disagreed on was that subject. Nothing else is worth noting. Except maybe the supplementary mafia.”
            “Supplementary mafia?”
            “Sorry,” he said laughing a little, “it’s an underground organization that gives a time limit on people’s existence. Basically, the person that has not had a job for six years and does nothing but sit in his parents’ basement all day will have a horrible accident in the next few days if he doesn’t change his ways. They consider it cleaning out the gene pool. Trish joined most likely for people who would be racist, bigoted, or generally rude. It would give her the power to anonymously threaten them. She never killed anyone though, she would only use it as a harmless outlet for her anger.”
            Cindy eyed him cautiously and surreptitiously checked her watch. “Well, we had better get going if we’re going to catch an air bus.”
            He stood up quickly and gave her a frightened look. “Where to?”
            “Betelgeuse VII.”

To be continued…

Seven Red Roses

There will be more later! I just need to add an ending…

            She paused in the dragonfly grove and looked down. There were seven red roses formed among the white and a few were pink in anticipation. She looked around to make sure she was alone with the insects. She paused before reaching down to touch one. Instantly her hand heated up and she felt a wet heat stick to her hands. She suppressed a scream and looked at her fingers. The red blood-like goop had spread down her arm in rapid speed and started climbing up her neck. This time she didn’t suppress the scream and let loose the high-pitched noise before her lungs collapsed and she fell.
            The grove was filled with moving life. Cries and obscenities were shouted in the open space, disregarding the shattering formation of dragonflies. People who knew her wept in fear and others just kept their distance.
            “She’s a demon!”
            Everyone ran to and fro, the strongest fighters tying her up and heaving her out of the garden in standard speed. People clutched at their chests and covered their mouths in shock. Others searched the grove. They couldn’t find anything.
            “Maybe it’s something with the elf,” a fae whispered.
            “Let’s not start a civil war,” another countered.
            They filed out of the garden and hoped that this demon was not still there, waiting for the next person. A guard watched them file out quietly, standing at the entrance to the garden continuing his civil duties to keep the people calm, but something didn’t feel right. He scanned the white roses trying to figure out the cause of the heavy air and quiet oppression. When the last person had left, he followed them out.
            The littlest one waited in the garden for everyone to leave and made sure she was hidden from the guard’s gaze when he scanned the garden. The dragonflies were gone, save one, which was the most unusual shade of red anyone had ever seen.
            She paused to watch it flit in and out of the roses. It landed on the purest white rose, which at its touch became the deepest scarlet and flew off on a small breeze. She gazed at the large petals of the rose in amazement. The dragonfly had landed on another rose and continued to turn this one red. The little girl snuck up behind it and waved her arms to scare the creature away. It jumped with a start and flew to the other end of the garden, red steaming liquid dripping from its abdomen on the concrete patio as it flew off. The floor started to burn and charcoal spread from the red spots like a plague. The little girl ran toward the door of the garden, but found that it had disappeared in a large red brick wall reaching the sky. The flames started to consume the white roses and the trees, slowly making its way towards her. The dragonfly landed on her shoulder and quietly watched the scene from its perch.
            “This is what happens to curiosity,” it said sweetly in the little girl’s ear before floating off her shoulder and leaving a red imprint from its stay. The girl fell unconscious and hit her head against the wall hard. Silver blood mingled with the red liquid as the fire finally reached the wall.
            The first woman turned around to look at the pink smoke coming out of the garden. She smiled and fainted again becoming a dead weight on the people that carried her. The boy carrying her looked back at the garden again following her gaze, but saw nothing wrong with it, save one red rose peeking out through the door. He frowned, but continued onward, glancing warily at the woman’s red skin as they walked. His hands were gloved and covered with a sticky red liquid oozing from her arm. He paused.
            “Since when did we have red roses?” he asked to no one in particular. There was silence as the processional continued. His hands were glued to the woman’s arm so he had no choice but to keep walking toward the city.
            The city had emptied out and those who did not run to Selena’s garden were waiting in the street to be told what had occurred. Gasps shuttered through the crowd as one by one the people of the city laid eyes on the now androgynous girl. The air was morose as the spectators of her rescue whispered rumors of the story. Finally, the now larger procession had reached the healers and left the girl to be healed.
            “Andrew!”
            The boy turned to the person calling his name and smiled. His best friend, Jackson was running towards him as best he could in armor. People watched him annoyed as he ran past disregarding everyone else in the hospital.
            “What do you think happened?” Jackson said quietly. His usual joking disposition was stone cold and Andrew noticed him fingering the hilt of his sword unconsciously as he usually did when he was nervous.
            “I don’t know. Maybe we should ask Father Fuin what he thinks.”
            Jackson shook his head. “I think we should do research on our own.”
            Andrew glanced at the girl they had just carried in. “It doesn’t seem like much of a secret. And he is Goddess Selena’s high priest.”
            Jackson shrugged and started walking out of the temple. “Do whatever you want. Just don’t get yourself killed.”
            Andrew took one last glance at the demon girl before leaving the temple. The city was back to normal again, but a slight stiffness in the presence of the people. Things were going normally, but there were no children playing in the streets and the merchants smiled mechanically when someone walked by. He noticed the guards stationed in street corners and in front of prominent doorways ready at any moment to chase after the demon threatening the town.
            Father Fuin was a tall, dark, ageless man who was always bustling around Goddess Selena’s temple on the far southern edge of the city. It was ornately built and managed as the temple for the city’s goddess. Besides it always being full of people, the temple never moved very quickly and one was inclined to take a step just a little bit slower than you would otherwise. Andrew cautiously walked in, conscience of his grubby appearance, and tried to sneak towards the main alter in the center front of the temple.
