No One's Warrior

Chapter Three

Bright, unforgiving lights scorch my eyes as I inch into the room. My lifetime spent in darkness does me no good here, for Atum doesn't seem to be bothered in the slightest by the fluorescents. I'm sure that my last hours of roaming around in the dimly lit halls aren't of any help either. I blink numerous times, trying to to will away the sting. A majority of it has disappeared when I reopen my eyes, but it's never truly gone. In all my time spent with Theia, I had hardly endured this kind of pain. Being a soldier to her, I wasn't meant for sunlight or light in general. The moon comes out and night, and so did I, as monsters of the dark do. Of course, I was able to come out during the day but I chose not to. It was easier for the Xeras to find me, and overall extremely uncomfortable. Past dawn was my best option and I used it to my advantage.
Remembering the way I used to be stirs up old unwanted feelings. I would never admit it, but I miss it. Not the horrid person I had turned into, but the feeling. I shouldn't miss anything at all, being it was a terrible life to live, but I do. I wish the all the uncertainty and confusion I face now could be replaced with the control and power I felt then.
That's all gone now.
No longer do I feel like a pawn playing the role of top dog.
No.
All I am now is a pawn. A broken one at that. But, no glue can piece me back together. Time is supposed to heal wounds. So why am I not fixed yet?
I feel like a slave, subject to emotions and betrayal.
Even subject to this damned light that burns my irises with each ray of its radiation. I thought the daydreaming would've lessened its strength, but it hasn't. Even my human side should make this a content situation, however I find no peace in this constant thrum of pain searing through my skull. It's ironic how the human half will show through only when it's unwanted. Just my luck.
Atum's hand gives mine a reassuring squeeze, eliminating all the haziness that lingers in my mind with ease. Another one of his many talents.
My sight clears when I allow it, white spots fading from the corners of my vision. The sting of the lights remains, however. I shouldn't be surprised when I was expecting this, but I suddenly feel a bit annoyed.
It's enraging that I can barely even see straight without these lights setting my eyeballs on fire. If I'm lucky, which I'm not, this is one thing that will fade away with all the rest. I roll my eyes at the foolish insinuation. With my track record the chances of that happening are slim to none.
"Cresta? You look as though you've seen a ghost." Atum pipes up, stepping into my line of vision. He hasn't meant to, but he blocks the light from my face, giving me a moments of peace and letting the constant pressure fade away. The slight anger I had been feeling follows in its path, leaving my body so abruptly, I can feel it.
"I wish. I can't see anything with those damned lights you have." I mumble back, rubbing the last bits of pain from the corners of my eyes.
When my hands fall back to my sides, I'm finally able to see clearly. The light bends around Atum's large figure, but even so, he obstructs it from frying me again. Though I have my eyesight back, I can hardly make out Atum's features with the shadow that casts along his face, distorting his plump lips into a nasty sneer. I know that's not him, but it's confusing all the same. It's hard to see his eyes, being so dark, but I can see enough to spot the realization that passes over them like a shadow of its own. Oddly enough, it's almost threatening.
"Oh, right," he glides away so suddenly I don't have time to cover my eyes before the full weight comes back at once, slamming into my head like a bag of bricks. Despite being taken off guard, I have to fight the urge to yell at him. It's not his fault, of course, but he could've given me a heads up. That would've been nice, before I got assaulted by the army of a thousand lightbulbs. I'm taken by a sudden urge to rip off that cover and crush each and every single bulb with my hands, one by one.
My thoughts seem more animalistic than usual.
"Thanks." I mutter, squinting against the newly dimmer lights, that actually allow me to see without trying to kill me.
"Of course. Sometimes I forget that..." his content look seems to fade away with his words, a clear sign that he thinks he's skating on thin ice. I suppose I haven't been the most open with this topic, but I have no reason to be. I love Atum, and I would share memories of my time with Theia if wished, but that's not something I want to remember. The time I spent with her was a lie. It was all trickery and deceit, and something I wish I could forget. However, memories stick forever. I'll always remember how she stabbed me in the back, and maybe that's a good thing. It taught me not to trust so easily. As a result, I've learned my lesson and I'd rather not recall the supposed good times of that period of my life. I've gained suspicion, and lost my innocence.
"Not speaking the words won't make them any less true, Atum. I've come to terms with it. I won't scold you for preaching the truth. I was her subject."
A short moment passes before he answers, though to me it feels like an eternity. Possibly due to my devastatingly true statement.
"You're right. My apologies. I just suppose I have a hard time... coping with it." He admits, not bothering to the acknowledge the half a dozen gazes that rest upon our little show. I hadn't noticed them until recently, but now they're all I can focus on.
Six pairs of eyes set their sights on us, flickering between so fast I might think their eyeballs would literally roll out of their head. They belong to the Xera warriors, of course, much to my dismay. I may have had a welcoming encounter with Marcius, but that doesn't mean the rest of them are jumping at the chance to allow me into their lives with open arms. Judging by the looks on their bland faces, I'd have to say my suspicions were correct. I don't think this greeting will be a kind one. Although, I'll certainly try my best to be civil. For Atum.
However, it's hard when the set of their faces is anything but gentle. With slanted eyebrows, and deep frowns, I'd even guess they're outright angry. But, I know enough to guess better. They are loyal to Atum and they'd never disrespect me when I stand so close to his looming figure. The thoughts gives little relief but at least it's better than none.
