No One's Warrior

Chapter One

Atum's arms do nothing to comfort me as I had hoped. His body radiates heat, keeping me warm, and protecting me from the chill of the room, but even so, there's nothing he can do to protect me from the disturbingly entrancing thoughts that swim around in my head. They make me restless to the point where I feel I need to get up and pace, and yet I can't seem to move a muscle. I know that if I had, I would wake Atum, and I cannot do so. Fatigue has shown clear on his face, and this rest is well past needed. And even in slumber, if I make a single movement he will snap awake in an instant. That's just how he is. Besides, I'd rather be settled in next to him on this bed than alone somewhere else with no one to keep the nightmares away.
After finding Bo's note, we both agreed to get some rest before we troubled our minds about it again. I hadn't planned on sleeping because I knew I wouldn't be able to, but I couldn't oppose to the worry in Atum's eyes. Plus, I knew he needed sleep, otherwise we would be working away at a plan. I suppose my body craves it too, but my mind just won't shut off. It never does.
Atum stirs next to me, unconsciously tightening his arm around me and ruffling the blanket that lays atop us. I feel somewhat consoled by the tightness of his embrace, but that's quickly muffled by a bombarding thought of our future.
Just thinking about Bo enrages me. I can't even begin to think how I'll react when I see him. I'm not one who keeps their emotions bottled up, that's Atum, and neither of us can control our anger around this snake. He brings out the worst in us. And the sickening part is, he enjoys it. But, I guess I can't expect better from someone like him. From his burning blue eyes to his hideous smirk, he's all evil. And I can't help but feel that I'm the cause to that. I made Bo turn into this monster. I'm responsible for it. All because I didn't return his feelings.
I bite my lip to keep from hurling when I think of that. My teeth are sharper than I remember, and they draw a thin line of blood that trickles down my chin, dripping onto the white pillow underneath my head. I've come to terms with the change that seems to be happening to me, so I don't gag when I see the odd color of the staining blood. It used to be white as the moon, and now it's a strange dark pink. A mixture of moon and human blood I suppose.
My eyes linger on the pool of liquid longer than I wish, unable to fathom that it came from me. Just like with so many other things, I've accepted it but I don't agree with it. I hate thinking that this one speck of my own blood can make me hate myself so much. I hate that I'm not strong enough to stop this mutation that goes out of control. And I hate that I can't get a moment of happiness without it being ruined by some tragedy.
My fist collides with the pillow at that last thought, hitting harder than I intended. I let it sit on the soft surface for a minute, focusing on the warm liquid that splashes around my knuckles, painting my joints with it's nauseating color. I pull my hand away before Atum jolts awake from my sudden movement, wiping away the blood on the corner of my blanket. Luckily, it's not white so the color won't show as much, and hopefully he will not notice. He's already so busy with things, I'd hate to burden him with another problem. Especially this one. I'd get my hopes up that he could fix it, only to have them crushed by the realization that he cannot. No one can.
This is one problem no one can fix.
It's happening whether I like it or not.
I might loathe that thought, but I can't help it that it's true.
My hair shifts as I move, grazing my chin and threatening to fall on to my shoulder, but I swat it back before it can. I won't be able to stand yet another reminder that I'm turning human.
Thinking all of this, I feel even more fatigued but it's not enough to make my eyelids drift closed.
Nothing will be.
I've pretty much lost the ability to turn my thoughts off ever now. It won't happen until Bo and Theia are resting five feet under. Until then, I lie awake, mulling over plans for my freedom. I vowed that I would never again be caged but my promise has been broken. I'm prisoner of my own mind. Only this a cage I can't find a key for. The only way of escape is murder. Once again, I find myself grateful that my ruthlessness has not been shed like other traits. I'm sure that one day, once I'm human, I will have a heart again and I won't be able to behead someone without feeling grief and regret. But now... now I don't feel any sorrow for them, and this is one thing that will have to be pried out of my cold dead hands, because I will not give it up.
They deserve to die.
* * *
My feet shuffle against the floor, unnaturally loud in the emptiness of the hallway. The sound fascinates me as I glide down the corridor, with no destination in sight. I barely shimmied out of Atum's grasp without him waking, for which I'm thankful. He needs his sleep about as much as I needed this walk. This slow, meaningless stroll.
It's less helpful than I thought, but at least I can breathe easily now. It was getting suffocating lying there, making it hard for me to focus on anything except my pounding heart and unsettling thoughts. On some level, I suppose I hoped I could run away from my problems, but that's proven to be the farthest from true. If anything, I'm walking further into them. Silence fills the air, hanging so low I can feels the weight of it rest upon my shoulders. It's hardly noticeable when I already have so much on my mind that I can barely focus on not tripping over my own feet. The further I walk down the hall, the less I feel. I can't hear the thrum of the electricity that runs like veins around here, or even my own footsteps, though I know they're echoing off the hollow walls.
No.
The only thing I can hear is my mind.
And in the very back of it, a voice that calls out for my attention. I recognize it all too well.
My hand drags across my face, smearing a bit of my blood across my chin, but I hardly notice.
I just want a second to breathe.
To get away from all this.
I thought Atum's embrace could stop the world from spinning but it did the opposite. There is no comfort left for me anymore.
I've become everything that I've hoped I would not. I'm working with the devil. And willingly.
Though, I would consider Bo to be more of an apprentice of the devil rather than Lucifer. That's right. Theia is the demon sent from hell. Not Bo. Maybe things would be easier if I could just forgive and forget, but how can I when they've wronged me so? They don't deserve my forgiveness. I shouldn't feel bad about that. If given the chance, I'm sure they'd do it again. Gladly so.