            “Come to pray to our Goddess, I see. Youth such as yourself don’t come very often.”
            Andrew turned around, his ears buzzing like he got caught. Father Fuin stood over him smiling and staring over his head at the glowing alter being lit by a single shaft of sunlight from a hole up above.
            “I actually came to speak to you, Father,” Andrew began. Father Fuin looked down at him, the smile gone from his face.
            “Quite,” he said, and started to walk towards a small hidden door in the west wall of the temple. Andrew followed him diligently, but cautiously because he wasn’t quite sure whether he should follow or not. Both of them slipped inside the room and Father Fuin closed the door quietly behind Andrew.
            “I suppose this is about the girl. I heard she was found in the garden.”
            Andrew nodded. “I just want to know what’s going on.”
            Father Fuin nodded and sat down at a very large, dusty desk. “I hesitate to think that it might be the demon, Ba’lalnan. She hasn’t come to this city in years and I don’t think she would take the form of one of our village girls.” His voice drifted off in contemplation and Andrew took a seat on the opposite side of the desk trying to listen to the conversation the man was having with himself. “You do know the story, don’t you?” Father Fuin asked at last, startling Andrew so that he sat up straight on the back of his seat.
            “I’m afraid I don’t.”
            Father Fuin relaxed in his chair and clasped his hands in his lap. “Ba’lalnan was a goddess. In fact, she was the queen of the underworld and wife to Pyrrhus. Although all credit is given to him for ruling the underworld and death, he was a much kinder ruler than she was, and thus she had almost complete power. The story I am referring to is the battle between Selena and Ba’lalnan, or rather between Selena and Azar as that is what her name was as a goddess. She did not become Ba’lalnan until much later. Azar was quite materialistic and often unsatisfied. She could change her form at will, but would often sell herself on street corners as a young girl. It was one night of a full moon that Azar tempted a priest of Goddess Selena’s and they affronted the temple. In her anger, Goddess Selena turned Azar into a vulture and sent her to fly up to the clouds. Azar was angry with Selena for turning her into such an ugly creature and the two goddesses bickered until day. They say the skies were restless with lightning and thunder all night, but no rain fell. When Lord Gawain turned the night into day, Selena and Azar had decided to have a contest. This contest was similar to the ones preformed on Selena’s festival, but of course, with quite the opposite intention. The object was to create the most beautiful creature that could live in two elements. Goddess Selena created a dragonfly and she chose to weave them from the two elements of water and air. Lady Azar created a black swan from the elements water and earth. When they were finished with their creations, they implored Lord Ashton to judge which of the two was the more beautiful creatures. As punishment, Azar was banished from the Gods and Goddesses court and turned into a demon in the permanent form of a red dragonfly. She was allowed to keep her title as queen of the underworld and uses saps of her power to turn various other things into demons. So, if I’m correct, then that poor girl will have to be cleansed and kept alive for Selena’s Festival the following week. Hopefully, we won’t have to kill the poor girl.”
            Andrew looked up at the window and sighed. “I’m going to see what happened tonight, after sun down.”
            Father Fuin smiled, but didn’t show any surprise. “Perhaps you would like this.” He went to a chest on the far end of the room and opened it up with a creak. “Just some leather armor and a sword used in the Battle of the Sun. If Ba’lalnan is there, you will need this.”
            Andrew thanked him and put on the armor and sword. “I hope I can sanctify the garden again,” he said in a final heroic gesture.
            Father Fuin nodded appreciatory and left the small room.
           Midnight arrived and Andrew left his home and ran towards the garden. The roses were all white, save two: a large red one in the middle on one side, and a wilting red one by the door. He stopped carefully to examine the one by the door; its leaves were charred with ash and curled like paralysis. The stem was brittle for when the wind moved it did not stir. Petals blew off it sadly and the pollen in the middle was exposed raw. Something compelled him to reach out and touch it, but he pulled away and sat down in the middle of the garden underneath the moon. The red dragonfly sat on a rose in front of him, iridescent eyes staring.
           “Why have you come to my garden?” it asked malevolently. “You are not one to stumble here accidentally and you are armed.”
           “Unless you are the Goddess Selena,” he countered, “you have no business calling this your garden.”
           “But these are all my subjects,” the dragonfly said. All the roses turned a blood red and the previous red ones glowed orange. “Come my demons.”
           The roses shifted into flame and spread toward the inside of the circle. He stood up with great speed and looked for the dragonfly. “Kill this with a sword,” it screeched.
           “You’re a coward for not coming to me face to face,” he yelled into the flames. He waited for it to come back down to his level for one last boast, praying that the gods would help him win this conquest.
           “Coward or no,” it said, “I am not unintelligent. I know you’ve figured it out.”
           He paused and moved toward a tree, lifting himself up towards the branches. The dragonfly flitted off an upper branch. The red liquid shot down the trunk of the tree like an arrow and he dropped his hold on the trunk and fell down to the ground. The dragonfly sat on the top of the hedge and patiently waited for him. The flames were pushing him toward the bricked in entry way and the dragonfly had strategically placed itself on the opposite end of the garden. He plunged into the flames and swooped down on the insect as it flew to the left to avoid the blow. Breathing hard, he ran into the flames and leapt off the trunk of a burning tree, smashing his blade down on the dragonfly’s abdomen and splitting it in half. There was a great scream as the brick wall in front of the entryway disappeared. He ran towards this opening when a small girl curled up in the corner of the roses, burning brightly caught his eye. As he picked her up, the wound in her head started to bleed and he carefully staunched the bleeding with a gauntleted hand. True flames crackled behind them as he stumbled out of the garden and into the valley before the town.