Back at it again with my annual Pride anthology! This time, the theme is the symbolism of the number 4, since this year is 2024. So tell me, readers, are you ready four it?
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They say the Order of the Ghostslayer is the first, the eldest; however, I know better... A thin smile spread slowly across Silas' pale, aged, wrinkly face. His skin was leathery, and body skeletal, after years—centuries—of dark, twisted work. History is written by the victors, as they say! The Ghostslayers were simply the first to spin an interesting yarn. The Order of the Mutant is where life—and the Blood Hunters—truly originate!
The old man was shrouded in darkness, literally and metaphorically. He was clad in a long, black robe that covered all but his scarlet-eyed face. They glowed, his only source of light as he descended into his laboratory. Once there, he flicked on the single light. His only companion in the small, dimly-lit room was the naked body on the operating table beside him. It was that of a small, young woman, dark skin, wavy brown hair.
Silas' black heels clicked on the white tile floor of his lair as his bony hands slid from baggy, black sleeves. As one of the most powerful and ancient of the Order of the Mutant, Silas played God on every front. In one hand, he held a grimoire. In the other, a science textbook.
Four bases for DNA... Adenine (A), cytosine (C), guanine (G), and thymine (T)... It was painstaking, brain-breaking (sometimes literally) work, but Silas loved it. He had to, or he wouldn't have stuck with it as long as he had.
The eyes of the body on the operating table slowly opened. They were purple. Silas beamed. "She's... alive!"
ooo
"Dun, dun, duh-dun, dun, dun, duh-dun!" Iris hummed to herself, muttering under her breath. "Duh-nah-nah... Duh-nah-nah... Dun-nun!" This was Mission Impossible, and she was the leading lady! The mark on her inner forearm gleamed dully, denoting her as a Ghostslayer.
More like... GhostSAVER! Gods, how she hated this Order! They were nothing but a bunch of judgmental, quick-tempered, biased idiots! They were overzealous in their crusade against the undead. Did they forget that every undead was once a living person, presumably with loved ones?
Not every undead creature was a mindless monster looking for world-domination, but not every living creature gave that nuance the time of day. Iris sighed in frustration. Ah well, that was what she was made for, operating on Grandfather Silas' orders!
Just gotta make a few more raids at the next few villages! She was hijacking the Ghostslayers' magic, using their power to locate the dead, not just to destroy, but potentially to protect. At the very least, we try to find these lost souls peace, not just sending them away the hard way! Sometimes...
Tiny Iris slunk through the crowds of gold robes and white knights. Reverse edge-lords! They're still LARPing, just not in black and silver! Whether they acted as holy and pious agents sent to bring peace and light to the world, or dark antiheroes seeking to purge the world of evil, the Order of the Ghostslayer was full of some of the most extra people Iris had ever seen.
Her taunting observations were interrupted by a voice in her head. Silas! "Attention, Iris, lost soul nearby..."
ooo
A large but scrawny black dog barked. The hesitation in his bark, and his shaking tail—it wasn't wagging—gave away the dog's true feelings: fear. He lowered his curly head, trying to pull back his lips and appear intimidating. All he succeeded in doing was appearing meek and—
"Awww, cute!" A brown hand reached out to the black head. The dog growled, but it was as if the woman could sense his thoughts. He wouldn't bite her. He was scared of her, but he was also scared of confrontation. "Don't worry, lil guy, Great Grandfather Silas sent me!"
Silas! The dog's ears pricked up. A second later, he was gone. Left in his place was a man about five years younger than the woman.
"Princeton, I presume?" she asked, her purple eyes meeting his, almost closing as she smiled. His eyes, though, were a slightly paler shade of purple.
"Y-yeah..." he muttered, dazed. "And you are... Iris...?"
"Yep!" Iris nodded. Pleased that Silas told you about me too! "Well then, shall we head out?" She knew that he was in the Order of the Lycan, though in her opinion, he was more "pretty pupper" than "deadly doggo of death". Though to his credit, Princeton wasn't connected to death the way Iris was, rather, he was tied to darkness. Like the shadows, he was skittish, fleeting. And that was exactly what made him perfect for the job.
If anyone can tunnel me to the underworld, and fast, it's you! Iris thought, grinning.
Oh, I'm literally just here to be a transition, he chuckled weakly in his head. He was to use his shadows to be the bridge she crossed into the afterlife.
Thinking of Silas, Princeton recalled one of their earliest conversations. As was the case with every Gifted, he did not meet the old man until he, himself, was an adult. Then Silas sent one of his other Gifted out as an agent, guiding Princeton to him, and to the story of his Gifted heritage. Princeton was not as impressed as Iris had been when she first met Silas. Instead, he was quick to demand—
"So, did you mess up on my gender, or what?!"
"I can't account for the phenotype out of every single, possible genotype!" Silas shot back, equally indignant. Although he understood the boy's frustration, him being trans was not something Silas did on purpose.
Princeton sighed, melting back into his doggish form. He still didn't like Great Grandfather Silas, but every Gifted worked for him in the end...
ooo
Silas' control continued all the way to his "great, great grandchild", the one he sent Iris and Princeton to retrieve. The person—the entity—that awaited them was... physically difficult to observe and comprehend. It was vaguely humanoid, but ever-shifting, sometimes young and masculine, sometimes older and feminine.
"Order of the Profane Soul!" Iris and Princeton heard Silas hiss in their heads, as dramatic as ever.
"He never misses a chance to be theatric, does he?!" Iris sighed quietly, shaking her head. Despite himself, Princeton snickered.
The figure, meanwhile, observed him and Iris with two heads. Princeton gasped and recoiled, but every time he tried to focus on one head, it suddenly blurred out of existence. In the time it took his eyes to slide to the other head, the blurriness would switch. "Hi, I'm Iris!" Iris greeted the newest member of the party. Either she wasn't bothered, or she was far better at hiding it.
"I'm Jess." It sounded like two voices speaking as one, though the older, feminine one was slightly more prominent. "I made a pact with—"
"Ky." Now the younger, masculine voice was more prominent. Iris gasped in wonder.
"I'm trying something a little different," Silas sounded smug, pleased with himself, as always. "Jess is a mortal human. Ky, the patron, is the Gifted." Silas flashed a vision through Princeton and Iris' heads. Jess looked feminine, about five years younger than Princeton. Then Ky, five years younger than Jess, practically a baby compared to the rest of them.
And KY is the patron...? Princeton thought, the implication settling in his stomach unpleasantly.
"Well then! You three—four—get along! I am still in the process of obtaining intel regarding your first mission, however, I should be ready soon enough... Will you be?"
Iris and Jess seemed to think so, but Princeton wasn't so sure, and Ky's ghostly face was impossible to read.