I walk faster, as if I can leave all my issues behind, but they follow me like lost puppies. The sounds of the rise and fall of my feet become louder as I rush through the hall, turning corners without any account of where I'm going. They force their way into my ears, stinging like a thousand knives slashing their way through my cartilage to my brain where they set up camp. I wish I could describe this, but the best I can do is insanity. I think I'm finally past sane, with no hope of going back. The fact that I don't know what caused it is the worst part. Bo and Theia are obviously factors, and I hate giving them the satisfaction of turning me into this freak.
I stop when I feel the hard metal beneath my outstretched hand. I hadn't even realized I was reaching out for something to save me, but I guess I had. As if I'm not in enough despair, the sight of my own blood on my hand makes me gag.
And even worse, a cool breeze whistles in through the window above my head, stirring my hair around my shoulders. My dark locks stroke my neck, tempting neck to cut them off, but I don't. I would, but something else has caught my attention.
That something being the moon hanging low in the sky, almost as if it's touching the horizon. It's a full moon, like always. It might be odd to the humans that live around, but I know the purpose behind it. Theia isn't just a snake, but she's also arrogant. She wouldn't hesitate to show off her true power to the citizens just by showing her entire surface.
I know it's foolish to be focusing on something so silly when I should be running away from her before she creeps into my mind, but I can't help but feel mesmerized at how differently she looks to me now. I've seen her a select few times since I've turned from her, but never have I paid this much attention.
Her planes seems darker than before.
Cresta...
No. No. No.
I need to get away from her, I know I do, but my body refuses to respond. I freeze in place, subject to her painful whispers. My muscles tense, awaiting her next hushed words, but they never come. I thought she couldn't get in my head anymore but I guess I was wrong on some level. Though, I know that if she is capable of getting to me, then she would've did more than just mumble my name. It must take a lot of power to do this now that I've escaped her.
I wish that last sentence true, however I know I'll never truly be free from her.
"Lady Cresta?"
I jump about a foot in the air at unexpected voice, smacking my shoulder against the wall so hard that I should feel pain. Although, I feel none. I'm numb from head to toe, and shocked by what just occurred.
I realize I shouldn't be surprised, considering Theia's power, but I am. I was not expecting to interact with her tonight, however I was in for a dreadful surprise. Of all the the things, I'm thankful for this interruption. Or at least I am until I see who spoke.
I cock an eyebrow, fixing my composure to make it seem as if I wasn't just in the middle of a downward spiral into insanity. I can't imagine how creepily calm I look right now. Though, it's nothing compared to how skeptical this Xera warrior is. His knowing look informs me that he's been standing there longer than I'd wish. Yet, he doesn't look judgmental in the least. If anything, he's almost... concerned. I can't help but have a little suspicion of my own at that. I don't exactly get along with his people, he should have no remorse for me.
"Is that what you're calling me now?" I mutter, dusting off the shoulder that impacted with the wall. Of course, there's no lint or anything on me, I just need something to do with my hands, if only to avoid awkward eye contact.
"I follow my orders." He simply replies, shrugging as if we were old friends and not enemies. As if I hadn't tried to kill him numerous times before.
Suddenly I feel guilty that I haven't even learned his name.
Can't these guys have name tags or something?
"Right."
An uncomfortable silence follows my words, but it seems as though I'm the only one who feels it's effects. The warrior standing across from me looks anything but anxious to get out of here. I'd even go as far to say he looks serene. Odd, considering our awkward meeting.
"Well, if you're alright then I better get back to work. The Allas won't find itself," he chuckles at his own joke, making it hard not to join him. My throat feels unnaturally dry when I force a laugh of my own. "Before I leave you, I must tell that in all the years I've been with Atum, I've never seen him as happy as he is with you. And I've been by his side for quite a while. Of course, that doesn't include the times when I was caught between life and death."
I cringe at the last part, knowing that he's hinting at my previous ruthless ways of demoting them into corpses. I said before that I would never feel regret for killing who I have, but right now in this moment, with one of my former victims talking to me as though we were strangers, I feel a slight twinge of the emotion. I know enough to be aware that it isn't my human side doing the talking. It's just me.
My eyes fly up his golden yellow ones, searching for some sort of sarcasm or hostility, but I find none.
He was simply making a joke.
About his own death.
When did things get so confusing?
Oh right.
When my life fell apart.
"Ah, well. I better be on my way. Farewell Lady Cresta. If you need anything, I am Marcius. Just call my name. Any friend of Atum's is a friend of mine." He sends me a gentle smile before pivoting on his heel and turning down the hall.
I don't know what makes me do it, but I find myself calling out to this strange man, stopping him before he can go.
"Marcius," I shout, making sure to keep my voice as low as possible, as to not wake anyone.
"Yes, my lady?" His back is turned, but I know he holds the same welcoming grin as before.
I almost stop myself, but I can't.
"I'm.... sorry."
He spins around to face me, oddly slow despite my unexpected apology. Just as I had thought, his features show no trace of anger.
"That's quite alright. We tried to you kill you, as well. But, you're one of us now so we shall start out on a clean slate. I've already talked to the rest of the men, and they agree. As I said before, any friend of Atum's is a friend of ours. Especially one as important as you. Anyhow, don't fret over it, all is forgiven. I appreciate your apology, however."
"And I appreciate your forgiveness."
He nods once, and when he looks back up at me, his eyes seem brighter than before as though my confession alone has done them good.
"Goodnight, Lady Cresta."
"Goodnight, Marcius."
He turns once again to leave, and this time I allow him to walk all the way down the hall before I hear him call something oddly disturbing.
"Like I said, don't lose sleep over it."
His tone is light, but that doesn't stop the dreadful feelings from coursing through my body.
His forgiveness will not be the thing I lose rest over tonight.