[Hidden Away. . .]
"We ask for you blessings, Lady of the Withering Flower. Emulsify us in knowledge. Bathe us in alacrity. Immerse us in Solace. You enlighten us, and so we become the light."
"You enlighten us, and so we become the light." [Hidden Away. . .]
Hundreds of thousands of people knelt. Hands clasped. Fingers painted. White robes with elegantly embedded flowers adorned.
Despite being deep within the crust of the earth, sunlight broke through. Petals flourished and hung in every corner. Varicolored stalactites lolled gracefully.
Mirielis Adeliz moved through a curtain and feasted her eyes on a prosperous society. Believers moved with purpose. Some worked in small shops and sold necessities. Others helped varnish the underground canyon. And in the highest peak, above all else, lay a mesmerizing chapel.
She removed her previous drab cloak and wore the same white robe as the prostrators. Hers had a unique blue flower across the abdomen. Blossoms expanded around her chest and shoulders and wrapped around each leg.
Her makeup changed. Now: flowery. Pink trailed along her eyebrows. Red blushed her cheeks.
She found a commonfolk sanctuary and asked, "Are praying times still available?"
A man working at a stand replied quaintly, "Certainly! Find your inner peace, follower of Solace! Pray, pray, and pray some more! Laud the Shamanka!"
Mirielis watched people like her floor and utter. They prayed. I must hasten, those Generals of immense beauty are awaiting me!
She invoked, "Lady of the Withering Flower. I ask for your guidance. I ask for your wisdom. Heal my pain. Rejuvenate my body."
Murmurs. Rustles. Sounds of pain and agony reverberated rampantly. Souls of the damned incarnate yelled,
"In-finity. . . . Contrivance. . . is. . . infinity. . . Contrivance. . . is. . . infinity. . ."
Mirielis added after a wince, "Verily, I am aware. While my worship belongs to the Shamanka and her Palmists, the true Almighty is Contrivance."
Her body glowed a faint hue of green. She grinned and said, "Laud the Shamanka."
. . . .
[Maylor Precinct. . .]
"Rejoice, for I have returned!" Alanus and Lluvia heard the familiar voice.
It was the next day. Following an earful from Alvaron Saint regarding Mirielis's abrupt temporary leave, the two Generals were finally going to visit the boy attacked by the Firio..
Yesterday, Alanus had sensed a hint of Tyrant shadowing the woman but ultimately decided not to pursue it further. They needed to find out more about Contrivance—it had priority above all.
If Mirielis could help, they'd take it.
"His name is Emory Vaughan, and he lives at 34 Hind Street in North Precinct. The run-in with the Firio was two days ago. His father says he's been getting nightmares for the past two nights," Alanus read, scanning the paper. "And they've evolved from just sleep into actual hallucinations."
"Emory Vaughan. . . Splendid name," Mirielis echoed. She wore a dull cloak and anomalous makeup. "Let's head there this instant! No time to waste, young lambs."
The trio passed through Maylor Precinct and headed north.
Lluvia meandered and wondered, We'll finally have a clue on what Contrivance is.
. . . .
[North Precinct, 34 Hind Street. . .]
Emory Vaughan sat on the couch, staring through a window and waiting. Waiting for the answer to his recurring nightmares. Waiting for the answer to the mysterious voice that spoke to him.
Is Simonis alright?
He hadn't seen her since the day the siren rang. The moment he got back, Charles reprimanded him and sent him to time-out. However, Charles's anger dissipated the moment Emory cried in his sleep.
That was just the beginning. The mysterious voice never truly returned, but its remnants haunted Emory. His dreams consisted of him stuck in a dark realm, surrounded by what looked like dying bodies.
The bodies weren't normal. When Emory first touched one of them, they moved. Spasmed. Then they laughed, cackling without end.
The bodies weren't normal. When Emory first touched one, it moved, spasmed, then laughed. Cackling without end. Soon, the bodies would all laugh and run toward him, gnawing at his limbs and tearing them apart. Worst of all, the dreams evolved into waking hallucinations.
Outside, even while the sun radiantly sparkled, Emory saw multiple laughing corpses. If this were his first time, his eyes would have constricted as he cried for Charles. Now, he was somewhat used to it. Numb at the pain. I just want this to end. Please.
"Emory," Charles called from his bedroom. "Come here please."
The young boy pushed himself off the couch and jogged to his father's bedroom, dodging the laughing corpses on his way. "Yes, Papa."
Inside the beige-walled, flaky-painted room, Emory knocked on the door. "What's wrong?" Charles settled on the edge of the mattress and beckoned. "The Military will arrive today. Are you ready for them?"
Emory bobbed his head. "Yes, Papa. I'm ready for them."
Charles rubbed the boy's head. "Remember, if you feel unsafe at any point, tell me, and we'll stop. Your safety is my number one priority. It's above everything else, understand?"
"Yes, Papa."
"I'm glad." Charles put his hand on the boy's shoulder. "Don't forget, Emory, I'm never mad at you. Not about leaving the house that day. Not about holding back what happened. Not ever. I love you, my son. As you grow, it's harder to be as open with your old man. But please, don't do anything that will harm your wellbeing. Alright?"
