Chapter 2

 

At the west of the manor where the viaduct connected its route to the edge of unknown, there was a field if you ignored the viaduct and hiked down the slope around it. It was the field of the trees. Their graveyard. Four headless victims of the trials were put into the tree trunks, and set aflame. Only the Subjects who were now under the Mufus’ hand, The Great Liese, were allowed to attend the funeral. It was dark, like always, but especially today. Perhaps for the position of the graveyard, too close to the abyss, under the shadow of the colossal bridge, the arches and columns disappearing into the darkness; where they ended no one knew.

There were hundreds of tree-graves, with orderly branches and handful of leaves each. The burning trees crackled but stood firm, no branches broke, no leaves fell to the ground. Produced maroon light and heat that seemed to not touch Tezhav. He kept multiple times closer to the graves compared to the rest, had a book in hands right at his face, eyes closed. What is the point, Subject 387 reflected. But Tezhav’s recite hauled her attention back. He mumbled in ancient tongues, pronunciations clear. Meanings blurred. Not that it mattered. For it was from a time where concrete meanings weren’t a thing yet, they communicated not on words and sentences, but on their sounds and tones. Once she let her instincts free, Tezhav was repenting for his sins over the bodies. The language went blurred again, for she wasn’t practiced in it, the will power needed surpassed her skills.

Liese stood tall ahead of the four surviving Subjects. So tall in fact, that they didn’t reach her shoulders. She turned to them as Tezhav’s musical mumbling continued. ‘Today half of you die, and other half shall be granted names. You’re like a newborn now. Fresh. A new Mufus. A new world. It’s awaiting you beyond the bridge. It’s a different life compared to what you’ve been used to up to this point. But worry not, I will be your guidance. And if Tezhav says don’t trust Rezhan, you trust nobody. Within my rein, one of you will survive as the champion. I will be handed my fortune. You’ll be handed your eternal freedom.’

Liese had a metal armor, one that resembled casual clothes rather than a war outfit. It was strange to pinpoint where the armor ended and the skin started. But when she reached over her mid-shoulders and unsheathed a sword was the real shock. The sword was never there. It simply appeared. She thrusted the longsword straight into the ground without taking her hands off the pommel. ‘Now, step forward. Put your hands on mine, Subject 300.’

He hesitated but did so as commanded. Hands covered over hers. ‘You use the spear,’ Liese said with shut eyes. ‘They say, you shall be Harrend of the night. May your sacrifice not go unnoticed, Harrend.’

Next Subject walked up to Liese with a smile, shaking his head. Hands covered over hers. ‘You serve the sword. They say, you shall be Varey of wars. May your strength suffice.’

The younger girl had stopped crying long before. Her hands could not cover those of Liese. ‘You are of the shield. They say, you shall be Ufery of the skies. May your blood find its place, Ufery.’

Last was Subject 387. She enfolded Liese’s hands on the pommel. They were cold like the Nameless Guardian’s blades. Even though Liese never opened her eyes during the process, she recognized their presence. ‘You’ve chosen the poison. They say, you shall be Rexom of the past. May your face be with you till the end, Rexom.’

It felt bizarre to be called Rexom. Why the need for another name, when she already had one: Subject 387. What more the name Rexom would add to her character, when she had everything imaginable. She has trained, read history, and prepared for neutralizing any dead bodies offered by other houses. Rexom was of the ancient times, someone who had changed the world and discovered different layers in faces. She was grand and prestigious. Subject 387 hadn’t even been on the other side of the viaduct. She had prayed to the likes of Rexom when caught committing a crime, of missing a punch, of grunting, of stealing food, and murder. It simply made no sense for her to be Rexom. But let it be. Her goal ended with keeping her soul pure for when it leaves her body and serves the emperor. Not questioning, particularly the Mufus.

Liese shifted the longsword back behind her shoulders, where it disappeared. Tezhav closed the book and opened his eyes, the fire vanquished off the four consecutive trees. And the newborn Subjects were expelled to load their equipment for departure. Rexom, however, did not feel content with the funeral, she had something else in mind.

The castle Reevandi topped the ground with many stores; but the creator of it, whoever it was, had concluded for a few underneath. Beneath the halls, the hanging gardens, sky scratching towers, and circular stairs; lurked the cells. Empty at this time. They owned the furthest memories Subjects could remember, the place where Subjects first arrived, commended to remain until either chosen or they had chosen the path by themselves. And Subject 387, Rexom of the past now, was one of many. The place where she had first met a more reliable and gentle version of Harrend of the night, prior to others. Many of them now dead. But the deaths she had witnessed today mattered only. Each cell represented the related Subject at the top of its small entrance with their numbers carved; the four being: 351, 310, 365, and 380. Rexom had been fortuned by their blood on her clothes and shoes, but the cold salty rain had washed them away. Though other tools could fill the lack of fresh blood and carry her intent; and memories - which Rexom had a protective attitude towards -  stood at the core of it all. She searched for ten-plus-old memoirs in their empty cells. Smell of rot and damp troubled her breathing. A torch of the castle raised in hand. She scanned the abandoned underground. If they had all started with identical cells and progressed with identical lives, but reached different faiths as some dying at the trials instead of the battlefield, something about it had to be unfair. After all, the book of Abstraction of Existence claims that in a way the four of them embodied Rexom in different bodies, all the Subjects were one part of a sole entity. And the shares lost deserved more than a funeral led to forgotten, that being remembrance. The four cells Rexom surveyed yielded a piece of their origin long left behind. Chunk of papers, food spoiled to stone, red scratches on the walls. She ripped a portion of her shirt and divided it into four identical pieces, one for every failed Subject. Then rubbed each dedicated piece on stained lines of the wall, catching some blood. Made it touch their leftover food, then folded it with a piece of paper they had used. All while sweating to keep their memories cued. Her past disturbed her for cheap reasons, it was irrational, not what she had been taught. But a crime she had learned to conceal. Rexom prayed and wept for her fellow Subjects she grieved. ‘May your soul be with me in afterlife.’ And she wrapped a rope around the four consecrated tokens together, made a noose at the end and wore it like an amulet. ‘You ended where you started. I will remember you.’

