The night air was still, carrying the faint scent of distant rain. Elijah's perception shifted, his vision becoming a tapestry of heat and energy. Grace lay peacefully in his arms, her breathing slow and even.
But beneath the surface of her form, something else revealed itself.
Elijah's eyes narrowed. The frequency spectrum of her being unfolded before him like a flower revealing its hidden petals. There—nestled deep within her chest—was a shimmering presence. It pulsed with a warm, radiant light, like a star burning in the darkness. It was alive, vibrant, full of potential.
But it was constricted.
A lower frequency—darker, denser—encircled it like a cage. The container was subtle, almost invisible, but Elijah could see its edges pressing against the inner spark. It was like watching a butterfly trapped in amber, its wings beating against an unyielding prison.
That's what you were sensing, Elijah thought, his internal voice carrying a note of grim realization. The constriction. The control mechanism.
His mind reached out to Wonko, his mental voice carrying a note of analytical precision.
As expected, Elijah thought. My intuition wasn't just going bonkers for nothing. There's something inside her. Something that doesn't belong.
Wonko's mental voice carried a note of sharp interest. What are you seeing?
Elijah's perception deepened, his focus narrowing on the constricting frequency.
It's like she has two frequencies intertwined within her, he said. One is organic—hers. The other is... foreign. Imposed. It's wrapped around her natural energy like a parasite feeding on its host.
Wonko's mental voice carried a note of grim recognition. I suspect we might find some unwanted creepy crawler. Someone who wanted to keep her contained. Controlled.
Elijah's eyes flickered with a sharp, determined light. His expression shifted to one of focused resolve—a hunter catching the scent of prey.
There's only one way to find out, he said.
Wonko's mental voice carried a note of caution. Don't overdo it. If it exceeds your capabilities—
Elijah's mental voice carried a note of confident amusement. How can it? I'm like a freaking heavenly chosen, remember?
Wonko's mental voice carried a note of dry skepticism. What arrogance. Just hope that one day that attitude of yours doesn't become your undoing.
Elijah's mental voice carried a note of defiant certainty. Even when it does, so what? Only by fighting unknowns can I adapt and overcome the hurdles thrown at me. That's how I've always done it.
Wonko's mental voice carried a note of reluctant respect. You know, the way you think can be really scary most of the time. It reminds me of how the Sutrans are—they believe that only by constant physically training their bodies through battles can they ascend the Samatva. Break their souls from being driven by fate or whatever.
Elijah's brow furrowed. Has anyone ever succeeded?
Wonko's mental voice carried a note of uncertainty. I'm not sure. Parts of my memories are missing. Perhaps some did. Perhaps none.
Elijah's fists clenched at his sides, his body language shifting to one of wishful determination. His jaw tightened, his eyes blazing with quiet fire.
If there are those that did, he thought, his voice carrying a note of fervent ambition. Then Asha—who kick-started the mandate—and Gilgamesh and that Sage guy—perhaps they were the ones who reached that state. And those Aervas, or whatever they were called.
His gaze grew distant, his expression shifting to one of dark resolve.
If I need to reach their level of strength—where you completely control your life and death—then I need to be decisive in my actions. Never let emotions dictate my choices.
Wonko's mental voice carried a note of wry amusement. You can be so smart sometimes. And other times, almost foolish and naive in your decisions.
Elijah's mental voice carried a note of playful defensiveness. What can I say? I'm still young. Not some boring old guy. He paused, his tone shifting to one of exaggerated apology. No offense.
Wonko's silence was heavy, his mental voice carrying a note of quiet hurt.
Sheesh, Elijah thought, his voice carrying a note of genuine discomfort. That's why I usually prefer not always talking with you. Our gap in generations is the problem. You seriously have this always-serious attitude. Didn't you ever have siblings or something?
Silence stretched between them.
Wonko's mental voice finally broke the quiet, carrying a note of weary resignation. Memories of my childhood—even my own—are fragmented. That's the truth. The only one I remember clearly is of Halycon Base.
Elijah's mental voice carried a note of sympathetic understanding. So Everthorne College might have the answers you seek?
Wonko's mental voice carried a note of dry irony. Probably. What do you think, smart guy?
Elijah's gaze grew distant, his expression shifting to one of quiet realization.
Then it means that there's really internal conflict within the Sutran race, he thought. Or should I say—those that oppose the Gilgamesh clan's new way are taken out. While their children or any loved ones connected to them are kidnapped and taken by them, ignorant of what was even stolen from them.
His expression shifted to one of sad contemplation. The fire in his eyes dimmed, replaced by a quiet melancholy.
Wonko's mental voice carried a note of gentle understanding. Boy. Some things take time and patience before you can ever get to the bottom of them.
Elijah's voice carried a note of bitter longing. It's not in my best interest to be like this. But who wouldn't be? Knowing they never got to experience their childhood properly? Wondering what would have been if the world—the rot of it—hadn't taken that chance away from them? Ensuring that one never got to be with their parents and be a normal kid?
Wonko's mental voice carried a note of quiet reflection. You know, if you say "if" boy—probably exists a version of yourself right now that got that chance.
Elijah laughed, the sound carrying a note of genuine amusement. Don't tell me you believe those sci-fi nonsense about broken timelines or something.
But his gaze shifted upward, staring at the night sky. His expression softened, his eyes holding a note of quiet longing.
If right now, somewhere out there, that's really the case, he thought, his voice barely a whisper. Then I hope that other me is enjoying himself. I hope he's happy. I hope he's loved.
The night stretched before him, silent and vast.
And for a moment, Elijah allowed himself to dream of a life that might have been.