Chapter 13 #4
As if in stop motion, Lucien could do nothing but watch with growing horror as her hand raised—she was too far for him or Auren to reach in time—and she placed her palm on the tube.
Electricity zinged at the mere touch, sparking in the air like live wires.
The glass rattled, the blue liquid within sloshing, but not overflowing—the top was sealed, a thinner tube running from it, snaking down the floor and somewhere further out of sight. All the tubes led to the same place.
Vesperin jerked her hand away with a gasp. The sound was far too loud in the quiet of the room, echoing. Lucien winced, surging forward to grab her as she stumbled back, away from the tube. Only—
He hissed as his bare palms made contact with her shoulder. Static traveled from her flesh to his, shocking him.
Vesperin made a surprised sound, too; though, not of pain.
As strange white glimmers receded, sinking back into her flesh as if they’d never been there, never shocked him, she looked up from her raised hand, where she studied her skin as if it held the secrets of the universe. "Lucien, what was that?"
Lucien’s hand hovered over her arm. The small, pale hairs stood on end. "I don’t know, sweet girl. You—shocked me."
She looked from him to Auren, her pupils so blown they appeared nearly black.
"Do you feel it, too? Do you hear it? That hum—it’s like—" She shook her head, chin lifting as her gaze tracked over the countless blue tubes. "It’s like it’s calling me.
Whatever it is." Her voice was soft and airy, dazed.
Vesperin began to press her face closer to the same tube she’d touched. They towered above them all. Lucien saw his and her reflection in the shine of the glass, distorted by the curved shape.
"It feels like me. Like whatever’s inside me is in here, too." Vesperin reached for the glass again.
"No!" Lucien and Auren said at once.
"I won’t touch it," she breathed, and as her palm hovered over the glass, not touching as she kept true to her word, Lucien saw white tendrils of electricity spark on the surface of the glass, as if reaching for her. The liquid rippled and shimmered like turbulent ocean waves.
It was Auren who finally broke, taking her wrist and tugging her back, where she fell into his chest. She blinked multiple times, as if slowly awakening, then looked around the room, at the tubes, as if seeing them for the first time.
"What is this place?" Vesperin asked them.
Lucien was studying the wires intently, tracking where they all lined up at the corner, before disappearing around a bend. How large was this place? What else was hidden down here?
Auren was rubbing his thumb over the back of Vesperin’s hand as he murmured, "Do not frighten me like that, Hunter. I grew worried."
"Sorry," she whispered. "I don’t know what came over me…"
Lucien stepped away from them, following the thin tubes and wires on the ground.
They were empty, hollow, but from how they snaked up the top of each glass tube, pouring into it, he knew that whatever blue liquid that was, it had once traveled through the wire-like tubes on the concrete ground to be dumped into the glass.
His ears strained for the sound of voices—or even the hum that Vesperin had mentioned—but he heard nothing. Were they truly the only ones down here?
"Rhyden?" Lucien asked. Silence. He tapped the small piece behind his ear. "Rhyden? Come in." Nothing. He swallowed, fear curling inside him as he turned back to Auren and Vesperin. They’d walked closer to Lucien. Auren’s grip on her hand kept her tethered to his side, and away from the tubes of liquid—though, Lucien saw how she couldn’t look away, entranced.
"The comms are broken," Lucien told them, tone grave.
Vesperin drew in a sharp breath. "Okay, it’s fine. We can handle this. I still remember the code to the door, and we have—" She lifted her other arm, the one Auren wasn’t holding, to show her watch, but she paused. "My watch is dead." She turned her wrist out, and Lucien saw the black screen.
Lucien remembered his phone and pulled it out of a pocket on the inside of his suit coat. He pressed the button on the side. It didn’t come on. "My phone died, too."
"Whatever is in those tubes, it’s interfering with the…" Vesperin’s trembling voice trailed off; she shook her head. "With our tech," she finished.
Lucien gripped her cheeks, turning her face up to his.
Her lips were open, her cool breaths on his palms as he held her face.
Her eyes were unfocused. "It’s interfering with you, Vesperin.
We need to get out of here. We have no idea what is in those tubes and what it is doing to you.
For all we know, it could be radioactive. We could already be exposed—"
"No, this is our only shot. We have to see this through," she begged. "We don’t need tech to gather hard evidence. We just need hard copies of files, written documentation—anything. There has to be something here we can use."
