(Caution: This series follows on the heels of the battle between good and evil. It's recommended to have read of it before you venture into these tales.)
Hey there, little ripper boy
All the world you gladly destroy
Why do you wear that sweet disguise?
How'd you get those stolen eyes
It's for my empty father Jack
He'll never get his boys back
Soon enough old Jack will see
None of them were as perfect as me
(Caution: This series follows on the heels of the battle between good and evil. It's recommended to have read of it before you venture into these tales.)
- Modus Operandi - The boy is embarking on a quest from which there is no turning back.
- Memento Mori - The boy gets a lecture from someone quite beneath him.
- Pari Passu - The boy finally meets his brother, but wishes he hadn't.
Modus Operandi
Chael winced as he felt the pangs of the battle that took place far, far away. As good and evil went to war, ripples spread throughout the world of Objects, Holders, and Seekers. At the top of the tower, as the struggle came to its conclusion, he was suddenly reminded of the Black King and White King. But who had won? Out here, isolated somewhere in rural England, he couldn't be sure.
The raindrops beat down on Chael as he approached the estate. He walked without his umbrella, but it wsan't that he had forgotten it; he simply didn't mind the cold rain on his skin. The varnish on the large double doors that loomed before him was peeling slightly under the rain. The building looked like an antique, its old architecture and dark windows painting the picture of a haunted mansion.
He grasped the large bronze knocker before him and slammed it to the wood four times. As he waited, he scanned the skies above him, picking out each globule of water as it raced past him. The rain fell at nine meters per second, at an intensity of 7.6 millimeters of water per hour. A smile crept across his face as he took in the clouds above. The temperature of the upper atmosphere was fluttering. The rain wouldn't last much longer.
When he turned back to the doors, he detected them shaking by a minute amount, and a second later, they shoot again. Footsteps. When the servants opened the doors of the Estate, they found not a man, but a young child, smiling innocently up at them. Even if that - compounded by his bright red hair and freckles - was disarming, they didn't show it.
Chael knew why as soon as he scanned them; they were nothing but vessels, operating mindlessly on wordless commands. Their façade of humanity was frail, but a thin veil of what lay within. Inside, they were empty. Almost as empty as his father. These Beasts would have no comprehension of what was to take place here tonight.
The boy passed between them and pulled an apple from his pocket, taking a bite. The Beasts that served his father let him pass; they knew who he was, even though they had never seen him before. They dare not stop him.
He wasn't familiar with this particular Estate, but his unique eyes harvested every ounce of information they could from his surroundings. Every object's properties were laid bare to him - mass, weight, density, and far beyond. In Chael's world, there were no secrets.
His eyes showed him the traps had been laid everywhere, both physical and immaterial. His father was always so very careful to protect his hidden treasures, and they would easily snare any would-be Seekers or Monsters. They might even be enough to stop Them. But, Chael sidestepped the traps with no trouble, veritably skipping and hopping down the halls unhindered. He thwarted his father's machinations, and the Beasts within stayed out of his way.
In the library, he found his quarry. Another young boy sat in an overly comfortable chair by the fire, pouring over some old journal. Chael's fingers itched when he spotted the boy. The thrill of what he was about to do washed over him.
He skipped to the chair opposite him and sat in it, folding his legs Indian-style beneath him. William started at the sudden intrusion, stiffening in his chair and closing his book quickly. But, he didn't make a sound, and Chael smiled innocently at him.
"Comfortable?" Chael asked, a cheerful tune to his voice.
William, unsure how to respond, alternated between watching Chael carefully and craning his head back toward the servant standing patiently by the library door.
"There's no need to worry," Chael reassured the boy. "I'm not going to hurt you." Unlike Jack, lying came so easily to him.
"How did you get in here?" William started. "Where's Jack? Are you one of us?"
Chael felt the sting of that last question, but let it simmer quietly inside. "He's away on business. I thought maybe we could play a game until he got back!"
