Death To Thora - COMPLETE SHORT STORY

Eight

"So, are you finally going to tell me what the hell is going on?"

Calix sits across from me, the morning light pouring in and lighting up half of his skull. His hands flex around the coffee mug. "Would you believe me if I did?"

"Well, considering the night I've just had, I think I'll believe just about anything." I haven't stopped shivering since I woke up this morning, courtesy of getting electrocuted.

His jaw tenses. "Where would you like me to start?" The politeness in his tone is an odd contrast to his typical nonchalant behavior.

I think for a moment. "Tell me about the stone." It's a weird place to start, considering everything surrounding that circumstance, but it somehow seems like it will be the simplest answer of the day.

"The stone... The stone harnesses energy that is siphoned into it, and in return, can also distribute said energy."

I stare at him, with no more clarity than before he answered.

He looks to the ceiling and bites his lip in thought. "In those kinds of rituals, they use it to transfer power to an untapped source."

"Like... Magic? Am I like a witch or something?"

He rests his head in his palm, clearly exhausted. "No, you're not a witch. Every human has untapped energy here, it starts when you cross that border and enter Aderith."

I study the air bubbles that protrude from the top of my latte. "Why would they try to use that stone on me?"

"Stay here long enough, and they try to use it on every newcomer. They'll either siphon your energy into it, or unlock your ability to access it."

"So do I have that...Energy now? Since I grabbed the stone?"

He shakes his head. "No. I got you away from it before it could take hold."

I knit my eyebrows. "Why? Why wouldn't you want me to access it?"

His eyes meet mine. "Because there's always a chance that it could kill you. Even if you survived– there's a cost to power like that. My parents are dead because of that power."

I don't look away. "Do you have power like that?"

He looks at his scarred hands, offering them for me to observe. "Almost everyone in Aderith has that kind of power."

I trace my fingers across the burn scars on his massive hands. "So this...Is from the stone?"

A pain flashes across his face. "Some of it is. Some of it's from using that power. Same with these dark markings all over me."

"Your tattoos?"

He shakes his head. "They aren't tattoos."

When I look closer, I realize that he's right. They are a stretch of markings and shapes curling up his arms, but there is something void in the dark ink. "Why aren't they scarred like your hands?"

"Because scarring of the soul appears differently than scarring of the flesh. When you unleash power, it costs you both."

"Oh."

He nods. "Yeah. I'm just glad it didn't get to you."

"I have another question."

"Shoot."

I lean forward. "Explain the things in robes. What do they do and why do they do it?"

He takes a drink from his mug. "I don't know what to call them, either. I don't know where they come from, just that they've always been here, since I can remember. They perform that ritual, the one with the stone, to sate the hunger of whatever devil lives underneath this god-forsaken town to keep it sleeping."