"Fine," Lucien gritted out, "but quickly."
Weaving fate was no easy feat, but Atlas would do so for eternity.
The shadows rippled around him as he stepped out of them with a silent laugh.
He had done so forever. He had woven the rise and fall of planets, and even the recent creation of one.
The age of the Earth was slowing. The Celestials were angered by what had been done to this once-beautiful, promising planet of blues, greens, and browns.
He had known, and he knew, still, what was to come.
The worst of all. He would let her go once more.
Though this time, it would only be the start of their forever.
Atlas studied the trio closely. He would always desire to stare at Vesperin, but this time, he allowed himself to stare at the Soul Searcher. Soon, they’d meet.
Atlas stood, entirely unknown and unseen to them. As he’d always been.
They would not know how he had led Kiton here, how he curated the evening to ensure the lab was empty for them to discover Talor and Sabine Blackfall’s plans.
The Celestial could not account for everything. He knew there was another watcher, just as he knew how this night would end.
Auren shadowed Vesperin as they followed the tubes, and just before they rounded the corner, Auren thought he heard something, saw a shadow shift on the wall—a reaching hand, a heavy presence.
He stilled.
"Wait," Auren breathed, thinking that, perhaps, they should not venture further. Luck was running thin. Better not to press it. His fingers brushed the ends of Vesperin’s hair, spilling over his fingertips as she stepped out of his reach.
Auren shook his head with a low sound, forced to follow Vesperin and Lucien. The three rounded the corner, and he kept his scythe at the ready, pushing past them both.
The blue glow from the tubes struggled to pierce the darkness of the low-ceilinged room.
His eyesight was better than their human senses. He held out a gloved hand, silently urging them to pause as he swept over the room.
Desks with dark monitors. A large blackboard on the wall, papers pinned to it. White chalk scratched in odd symbols. A lone steel door in the back. The concrete echoed underfoot.
And most important of all, it was empty.
Auren lowered his scythe, still on edge, however. "We are alone."
"It’s so dark," Vesperin breathed, stepping closer to him.
"How can we see?" Her bare arm brushed his fingertips, where they wrapped around the handle of his scythe.
The handle warmed under his gloves, a faint, otherworldly glow zinging down the blade, answering her call.
It pulsed pale white. Vesperin met his eyes in the thin light. "Your scythe…"
Auren held it out. "Touch it again, Hunter. Together, perhaps we can light up the dark."
Vesperin smiled up at him, then reached for his hand, wrapping her slender, pale fingers around the handle, just beneath his. The scythe warmed and pulsed like a living thing beneath their joined palms, then the glow increased, filling the room and lighting her gorgeous features beautifully.
"Oh," she breathed.
"What is it?" Auren asked.
"Your Star—it’s glowing, too."
Auren reached up to touch his cheek, feeling the pleasant warmth there; he saw the faintest glow in his periphery.
"Oh my god," came Lucien’s shocked, frightened voice.
They both broke from their reverie, though she still held his scythe. Together, they walked over to where Lucien stood near the blackboard. Auren shortened his steps, mindful of Vesperin’s smaller legs.
Auren gently forced Vesperin’s hand out with his, to allow the scythe’s glow to illuminate the wall Lucien stared at.
Papers were pinned to it. Architectural designs and mathematical equations. Similar scrawl was done on the blackboard next to it, etched with chalk.
Vesperin stepped away, arm stretched out to keep hold of the scythe. "What is this, Lucien?"
Lucien’s hands flattened on a large piece of paper—one that detailed a strange shape, arching high above some drawn building, with numbers, symbols, and arrows pointed to various pieces of the design. "I have seen this before."
"Where?" came Vesperin’s worried voice.
"I do not know when"—Lucien turned to face them, palm still on the paper, and the glow of the scythe caught the lens of his glasses—"but sometime on Tarz, in that life with you, I saw this.
" He licked his lips. "I feel it. The memory is so faint, but it is there.
A knowing in my Soul that this is not the first time I have seen it.
" His fingers traced the papers like a man starved of knowledge.
"Something about it is different. It is like the memory I had was a crude, rudimentary design. The kinks, the errors—they’ve all been smoothed out.
" His forehead fell to the board, eyes squeezed shut. His lips moved, but even Auren’s enhanced senses struggled to make sense of what he said.