On the way back up to the castle she kept her chin down to overlook the cell that mothered her. Despite their structures being identical, the one that belonged to you was recognizable after all these years. Personal memories were strong, so confronting them was merely an effort needed to be made, and she had enough of it. Though passing through the yard - where all the subjects collected for social moments - paused her to reflect.

‘Rexom of the past, I see you changing already.’ Harrend’s voice echoed in the corridor. ‘Roaming around as prime as you could get.’

He did not carry a light, his silhouette formed as he approached. ‘I saw you going down here, what other crazy conspiracy you are onto?’

Rexom pointedly ignored him and continued her path to the exit. ‘Stop following me Harrend.’

‘I had to get you on the arenas, alright? You are losing your mind.’

Rexom turned back and got into his face. ‘No!’ She said. ‘You played me. You could convince me any other way. It nearly costed my destiny! I had to volunteer because...’ She scowled. ‘How come you found your way down here in the dark?’

Harrend shrugged. ‘It’s not that dark is it?’

Rexom ignored him again and walked back to leave. ‘We are done. Get lost in your night.’

‘You’re worse than I thought. Foolish me, when you did that poor bastard ruthlessly, I should have known there is something wrong with you, Subject.’

Rexom felt her pulse in the head. She panted to keep control, but failed. She shrieked, let the torch loose to the ground and ran towards Harrend. ‘STOP!’ She shouted. ‘STOP! STOP! STOP!’ She pushed him down on his back and howled through all the chambers and tunnels of the underground. She punched the walls and kicked Harrend. ‘I want all of you out of here!’ She shouted. Time was lost, until she punched a door open and saw a small chamber intimate to her. Her cell. Door ajar. Inside laminated by the fire left on the floor of the corridor. It reignited the moments in which she spent days at its corner, waiting for the bell to get out and spend time with Harrend. He had changed, beaten to the floor.

Rexom grabbed the torch hurried away from the scene. Abandoning Harrend in the depths of the lows.

 

The Great Liese conducted them to follow her over the viaduct. She kept the pace to stay ahead. Varey of wars, Ufery of skies, Harrend of the night, and Rexom of the past marched behind. Rexom’s armor was made of silk, it reached over her right hand and covered the knuckles with poisonous pickles.  She carried a dagger on the other hand. A loose hood over the head and shoulders, and boots to the calf. She was ready to war in case Harrend gossiped about her presence at the underground. But he seemed to have kept things to himself this time. Nevertheless, she did not want to deal with him, either through fights or talks. Though this emotion rooted deeper, for the first time in her life she craved to remain alone. With what the departure was about to reveal, she could only hope.

‘I will eat them for you Tezhav. I will bring their faces for you.’ Varey had a shiny armor on with two swords on his sides. But no helmet. He argued that a great fighter doesn’t hide their face.

‘Tezhav has nothing to do with you anymore, pal.’ Harrend gestured forward. ‘We have a new authority to abide by.’

‘Hey, Liese!’ Varey shouted. ‘You have a fan here, maybe you can help his odds? Because there are none.’ Varey laughed. Whether Liese heard him or not, she remained unchanged on her path. ‘I will kill you myself, spear boy.’

‘Don’t you think it’s better to not?’ Ufery was not a fan of words, so when she talked, everyone acted surprised. A great shield looked out of place with the lavish dress she had on. ‘Other houses will definitely make sure the champion is one of them. And they do that by teaming against everyone else.’

‘Oh, look, birdie has some wits.’ Varey leaned over her. ‘Where were the wits when you chose to volunteer, just to end up crying? Or was it an act? What if this is an act, and your plan is to stab all of us in the back? Hm?’

Ufery looked him in the eyes and walked away from the group.

‘It’s just an idea, Varey,’ said Harrend. ‘Nothing will happen. We will just die as promised. But for now let’s not get frenzied and murder each other out in the dark, where no one’s watching.’

Rexom felt attacked, was that a throwback to her lashing out earlier?

The wide bridge reached to a sudden end. Liese waited for them to close their distance. It was the farthest Rexom had ever been from the castle: isolated far behind. But the viaduct was supposed to connect the lands over the abyss, not lead into it. The edge had been visibly shattered. No paths. Mist and darkness. Liese seemed to read their minds, for she said, ‘Our way leads into the land. This is your gateway to the other side.’

She opened her arms and fell down the edge. Disappearing into darkness.

‘Listen to your mistress, Harrend.’ Varey jumped face down.

The rest followed.