Revolutionary

Chapter 4

He couldn't sleep the rest of the night, because his dream had shaken him. Could he even call it a dream? It had felt far too real to be a dream, but Karlysle had heard about dreams and nightmares that seemed real but weren't before, they called it vivid and lucid dreaming. This didn't seem like either of them to him, but with his limited knowledge of what it may be, he was forced to accept, for now, that what he had experienced while he was unconscious was just an extremely vivid and lucid dream.

When the sun finally rose, he had gotten no closer to any answers that he wanted than he was when he began. Lolita would have figured out what the answer was by now. She was always extremely smart even if she downplayed it and made herself seem dumb sometimes.

Sliding out of bed, the raven-haired teen went through his morning routine mechanically. He was spaced out the entire time until he was sitting down at the kitchen table with breakfast in front of him, a voice floating to his ears and finally being registered.

"...lysle? Are you listening?" His mother questioned, a concerned look covering her face when she realized that her son wasn't mentally with them at the table. "Are you alright, sweetheart? Did you get enough sleep?" Her fork was paused halfway to the pancakes she had made for them, waiting for an answer. Some answer. Any answer, just so she'd know if her baby boy was okay.

"No, sorry. I'm just thinking about my Test," he lied, flashing her a small, tired smile. Karlysle wasn't going to try and say that he had never lied to his parents before, because he has. Everyone lies, it's just a matter of how often you do it and for what reasons. His parents didn't need to know about the strange dream-that-wasn't-a-dream yet, or at all. "I got some sleep." He left the statement at that, knowing that a half-truth had to be better than any kind of lie.

She gave him a smile back, one that was still slightly tinged with concern, but it seemed as if she and his father, who was silently observing, had bought the excuses. After all, the Test was the biggest event in anyone's life, considering that it dictated how the rest of your life would go, so it was only natural to be thinking about it a lot.

The rest of their morning was spent finishing breakfast and helping him pack his things. Whoever the government sent to get him would be arriving at noon, so they hurried, keeping the conversations light as they worked so they wouldn't get distracted. More than once he saw his parents cast watery glances at him, but they never let the tears fall.

Eventually, noon came and a loud noise sounded three times on their front door. Knock. Knock. Knock.

He guessed it was a man, judging by how heavy and hard it sounded.

The two adults froze, unable to accept that their youngest child was finally leaving the house to go be productive in society somewhere else. They'd still get visits and such, but it wouldn't be the same as getting to see their son everyday.

Seeing that his parents wouldn't be moving from their spots in the next minute or so, the 18-year-old went to the door and opened it.

And, as soon as he did, he froze as well. Standing in front of him was indeed a man, but that's not why he too had frozen up.

The man was Mustache Man from his dream.

He only unfroze and reacted at all when he felt his father's hand rest on his shoulder from behind him. "I apologize, come in," he murmured, stepping aside. Mustache Man waved his hand and in came two other government workers (servants, by the look of it.) They went to his room and grabbed his bags and other things that had been packed, taking them out to the car.

"You have a minute to say goodbye and then we're leaving," Mustache Man announced gruffly before turning and walking back to the car.

Karlysle spun around to face his parents, getting pulled into a tight family hug the second he was fully facing them. They stood there silently for a few seconds before his mother pulled away first.

She put her hands on her son's cheeks, smiling sadly at him. "Your father and I will always love you, sweetheart, no matter what." She stood on her tip-toes and pressed a kissed to his forehead, wiping furiously at her eyes with the sleeve of her cardigan as she sniffled.

His father just clapped a hand onto his shoulder and smiled as well. "She's right. We have no doubts that you'll do your job well, son." He let his hand drop back down to his side for a few seconds before he undid the clasp on a metal bracelet he never took off, pressing it into Karlysle's palm just as Mustache Man called out for him to come to the car.

He closes his fingers around the bracelet and turns, heading out to where the car sat. The 18-year-old stopped and looked behind him for a second, seeing his parents standing together with each other in their arms, tears pouring down their faces. He waved to them and they waved back, his heart racing as he's guided into the car.

"Why did that goodbye feel so final?" He thinks to himself, a frown on his face as he looks down at the bracelet in his right hand. It wasn't too thick wide or height-wise, but it had some words in a foreign language engraved on it. In the very center was an image that looked to Karlysle like tendrils of magic but might be seen as wisps of air as well. He fastened it onto his wrist, not wanting to accidentally drop it before he got the chance to.

Mustache Man drove silently in the front seat, observing the boy. He didn't seem like the other kids they had considered for the role of President. There was something about the boy that didn't settle with the older man, but he had no idea what.

Karlysle lifted his eyes to meet the other's when he felt a gaze burning into him. His heartbeat, which had started to settle down into a normal rhythm, sped up again. For some reason, he didn't feel like this man's lasting gaze was friendly.

He shall be our doom, whispered an echo of the Mustache Man's voice from his dream.

He broke the eye contact and sucked in a sharp breath, casting his gaze to the scenery passing by. Something definitely isn't right, and he would have to be careful or this rebellion wouldn't kill just strangers, it would kill him too.

You'll be your own doom, a new voice whispered in his head, a shrill, cold laughter following it. The metal of his bracelet grew burning hot for a second, causing him to yelp as he tried to take it off. It stayed fastened despite his best efforts, and he was getting strange looks from the other occupants of the car. When he pulled up his wrist a little, away from where it was sitting previously, there were no burn marks. What the hell?

"Ring around the rosy,

pocket pull of posy,

ashes, ashes,

you will fall down,"

the same voice from before, which now sounded like a little girl, sang it in his head, laughing loudly once more. Every time she spoke, the bracelet warmed up.

How will you fall?