Chael pulled an apple from his pocket and took a bite out of it. His eyes might have spoiled many of the wonders of the world for him, but there were many other wonders of which he could never tire, such as the crisp taste of an apple.
"Would you like one?" Chael asked, drawing another apple out and offering it to William. The boy hesitated, staring at the apple as though h were sure it was poisoned. Chael reveled in his fear.
He was so comfortable here, so pampered and plump. What did this human do to deserve a life like this? Jack treated all his boys with such care, and he loved them all equally. But Chael was better than them. So much better! These boys didn't deserve to breathe the same air as him!
Just as William began to reach for the apple, he tossed it in the air. When William looked up at it, it was more than enough time for Chael to cross the distance between them.
He grabbed the boy by the throat tightly, stifling the sound that began to escape from his throat. William barely had time to resist before his face was in the fireplace. Chael knelt on top of him, grabbing him by the back of the neck so hard that his fingers drew blood. Then, he slammed William's face hard into the firewood. Wood splintered, sparks and ashes showered them both, and the boy's scream was cut short as he inhaled the smoke of the fire all around him. The scent of scorched flesh then began to reach his nose, and he then took William by his hair and pressed him as hard as he could into the heart of the fire.
His eyes told him everything. The rising temperature of his burning skin, the frantic heartbeat, the volume of carbon dioxide filling his lungs from the smoke, even the thermal decomposition of his brain.
"I am not one of you!" he hissed at William, despite knowing his words were lost on him.
He had stopped squirming. His hair curled and disintegrated as the fire slowly consumed his head. Chael stepped off of the body to survey his work.
Humans. They died so easily.
Let this be a message to his empty father. Human children were the stupidest and saddest of them all. They were just morons, drowning and gasping for breath, barely knowing how to survive. He was doing them a favor by killing them. And, there was no need for Jack to collect so many boys, when he only needed one.
He stepped back out into the rain. It had lessened by a millimeter an hour now, and was probably going to end soon. He was done here, and soon, Jack would find out what had come to pass. He would be very upset, and it would be best if Chael were far, far away by then.
But where to go? Killing boys was by no means getting boring, but he still craved something new. Before he had started on this journey, he had collected a few Objects - not out of any sort of addiction, but simply curiosity. He loved collecting things that were interesting, Object or no. If he dared, he'd love to someday acquire Doom's apple, a dream he never intended to give up.
That's it! There was an Object he'd had his eyes set on for quite some time. One that had passed through many hands, and until extremely recently, was a major player in the war against Edo Edi Essum. What could Balance have done with it since then? Of course, he knew that there was only one way to find out.
He focused on a single point in the space ahead of him, and projected his consciousness into it. The rain slowed, and then stopped. Gradually, that point in space began to expand, and the rest of the world around him shrank into it. The entire world turned inside out.
He truly wasn't sure how this came to him so naturally. It was as if he had always known how to do it, and was only just discovering that knowledge. Jack had known something from the very beginning, but offered only smiles and excuses.
He stood in a barren wasteland. Before him, a great tower rose. At first glance, it didn't appear to be all that tall, but if one tried to focus on what they thought was the top, they would discover that it actually kept going further. Two-thousand five-hundred thirty-eight floors. His eyes - so great at giving him information - were confounded.
Something deep inside him stirred, causing his childlike smile to falter. Mixed emotions of fear and grief. Something horrible had happened here, he knew. The ground around him had been glassed, as if the sun itself had descended upon the sand. The exterior of the tower seemed scorched, but even he still couldn't see the top floor from here, where the battle had concluded. He would have to go inside.
He entered the base of the tower and looked up, where the ringing floors above him disappeared into nothing. As he began to climb upward, the discontent inside only rose. It was something primal, billions of years in the making. This was where they were separated, he knew. This was where They saw the Great Flame.
By the 500th floor, he paused to take a breath. He felt... weak. How did his father feel when he came to this place? Why did he feel so weak here?
