Time

Prologue 16

Knowlridge drank some water. It was very hot here, but he and Neter were getting along fine. They weren't very far from Desrodon and the path was easy for the horses. Travis' donkey was trailing behind, burdened by their things. Knowlridge was sure that Travis would be fine. He could handle himself. Knowlridge wasn't sure that he himself would be fine, though. His boss would probably kill him for allowing Travis to leave him. Eh, he thought, it could be worse.

In the meantime as Travis came back, Neter was fine companionship. He was funny. He made jokes about the weather and the sand. He wasn't depressing like Travis was. Well, Travis had an excuse. He had been adopted by Death, after all. He was more serious, though. Neter was loyal, kind, and funny... but Travis had a deeper understanding. Strange... Knowlridge almost thought of something, but the realization slipped his mind. Neter and Travis reminded him of two people... he couldn't place his mind in the right place.

Knowlridge saw something peeking over a sand dune, and realized it was a spire. Desrodon had four of the black spears around its city. They were things of legend. Nobody knew who had built them, as they had been here long before settlers came into the region. There were supposed to be small, intricate symbols etched around each spire, a message. Some scribes had figured out some of the messages that weren't written in the ancient script, messages that told of the spires being opened in the winter and the summer and of ancient beings escaping. The ancient beings were told to have the secrets of the sun and moon, the third star and the so-called "fourth star." Everyone knew of the sun, moon, and third star. The "fourth star" however, couldn't exist. It had never been seen. Neter whistled and Knowlridge glanced over his shoulder. Neter was gazing at the spires in awe. Knowlridge smiled and chuckled under his breath. Everyone in Desrodon thought of the spires as everyday life. Knowlridge shuddered. He had just remembered of the rituals. He'd have to protect Neter and Travis.

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Sherll pounded on the piece of metal with all her force. She put all her rage into the hammering and kept at the process with every fiber of her being. The lump of steel became a flat sheet, which Sherll picked up and put onto the wall, covering up the dent. A laser shot from her red eye and welded the metal to the wall. She took out a file and got rid of the leftover ridge. She turned away and saw her Mother's body. She felt more rage inside her and looked away, heading out of the room.

In her room, she went to her computer and turned it on. The screen blinked to life, and she saw all her files. She opened the one labeled "Log" and opened up a new entry. She tapped away at her keyboard, seeing the words "covered up the dents today" appear on the screen. She closed the log and shut off her computer. Sherll felt her stomach rumble and she got up, going to a cabinet and searching inside. She found a box labeled "anti-depressants" and opened it up, finding dozens of pills. She took one and tossed it into her mouth, tasting the sourness as she swallowed. She replaced the box and took out a small, plastic container. She opened it and took out a few of the small, brown cubes. Placing them on a plate, Sherll put the box back and picked up the plate. She sat down on her small bed and ate the cubes, tasting chicken and potatoes. After she finished, she tossed the paper plate into the trash. She lay down on her bed and sighed. She closed her eyes and covered herself with her blanket, mentally turning off the light. Finally, she tried to get some sleep.

All she got was rage-filled dreams.

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Death swung down his scythe. A dozen of tiny souls rose up from the mob and dissipated into the air. The rest of the mob ignored the dead bodies that had been stoned to death and continued to yell at the giant building in front of them, as if trying to scold it. Death snapped his fingers and he was now in a different place. He was in a clearing of the woods, alone. Alone with a dying body of a hunter. Alone with the dying body of a hunter that had a wolf above him, panting and whining in sadness. Death walked towards the body, bringing up his scythe. When he swung it down, he saw the hunter's bright soul rise up into the air. The wolf seemed to know this and ran out into the woods, knowing that its friend was dead. Death knew not of what story the two had with each other, but he knew the two were friends. He snapped his bony fingers once more and was back at his home. Hugo came up and asked if he would want his dinner soon and Death answered no. He hadn't been wanting of food for universes. Death went to his office and sat in his chair, closing his eyes. He liked to take naps like this. It reminded him of the past, the blissful silence and rest. It wasn't that he disliked his job; it was just that the Duty had a lot of responsibility attacked to it. Responsibility could run you down.

Of course, bulls could too. Death scowled at the distraction and went back to his nap.