A science fiction, space, adventure, quest, short story collection introducing a group of individuals who relate to each other on levels unknown to them.
°
Door 1
Planet Euhr, Fifth Moon on System Wuravar
City of Islazh
Basilica Rhu Alda
°
THE YOUNG.
The golden rays of Zhûn bathed it all in yellow hues, and so did the waters of the pond, a miniature lake of gold, turned every evening into liquid jewel. The echoes of many a prayer traveled the countless halls and gather rooms, pregnant with the errors and pains of the devoted. The high ceilings were hidden in near darkness, the beautiful craftsmanship on the epic designs and patterns of the Church of Alda that lined the walls and floors, slowly banishing from view as they traverse upwards, beautifully lustrous in a mixture of emerald and gold.
All of it rotten.
Down to the last stone and tapestry.
Risking a glance, Vl'ei peered between the pillars, taking in the scene and rapidly judging his next move.
Only once had he stepped within the walls of the Basilica Rhu Alda, years that felt like eons, hand in hand with his devoted mother and older brother. From a young age, Vl'ei had openly opposed to the sadistic ways of the church to his family and scholars, which always brought undesirable attention to them by the Order.
On a First Zhûn Day ten years ago, when a full planetary cycle ends, he was to accompany his family into the basilica, the holiest place in the city of Islazh, and be part of a Holy Gathering, a yearly mass held by the ordained monks and bishops. Only to watch his mother give her life to the young god and his brother join its twisted church. Standing there among the stone pillars he remembered how alone and scared he felt that day. So young. Alien to all this foolishness which dominated the heart of most of the inhabitants of planet Euhr. He had managed to escape that day, to run from his mother's dead eyes and his brother's voice and hide and starve and steal and much more to survive on the streets of Islazh. Coming to age and joining the Cian, a rebellious interstellar group of those who oppose the twisted ways of Alda. Until today, where he stood once more within the basilica, ready to perform blasphemy on holy ground to a sadistic god.
On the other side of the pond a slehk monk dressed in deep green robes was pouring the contents of a metal bowl into it, the thick liquid causing ripples on its gold surface, which died as they reached the edge.
Gold Blood; life's essence solidified through arcane magics, then mixed with the devotee's blood, giving birth to the holy elixir for Alda's worship.
Behind it another monk lifted its arms in adoration and toned Alda's canticles as the most recent victim of the church's ways laid on top of a raised platform.
Fools, Vl'ei thought, slowly stepping around the pillars, approaching the sacred pond. Alda's extremist ways were no secret to the Imperium, the church had become too powerful, gaining devotion across the worlds of the South Congregation, some say starting to root on the West Nebula, and within the ITC itself.
He wondered if any of them was his brother, It didn't matter either way, he thought, forcing his desire away, gazing across the pond at the monks, remembering the transformation which they went through before getting ordained by the Bishop, he would be unrecognizable by now.
Reaching the edge he knelt, keeping an eye on the slehk monks, and for a split second regretted being there. Besides for the Holy Gathering, all those who venture into the basilica that do not belong to the ordained did not leave. Blinded at their calling, the monks could not see him, but he knew they would sense his presence as soon as he disturbed the sacred waters.
He saw his reflection, the whites of his shirt and red pants, his long black hair tied back with a cord. He met his eyes with determination, amazed at the mirrored image on the elixir. Mirrors were forbidden. On every world were the Church of Alda had a say on, for generations claiming only one could see its own reflection through Alda's worship.
Foolishness, to believe only a mad god could truly show one's own reflection, for in it there is more than simple image. Vl'ei mused, though he admitted that behind the claim there was truth, for human beings hide their true selves to the world, living behind false image and presumption. Man can hide behind a mask, but when glancing at himself in a reflection, he is stared back by the real being he is.
He saw his face for the first time in years, and at first glance he didn't like what he saw. Fear. Uncertainty. His mother's eyes and the coal black of his hair like his brother's. He knew what he was doing, at least why he was doing it, and that was enough to also show him more on his reflection. Determination. Clarity of mind. Something seemed a little off on his reflection, he resembled a little youngster, no more than twelve summers, he assumed it a warped trick from the gold waters. Yet in his eyes he saw it. That which brought him to join the rebellion, besides his inner demons; an inner glow, a uniqueness that set him apart from his family. From everybody. Something theo'Onehith, Cian's wiseman saw on him.