He shook off the feeling. He was above the level of humans and Holders, and nothing could hold him back. Further and further, he ascended the tower.
Memento Mori
"Remember who you are."
The words are believed to have been used when a Roman general was parading through the streets during a victory triumph. Standing behind the victorious general was his slave, who was tasked to remind the general that, though his highness was at his peak today, tomorrow he could fall. The servant conveyed this by telling the general, "Do not forget that you are only human."
It is tender and sore, the spot that is almost human.
A proverbial heart, hidden deep within a cold dark place.
He smiles so that it thinks he doesn't care. He smiles so as to approximate a lie.
He's smiling now, even as it screams at him to stop; to break down, even a little, for a tear to roll down his cheek. He says no.
He smiles even now, knowing what he's going to do to Chael.
He's still smiling.
You shouldn't be.
Chael clawed at the floor, howling in agony as the foreign emotions traveled across eons of empty space and time to assault him. For once, he couldn't think straight, and could hardly even see. He bit back words of forgiveness that dared to spill from his mouth.
All at once, it was gone again, as suddenly as it had come. Chael wiped his face and shakily rose back to his knees. HIs father had found out. His father had finally found out.
He blinked and turned his eyes toward the sky. The sun whirled over his head, over and over, cycling through the sky in a cosmic dance. The stars stared at him and the moon spun like a top as it hung far, far over his head. Here, at the top of the tower, he saw all of the day and night painted above him like a tapestry. Time and space meant nothing here.
He now lowered his eyes, to the black blade that rested on the stone before him. When he had come here, it had been broken in two, but the ritual he had enacted had almost flawlessly restored it into one piece. He hadn't expected it to be so easy to repair a broken Object, but it was what the Black King's Sword had wanted: to be whole again.
It was far more beautiful than he predicted. This Object was once Object number 45, but it had been banished for its dark power, replaced completely. It had become one of the Lost Ones, stolen by Legion in his intense lust for the Objects. Now, somehow, he had come to grasp it. Oh, the Seekers that would kill to own an Object of Legion!
Here, a battle for the ages had come to pass. He could feel every blow in his bones. He followed the steps of the battle between Balance and Edo Edi Essum until it led him to the edge of the tower. He leaned over and stared down into the abyss below. His eyes could see nothing down there. Nothing except total loss.
"It's not much, and it won't by any means stop the Reunion, but at least it's something."
Whose voice was that? He grasped the Black King's Sword tightly and looked over it. Only the White King's Sword had the power to break such a mighty weapon, and it wasn't here. It had returned to its original owner. That was what the black sword was telling him. Its voice whispered to him, begged him to follow the trail.
The Seeker that held it hadn't become the new Holder. And, the creatures of black hadn't retrieved it. No, the White King's Sword had simply been handed willingly back to the Holder of Peace. How revolting.
There was one last point of interest before he left. In the center of the floor, a deep black cloak lay crumpled. Nothing but ash remained of its former wearer. Around it, Chael detected the stitched-together remains of a special tear, doing its best to heal. Somehow, the incarnation of death, the Devourer himself, had been dispatched. It was nonsense.
He moved to poke the cloak with his toe, but alarm bells went off in his head. "Don't touch it," eye eyes warned him, but he was unclear about what secrets this cloak held. With the point of the Black King's Sword, he snagged the hood of the cloak and raised it into the air, shaking away anything that still clung to it. The darkness shimmered and rippled across the cloak, like waves over a vast ocean of emptiness.
Souls Corrupt. He decided against touching it, and whipped it around the sword. He would have to find a suitable container later.
"This will do," he said, grinning and turning to exit the tower. It was a long trip, but the rewards were plentiful.
The soldier charged Chael and the Abbot with the White King's Sword in hand, done with his slaughter of the rest of the monks. The Abbot rose quickly from the table, where his and Chael's chess game had just ended, and took the black king in hand, preparing to stop the soldier's mad rush.