"Yes, Papa."
Knock! Knock! Knock!
"They're here."
The two left the room and composed themselves. Beyond the doorway stood three adults. One, a large male, wore a yellow cape. His sun-colored hair was parted down the middle, and his oceanic eyes glinted. Emory instantly liked his look.
The female beside him glanced at the male often. Emory wondered if she had a crush on him. She reminded him of Simonis, except she had sleek black hair and a powerful presence.
The final woman wore a black and gray robe and had a mischievous smirk. "Salutations, Emory Vaughan!" Her voice was too loud.
The man took over. "I'm General Alanus Diogenes of the Houtis Land Military. With me is General Lluvia Gallitusio"—he gestured to the clingy woman—"and the Psychologist, Mirielis Adeliz." He pointed at the cloaked woman.
Charles shook his hand, the difference between their auras clear as day. "Charles Vaughan. Thanks for coming so quickly."
Mirielis wasted no time. She grabbed Emory's hand and pulled him closer. "Let's commence!"
Alanus and Lluvia moved Charles aside and explained the situation in a tone Emory couldn't hear. Mirielis held onto both his wrists and said, "Of what have your nightmares consisted?"
Emory tilted his head at her strange way of speaking. "Uh. . . I see dead people."
"Dead people?"
"Yeah. When I touch them, they move. Not like actual dead people—those guys are supposed to never move, you know. But these ones. . . they get up and start. . . laughing."
"Laughing?!" Mirielis bellowed. "What a fascinating turn of events!" She called Alanus, Lluvia, and Charles over. "This young lamb witnesses the dead arise and chortle!"
"Chortling?" Alanus said. "Interesting. Find out more, Mirielis."
Mirielis made an 'okay' sign with her thin fingers and took Emory to a secluded place. "Listen, cute lamb, you're going to fall into a slumber now."
"Slumber?"
"Sleep."
"Okay. . ."
"And when you do, I'll try to figure out more about what the Military is interested in. No need to fret; there won't be any pain."
"Alright." Emory lay on his back and closed his eyes.
Mirielis's voice spoke quietly. "Lady of the Wither. Light of the Moon. Ailing healer. Grace me with your power. Allow me to learn more about this boy, this Emory."
It became harder and harder for Emory to stay awake.
"Sleep, little one. Sleep."
And so he fell.
. . . .
Dark.
That was the only thing Emory could describe this realm as: a darkness spanning great distances.
Is this. . . a dream? A lucid dream? Emory, with a clear mind, deduced this wasn't an ordinary dream. There were clear abnormalities.
He was naked, cold, and alone. His arms stretched wide, trying to find something to latch onto. Nothing. Soreness ached in his bones and muscles.
"Hello?" No one answered.
"Am I really alone?" Gusts of wind pierced his body, causing him to shiver. "Ms. Mirielis Adeliz? Papa?" He started walking. Something hit his leg. "Ah!"
Emory squinted, wishing for the miracle of clear sight. "What is it? Who is it? Speak, please!" He grew impatient. When will I wake up?
Flicker!
A spark of light beamed above him, illuminating the next few kilometers. He stood on a sandy plane beneath a night sky that lacked clouds and stars. The thing he had hit earlier, on closer inspection, was. . .
"A person?!"
Emory analyzed the body: Inanimate. Foul stench. Decaying skin. Oh dear. It's dead. Unable to resist, he knelt and touched it.
Mush!
Its insides squished with ease, and his touch seemed to ignite something within the corpse. It got up, slowly, and met the boy face-to-face.
"Heh."
". . ?"
"Heh. Heh."
". . ."
"Hahahahahhaahhahahahahahahaha!"
The corpse guffawed helplessly. It rubbed its stomach and fell flat on its rear. The laughter didn't stop; instead, it grew louder. Emory's eyes constricted. His hand shook, every bone in his body screaming at him to run.
But he could not. The corpse got up, held onto his shoulders, and cackled in his ear. Stop! Let go of me! Too weak against a grown body, Emory's struggle was pointless.
He was pushed to the ground. The corpse didn't stop snorting. It slid its disgusting hand up Emory's body and choked his neck.
Oh no, I'm going to die! Agh! Urgh!
Suffocation felt horrible, like all the life in him slowly itching away. Coldness caught up, and he lay there, too weak to flail.
Is this how it's going to end? My life?
He did not die. Instead, the corpse was flung meters away by an unknown force. Incapable of keeping up, Emory just managed to lift himself off the ground.
The flickering light was much more helpful. He looked around. With sudden movement, the sand around him shook. Emory's body bobbed uncontrollably, like he was in a pot of boiling water.
That was not all. Craters formed all around him, then changed into a weird shape:
Mouths.
The sand-mouths sneered and erupted in laughter.
It was too preposterous for the young boy to fathom. He fell on his back, the laughter ringing in his ears.
"I want to die."
". . ."
"Then die, my friend."