31-Zach #2
“You know, this was mine,” he says quietly, turning the teardrop vial between his fingers.
My breath stutters. “W-What?”
Cold, sharp shock fries my veins. Then horror. The walls of the bus compress.
“I was there, on Sunset Boulevard, when Officer Reyes got the call.” He keeps going, his baritone voice cracking. “I was right down the bloody street.”
The world tilts. I grip the edge of the seat to keep myself upright as my vision tunnels. Of course, nothing about this living nightmare is coincidence.
“How long have you known?”
His long neck tightens as he swallows hard. “From the moment I saw you wearing it.”
My pulse thrums in my ears. The bus feels like it’s shrinking, pressing us together.
“And…Endymion,” he says, the name trembling on his tongue. “I’m not even sure that’s his name. But when you said it, something flipped, like a door I didn’t know was there suddenly opened.”
I feel tears; hot, blurring everything. My throat tightens painfully.
“He’s haunted me for years,” Kit continues, a shrill desperation to his admission. “And you—Zach, you’ve haunted me too. Long before I ever met you. For Christ’s sake, I only got that blasted necklace because he told me to. It’s like he knew it’d find its way to you.”
A sob breaks loose from my chest. Not because I’m afraid or confused. But because that impossible confession is everything I’ve been too terrified to believe. Proof that I’m not crazy; the dreams meant something. The god isn’t just in my head.
It’s too much truth. Fate. Too much of him.
“I know you think you owe everything to someone other than yourself and those around you.” I wipe my cheeks, forcing myself to anchor, breathe and think.
The god’s shadow presses at the edges of my mind, but I shove it back.
“But he didn’t do anything. He only makes you think he did.
That’s his ability. Don’t you get it? He doesn’t own you. ”
“He’s too powerful,” Judas whispers. “I-I can’t fight him.”
“No,” I say, steadier this time. “He doesn’t get to claim your success. We are in control. Not him.”
Kit inhales like I’ve given him the first breath of fresh air in years.
We’re pawns in the universe’s game. Us humans are foolish; most of us never even brush the edges of enlightenment, let alone get close enough to understand that gods are not omnipotent.
They aren’t infallible or separate from us. We are the gods, the universe.
Power.
And Judas, whether he knows it or not, stands on the edge of realizing that.
I check that his mic’s still in place, clipped to the edge of his clasped cloak. Sliding back into the tiny booth, I push up my button-down’s other sleeve. Crossing my legs, I re-center the tripod.
His Adam’s apple bobs, streaks of sweat striping his red skin. Shuffling forward in his seat, he leans onto the table as if he can’t support his upper body; his clammy forearms painting the reflective metal like a preschool craft project.
“It’s just you and me.” I take his right fist in my hands.
“Okay,” he murmurs, slowly lifting his chin until the fanged creature faces me head-on.
His torso expands with his deep inhale, filling the tiny space between the booth and table.
He’s like a giant in a hobbit house; uncomfortably out of place.
Judas exhales, the warm, heavy breath skittering across me.
Letting go, I lean into the booth’s backrest, trying to create as much space between me and my job as possible. I click the camera and begin to record.
“Thank you for sitting down with me today.”
“Of course,” he says, slipping into Judas’s dominating persona in a blink.
“If you don’t mind, I think I’m just going to dive right in.”
He chuckles, rolling his hand in a gesture that says, ‘go on, then.’ His fingers tap anxiously against his knee.
“How about we start with something easy.” I gesture toward the tapestry I pinned behind him; a simple white background with the band’s logo on display just above his left shoulder. “What’s the symbolism behind Somnium?”
Pointers pressed to his pursed lips, Judas leans into the tapestry, creating much-needed distance in the confined frame.
“There’s a place that exists between life and death, and every living creature with higher consciousness accesses it.
It shapes infinite realities—some we deem impossible.
From early childhood, we’re taught to dream.
To reach for the stars. We’re asked, ‘What do you dream of doing one day?’ Because it is in dreaming that we seek our highest potential. ”
“So, are you saying that Somnium is your dream? Your highest potential?”
“I can’t really see it any other way.” The thin gold chains draped over the cloak’s shoulder sway as he shrugs. “I tour with my mates while sharing music that I love for people who love it. Every time we play, I’m reminded of how lucky I am.”
I nod, but the sincerity in his tone unsettles me, considering a moment ago he confessed the opposite.
It hits me then—Judas does see this as everything he could ever want.
How couldn’t he; Judas gets to run in the rain and splash through the mud while the man beneath follows, desperately trying to keep the waste from being dragged through the carpets of his personal life.
“How would you describe your band’s logo and the symbolism behind it?”
The mask’s cliff-cut cheek shadows his profile as he faces the sigil, the back half of his head protected by a hood.
“The moons,” he says, pointing to the blackened crescent one at the bottom, “waxing, waning, disappearing, returning.” He hops from each moon phase to the next, tracing their collective shape as he drags his hand back down.
“That’s the cycle. Transformation isn’t linear, it’s spherical.
You’re allowed to vanish and come back. Somnium’s built on that rhythm. Rise, fall, rise again.”
His fingers scrape against the table, shifting the silver ring on his right middle one. It’s a thick band with thorny vines woven through one another in an intricate braid. It’ll probably be gone tonight, caught by some lucky fan in the crowd.
“The runes on the right.” I tilt my chin to the row of five symbols. “People assume they’re occult, is there any validity to that claim?”
“They’re simply runes we use as markers. Each one stands for a stage of becoming: potential, awakening, transformation, cycles, and enlightenment.” He shoves his hands under the table. “When you put it all together, you get the story of Somnium.”
“I have to ask about your names.” Slipping into the script I rehearsed, I force my voice steady.
“Duae, Tria, and Quatour all mean the number or a group of two, three, and four, respectfully. Then there’s Judas.
Seems controversial and can perhaps create a negative religious perception in regard to Somnium. What’s your opinion on that?”
“Judas represents the inevitability of dichotomy.” The red paint cracks as his jaw works.
“On one hand he does the unthinkable—betraying Jesus while in Gethsemane. But if you change perspectives, you can’t help but to see that it was this act, this moment of pure greed and selfishness, which led to the crucifixion and rebirth of Christ; the miracle that supposedly changed the world. ”
He holds himself high, speaking with fragile conviction.
“He’s a symbol that good things can’t happen without bad things in place.
Happiness cannot be enjoyed without also feeling grief and sorrow.
Rich means nothing if you are poor in emotional fulfillment and spiritual development.
In order to accept or attain the greatest version of yourself, you must learn to accept the worst parts, because they are inevitable.
Life is light that does not exist without the shadows; spring does not exist without winter.
That dichotomy is what truly creates us.
Judas is a representation of what it means to be human. Flawed.”