However, Chael intercepted before he ever had a chance, stepping between the soldier and the Abbot. The Black King's Sword slid out of the sheath on Chael's belt and parried the soldier's wild stab as if he were deflecting a stray blade of grass. When the black sword connected with its white counterpart, the shower of sparks and screeching sound they emanated caused the soldier to stumble backward in shock. Chael took it as an invitation, and drove the black sword through his eye socket.
The Holder of Peace looked on in astonishment as Chael plucked the White King's Sword from the dead soldier. Before now, any Seeker who dared to so brazenly defy the Holder would face nothing but suffering and death. But, when Peace looked upon the Black King's Sword, he knew there was nothing he could do. This was no normal child.
While the Holder remained stunned, Chael took the liberty to reach under the chess table and pull out the scabbard. He sheathed the White King's Sword and strapped it firmly to his belt beside the black sword. The swords hummed discordantly now that they rested beside each other. He knew that they were feeling conflicted right now. They were swords that used to be mortal enemies in the most original sense. Even so, Chael was hoping they could work together well.
Chael skipped out of the halfway house, heading straight for the door, when a voice stopped him. It was a voice he had been expecting.
"I gave the White King's Sword back to Peace for a reason, young Chael."
Ugh. Balance sounded just as pretentious as he imagined. He knew this entitled bastard must have been watching him since the tower, but he would have loved to go weeks more without having to meet him. Balance stood just inside the entrance. By no means did he appear threatening; he was just a teenager with a simple pair of glasses and a hooded white cloak.
"You mean you gave it back to Peace for another Seeker to just go back and steal?"
"The Holders exist to protect the Objects," Balance answered stoically. "To keep them safe from the twisted minds of Seekers. That is their duty."
"And yet, the Seekers go to pry them out of their deformed hands. That's the way it works, isn't it?"
Balance narrowed his eyes slightly. He seemed like a spoiled child, but why shouldn't it surprise him? He was one of Yochanan's many children, after all. Yet, this boy was strange, even for a child. He was unreadable.
"You possess both the King's and Usurper's swords. You even maaged to repair the latter after it was broken. Now, my inquisition is; what exactly are you planning to do with them? Balance has finally been restored, so if you desire to upturn it -"
"Don't make me laugh!" a hint of savagery had suddenly leapt into Chael's voice. The sweet façade of Halloween candy cracked slightly, showing the poison underneath. Balance blinked in surprise, but kept his face stoic.
"Balance?! You bring it on yourself to right the unbalanced elements of this world, like some kind of Angel of Justice. You are a human, even with the Toga of the Gods!"
Balance held his breath. He had never met this child before, so how was he able to so quickly discern which Object lay infused within his cloak?
"How many things have you had to fix after you 'balanced' them? Did you really think your power can keep the Devourer locked up forever?"
Chael advanced on him, smiling like a voracious beast, and Balance continued to look down at him sternly. Chael would hate Balance and that smug look on his face, if he weren't so secure in his superiority over him. Balance's zeal was jusst as great as his pure impotence.
"It's all just a game, and you don't even see it. You haven't change anything."
Balance's fists tightened, slightly. He had trepidation about striking a child, but this boy was something else. He didn't feel like a child; he felt like Yochanan.
Yet suddenly, Chael's face softened and he laughed as if he had just played a joke.
"You don't have anything to worry about, Mr. Balance! I'm not going to use these swords to destroy the world or anything like that. They are beautiful and precious items, and I just wanted them. That's all there is to it. Take care!"
As Chael skipped for the exit, Balance stared after him with a furrowed brow. The child was telling the truth; he could tell at least that much.
"It was but a ward, little Yochanan," he said, which made Chael pause for a moment and look back with a disturbing grin.
"A ward to you too, Dallas," Chael replied. "Remember what you are."
He resumed his skipping, giggling as he exited the building. Balance frowned, having expected Chael to be insulted. Either way, Balance wasn't prepared to break his treaty with the Hollow Man. Not yet.