Empyrean

Chapter 16

Chapter 16-Serena

Palace above the Palace

Early Afternoon, 6th of Pachon, Year 612

            I wake up to the smell of my own blood and an empty house. I try to get up but either the loss of blood or just plain lack of drive prevents me from doing so. I feel to the left side of my neck and encounter several actually quite expert stitches. I count eight of them. Either that girl should be recruited to be a doctor for the Alexandros, or someone older had come along. I decide that the best thing for me to do at this point is just to lay down right where I am and wait for that crazy little girl to show up again or the person who had stitched me up.

            I wait for what seems like forever and get the vibe that a stranger in this house must be an often occurrence if they didn't even set up a watch for me. An even more so since that child seemed to not trust me at all. After another eternity and no one to satisfy my curiosity with spoken words, I struggle to turn around and look at the bookshelf that lay in the back corner of the one room home. There are hundreds of books all shoved in those shelves and stacked about in seemingly random ways worn and at least a little old. After skimming the titles for a few seconds I find A Manual to the Perfect Soldier. It’s the only book on the shelf I have read and one of the few whose title I can even decipher. There have to be at least ten or so distinct languages just on this one bookshelf; however standard speech is not even the most common language.

            I don't touch anything for fear of being cut open again, but I do see some more interesting things about the home. The walls are made of various cloths and boards of wood. I guess the plastic outside is what keeps it from getting wet on the inside. The house is not quite in the shape of a tent but it is close. There is a rectangular roof eight feet or so above the ground. I honestly have no clue how the walls are staying on and the roof not being torn off. The wind up this high is not so menacing after all.

            I lose my patience and begin to touch things. I touch my index finger to the wall and feel the cold crawl from my finger all the way to my core. I pull back immediately and forcefully. It is only now that I find the house has an apparent very effective homeostasis.

            There is no way a Zenith built this! I think. But then I remember Mentor. I remember how when I first saw him what I thought and then what I found him to actually be. I remember all of the books on the shelf that I can’t and probably will never be able to read.

            It is only now that I realize that Mentor was right. That little girl had very little trouble getting me into a position that she could kill me in. It was all so fast! She couldn't have been more than twelve years old. She could also read, now that I think about it! Who is this person? It was obvious, no matter how strong the Zenith are, that she had had special training of some sort. The way she slit my throat… It blacked me out but nothing else; I am not dead.

            A silhouette interrupts my thoughts. I can see it coming to the front of the house from the left side. I can tell it is a man by the stature, but nothing else about the dark shape is defined. I silence myself and attempt to listen to the shadow’s footsteps in the light morning drizzle, but the sound is either too quiet or non-existent. He moves like a ghost sliding just above the ground moving slowly forward to his goal. When he is in front of the door I can feel his aura seeping through, coating me in a blanket of dread. I don't know if I would have felt it if I had not seen him coming, but I think I would have. He uses both hands to part the film of a door and steps in dry as a dead tortoise shell from the stories.