He was not weak.
He reached his boot and soon a dagger rested on his palm, olocuin steel the length of his hand with an ambar tail, a weapon of self defense. He drew blood from his palm and squeezed, the droplets fell and caused tiny ripples of their own. The scarlet droplets refused the Gold Blood, like oil on water, it only took a few heartbeats, then he watched it dissolve and mix in with the pond. He stood back, expectant.
Nothing.
Was it all a lie?
Were the writings of the Stone false?
From his pocket he unrolled the synthetic scroll and mouthed the words displayed on red ink.
'where no hope resides,
and a false God lies
and holds the tongue,
obsidian steel is the key,
for the Golden Sea
to unveil to the ever young,
blood shall break the seal,
and reveal
the Doors to Obernewt'yn,
where gods are born
and worlds are mold,
and forth shall he see
into what will be.'
Despair held his heart in a cold grip.
He felt his throat go dry and his lips crack. Maybe we did something wrong. He desperately searched his thoughts for uncalled questions. Not noticing the approaching monk. Had we been betrayed by Baron Ludwig? No. He had much to lose if we failed. Had Marweth mistranslated the Stone? No. He's too clever to fall for such mistakes. Maybe the ancient monastery on planet Kalah had giving us a fake anagram? What if the Church of Alda had them in their grasp? Wouldn't be the first time Alda's power bought old religions over to their cause. But if so, how could we missed it? Then what?
"It's been a long time Vl'ei." Muscles turned to jelly, his heart started pounding so violently he was sure he could see it move through his shirt.
That voice.
A voice from his past. A sound that brought back fear and uncertainty, from a time he thought long forgotten, which now turned him into a horrified little kid again.
Slowly, on trembling knees, Vl'ei stood and faced the newcomer, failing to gasp a breath at the sight of his brother.
He's gone. Nothing remains of his old self. Besides his voice, Vl'ei could not do nothing else but gawk at what his brother had become.
A wiry frame squirmed underneath the many folds of the forest green robe he wore, pale skin, almost translucent, was lined with blue veins on neck and hands with black fingernails.
"Amir." The name tasted sour, unknown to his tongue, as if pronouncing it out loud were something forbidden.
He let the hood fall back and Vl'ei stared at the horrific vision he had dreaded coming true when he volunteered for this, yet deep down in his heart he knew the truth. He missed his brother. His laughter, the crazy way his hair grew and most of all, his love. He loved him. Never stopped thinking about him. How could he? Yet now, this...being before him resemble not a single feature of Amir. He was gone. And instead, a twisted mutant regarded him and called his name.
His face, if it could still be called that, stared back at him with no eyes; the eyeballs had been removed and his eyelids sawed to his cheeks a long time ago. No hair on him, eyebrows, eyelashes, everything gone. His crazy curls were gone, instead, a clean head, shaved down to the hair follicles to avoid any hair regrowth. A hairless puppet to a twisted god.
"I missed you too little brother." He extended both arms, the robe falling heavily on the sides.
"Really?" He barely kept a crack in his voice at bay, "Does Alda allow its slaves to succumb to something so human as feelings?"
"Slaves? The weak minded are the slaves. Not to a god but to its own simplicity and lack of purpose. Alda lights the path through the void." His demeanor infuriated him. There he was, standing before his brother, the only true link to his past, a glimpse of a memory inside a memory, from a time where his heart and essence had ached for many years. And the only true ache he felt right there and then was an almost uncontrollable need to launch himself at him and slash his throat.
That would truly show Alda a sacrifice up to its par, brother killing brother.
"You dared take a step within the basilica and gawk at its holiness." He raised his head as if admiring the craftsmanship. Pain displayed on his features, lost in memory. "It's the last vision I have from my worthless past. Tell me. Is it still as beautiful and breathtaking as I remember it been?"
Vl'ei tucked away the scroll, noticing the advancing monk from the other side of the golden lake. "Why don't you ask your god, Amir. Ask if he could grant you one more sight."