"Good afternoon," Atum speaks first, unlatching his attention from me to his men. His head tilts at each one of them in turn, greeting them one by one. The tone of his voice holds no trace of concern or nervousness, but with the way he glances warily back at me, I can tell he feels otherwise. I hope to do something to settle the anxiety that I suspect is blooming in his mind. It's understandable. I'm not famous for my ability to get along with others.
"Atum." I turn my head in time with the warriors words, trying to spot where the voice had come from. My job would be a lot less difficult had they not been arranged in a perfectly straight line. However, they are, making my pinpointing nearly impossible. Nearly. A warriors traits never fade completely.
The voice is deep, and carries a thick accent I have no trace to. I feel a sense of guilt mulling over this, as I've been here before with many Xeras standing in front of me, defenseless. Although, this time my intention is different. I have no plans to kill them, only to try and accept them, instead of continuing this harsh streak of malice we hold between us. Even so, I can barely contain the eye roll as I inspect each of the men, lined up orderly next to each other. Dressed in identical shiny coats, and heavy boots, I realize I have a slim chance of placing the voice. And that thought is only further proved correct when my gaze rises to their faces. The resemblance is uncanny between these soldiers. Golden hair, and even more metallic gold eyes. It shouldn't be surprising considering they're physically made from the suns power, but there's so little different between them, I find myself taken aback, with my eyes frozen open.
"Lady Cresta." The man speaks again, though this time, I see his mouth move.
I look pointedly over at him, slightly alarmed at the similarities between them all and confused how I hadn't noticed before. He shifts under my weighted stare, but not uncomfortably. When my eyes meet his, he doesn't dare look away. He doesn't need to. I'm not radiating hostility as before, and so he doesn't feel threatened, for which I'm thankful. My approach is not meant to be malicious. Our gaze is held for a minute longer before it drops to his chin. The only thing setting him apart from the rest of the men is the light stubble that covers the lower half of his face. Quite like Atum's, but not as dark. Just like his eyes. Atum's have a golden tint to them, but his are nothing like the yellow ones that stare me down at this moment. Under his gaze, I don't feel quite so... exposed.
"Good afternoon, warrior." The words come easier than I expected them to, thanks to my meeting with Marcius. He showed me that forgiveness is not out of the question. I can only hope the rest of these men follow suit, otherwise turmoil will be impossible to avoid. "I haven't caught your name."
He eyes dart over to Atum, as mine lower to see the faint grin forming on his straight lips. I can't help but compare them to Atum's, noticing how different he is from his subjects. So little similarities.
"I am Cassius, lady Cresta," he glances back at Atum before he looks to my eyes again, this time with genuine welcome. The tiniest smile splits his face, small in size but bigger in meaning. It seems he's willing to start out a new foot.  As am I. "It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance."
"Likewise." I murmur, taken off guard, not to mention slightly amazed, at his act of pardon. I hate being surprised, but this time I allow it, without any kind of misconduct. I'm grateful they're making my job an easy one, if only to please Atum. No matter. As long as we're tolerating each other, he will be fine.
"I'm Titinius." Another soldier speaks up from further down the line on my left. He draws my attention to him, going quiet until I've finished my inspection. My eyes search him for some sort of abnormality, some kind of difference to set him apart from the others. Silent hope stains my gaze, and with reason. Without any kind of trait that I look to find, I will not be able to tell them apart. How I wish they would go for name tags. I eventually find something when a shiny glint of metal catches my eye, coming near the side of his head. A bar sticks through his earlobe, stretching about an inch or two out on either side. It's slanted, and looks as if it was poorly made, but the sharp points that stick out from the ends tell a different story. They're sharper than a knife, with shimmering gold undertones and spikes made of pure silver. To my astonishment, the small earring is not made of gold as I had suspected. It's silver by the looks of it. Curiously, I wonder if it's real, but I don't get much of a chance to wonder. "I must say you look a lot different than the last time I seen you. A big change on your part."
My eyebrows knit together, moving in time with the assumptions that race through my mind. I wonder where he's going with this. Regardless, I take the bait.
"When was that? I can't seem to recall."
"You don't remember?" He chuckles, but I find no humor in the situation. His words don't hold any trace of hostility, but why else would he bring up a time when I tried to kill him? Is this his idea of payback? Reminding me of the evil I've done in the past? "Well, I suppose you wouldn't. I-"
"That's enough, Titinius. She's a different person now." Atum speaks forcefully, already seeing where Titinius had been going with his memory. I'm thankful he intervened, but as I had feared, his protectiveness will only anger them more.
"It's fine. I deserve it. Give me your worst." I reply, cutting in before they see me as weak. I'm sure they already do. My voice is not nearly as strong as I had hoped, and instead sounds quiet and frail. I quickly scan the line for the familiar face of Marcius, but I never find him. Of course, he isn't here. Finding one friendly face has even proven impossible.
It's Titinius' turn to look confused, though he makes no attempt to undermine what Atum has commanded. He knows better than that, I suppose.
"Go and gather the others to meet Cresta. We will wait for you in the control room," Atum waves them off with one hand, to which the men hurry out of the room, bowing before they exit. I listen to their boots as they go, hitting the floor so forcefully, it shakes.
The door locks into place behind them, leaving Atum and I in silence. But, not for long. "I want you to meet everyone."