The Ouroboros Cycle

Step 001/03

BEFORE

— - —

The doors to the infirmary crashed open, and Aaron's security detail poured into the hallway. Behind them came the Overseer, in a full on sprint towards the single illuminated room on the floor. His guards flanked the door, and he ran in, only stopping once inside to catch his breath.

There were two other people standing in the room, and one laying on a bed attached to several life-giving machines. The Blackbird and Green were standing next to the bed, upon which was Sophia, the Nazarene. Seeing her, Aaron stumbled over towards the bed. He placed an uncertain palm on her forehead. Her breath was shallow.

"What happened?" he asked, his voice ragged. "What happened to her?"

The Blackbird's face was sad, but Green appeared slightly annoyed. "You know what happened to her, Aaron," she said. "She was hung up with silk nails. She's cursed. This is what happens to people who are cursed."

Aaron shook his head. He knew the truth of what she was saying, but he had not believed it would come so quickly. He remembered the first night they had spent together, when she had told him what she was capable of. Dancing through time, she had called it. He had laughed. Then one day she disappeared, and when she returned her wrists were punched through with dark iron nails and her side had been skewered. He had not laughed then.

The nails, though. Felix had known what they were. Something old and dangerous. He had warned about them then - warned about what would happen to her blood. The Fountain could protect them from sickness, but-

Curses? he had said. No, unfortunately not. Curses are an unnatural thing. That is a wound I cannot clean out.

But she had persisted. Her work continued, and the projects she managed flourished, but she would have bouts of weakness and agony that would last for days, then weeks. The last one had stretched on for three months. Felix had tended to her using the treatments the Blackbird had recommended, but it had become evident that her condition was worsening.

“You said that you could prevent this,” Aaron snarled at the Blackbird. “You said your magicwould keep this from happening.”

The Blackbird held up his hands. “I made no such promises. I said I could delay the inevitable, but this is the inevitable, Mr. Siegel. She is fortunate to have lasted this long. Those nails were not designed for someone who survived a crucifixion.”

Aaron turned back to her. He felt heat building in his face, something sharp and broken festering in his gut. Sophia’s skin had begun to darken, first along her arms and now creeping up to her chest. Mottled black and grey, like frostbite. They had wrapped them in bandages to keep the seeping down, but the bandages had soaked through.

“How much longer?” he asked.

The Blackbird sighed. “Days, maybe. Hours, more likely.”

Aaron didn’t react. The room was stuffy and still, the only sound was the clicking and beeping of the machines, the soft rush of air with every assisted breath, and the ticking of a clock on the wall.

“I would be remiss,” the Blackbird said, “if I did not remind you that our previously discussed arrangement could prevent this.”