"Mother had…"
"Don't you dare mention her you fool." He took a step closer, standing mere inches from his brother. "Mother died blinded by your god's putrid words. You were the one who brought it home and ended it all. She knelt before Alda because her oldest son was lost. Then you killed her. Sacrificed to feed the twisted hunger from cursed Alda."
"Arrogant little maggot." Rage spilled over his mouth. "You faithless ghost. How dare you question the ways of Alda. I know of your weak soul in pain. I know…"
"You know nothing! Nothing of my pain. Nothing of mother. Nothing of what I've gone through or dealt with." He was yelling now. An uncontrollable shaking took over his entire body, as if his life essence went through countless spasms. More monks appeared from a side chamber, aware of the commotion. He had to get out. Now. "To the Nine Hells with your sadistic god and its barbaric ways Amir. No deity could ever know what…"
And then it happened.
Silent as silk on skin, the liquid gold from the pond erupted upwards as if a wave had broken against the rocks of a cliff, staying put, taking the shape of an enormous gate.
"What have you done?" Panic in his voice, Amir forgot about Vl'ei, immerse in the sounds coming from the sacred pond. His inner eye rapidly deciphered what was happening, all monks stared at the forming gate, somehow aware of what was happening before them. "No! You've disturbed the Gold Blood. Your essence belongs to Alda!"
He launched at him, a twisted dagger materialized on his left hand. Almost effortlessly, he cast his brother's wiry frame aside, taken aback at his weak frame as he landed heavily on the floor.
"I won't kill you Amir. I'm not Alda's puppet."
As if answering an unvoiced call, the engravings on the far back wall, resembling a three petal flower, was coming to life. Metal grinning against stone as it detached itself from the wall, debris falling on polished floors. Alda was making itself present at the unholy disturbance of its Gold Blood. The arachnid machine awoke from its mechanic slumber, what had passed by beautifully stone artwork of petals and leaves moulded into a massive torso and eight sharp legs. A grotesque humanoid face scanned its surroundings, rapidly loading from an inner Specs Bank.
Monks scurried before it, throwing themselves at its shadow and prayed. "You've awoken Alda! You can't be the chosen one. You blasphemous scum!"Amir hurriedly ran after the others, sidestepping the monks on the floor.
"Praise Alda! Forth has come the day…"
His words died with him as the mechanical arachnid sent him face first smashing into the side wall, his skull cracking into mulch and spine broken where the metal leg hit him.
Once, Vl'ei would've been in utter shock, to see his own brother killed before his eyes. Now, after his mother, what he endured living in the streets of Islazh, and Amir's fanatic love for Alda left him with nothing more to offer than a split glance.
He remembered a line from the words on the Stone, a piece from humanity's past, which theo'Onehith had uploaded on the synthetic scroll; 'humanity shall succumb under the metallic hand of its own creation, for man is weak, and machines were created to eliminate all weaknesses.'
Fear and uncertainty spread among the faces of the monks, for you had no need of eyes to witness when a god failed you.
Vl'ei had to hurry.
A deafening pulse came from the door, as if powerful sound waves emanated from it as a silver line framed the shape of a tall door. A quick silver light shone through it from the other side, light sunlight peeking through cracks on a wall.
Reality solidified around him, a blink, a heartbeat between the constant current of time's hourglass. The only sound was his heavy breathing and the drumming of his heart.
It worked.
So it's true.
It dawned on him. Was he truly the 'ever young?' The sole being in the entire universe blessed with eternal life? If so, why did he felt so...human. Anything could kill him, anytime, anywhere.
Or could it?
Is this the reason why he resembled a young boy on his reflection? Why he narrowly survived through many precarious situations as he grew up on the wild streets?
He'll deal with it later. He had so many questions. He made a mental note to ask theo'Onehith as soon as he saw him.
Now he stands before one of the doors of Obernewt'yn. The mystic place between time and space where gods and worlds came from. Gold Blood fell and soared, like a thick waterfall of liquid metal, ready to be opened into oblivion, the only place where man had not venture yet ...the framework of reality and time.
He steadied himself.
Dagger ready.
"For a cian sky over a flag of clouds." His words echoed down the paralized halls and chambers of the basilica, its sound battling through its core. "And a breath of peace above us all." Cian's words for harmony.
Taking a deep breath he walked through, leaving behind chaos and confusion on a twisted world.
©rav-rowen
R