All Things Eternal (Book 2) (9 page)

“So you’re saying that Legion has an energy vampire on their team?” Maraona asked.

“No.” In the middle of the doorway, Emil stood clutching the boarders of the wall to maintain his balance.”There’s no way he’s with Legion…not unless in that moment he chose to go rouge.”

“Emil!” Marona gasped at the sight of the wounded hero, but Emil’s focus was placed elsewhere.

“I agree,” Skye added. “If he were with Legion, he wouldn’t have orchestrated an attack of that magnitude. In his area of effect, he included both members of the Vanguard and everyone else in the square. Aside from that, he told me personally that we weren’t his objective. He told me that he came only to deliver a message.”

“A message?” Emil softly spoke as he tried to piece the disfigured puzzle together in his mind. “To who?”

“King Arius…” Omari said with a calm certainty. “The propaganda spoon fed to the people indicated that this man here,” he gestured toward Eric, “was another Abnormal.
We
knew that wasn’t the case. The less informed had baseless information to go by as their truth.”

Emil shifted his eyes as he rummaged over all of the facts in his head before returning his gaze to Omari. “So going by that theory, he came to rescue Eric, just like us. If that’s the case, then why get the people involved?”

Omari’s eyes softened as he broke eye contact with Emil and gazed at the floor. “Because in his eyes, they are just as bad as the person they follow. In his eyes, he only saw them as savages waiting for blood to be spilled. To them, it seemed to be nothing but blood sport. A public execution that the people reveled for…”  Omari turned to the blacksmith. “There was no proof of your alleged deeds, were there?”

“No, there was none.” The blacksmith spoke sparingly, as if he, too, had lost faith in his people.

“When the people stand by evil, they become an extension of that very same thing. This rouge Abnormal saw them all as one for the sake of their principles. The people of Everrmore turned Eric in and were ready to watch him die, solely because of fear and hate. How can you see good in the midst of such an action or from anyone who supports it? That is the path the Abnormal has chosen to walk.”

“And that’s why he attacked us, isn’t it?” Emil asked.

“Correct. If what we think is true, because we stand by the same people who oppress us, we are in that sense, his enemy. But on the same front, he spared us because we are still his brothers and sisters by origin. If his cause is to rise against the oppression, then killing us would do nothing but make our numbers weaker.”

“But he would do it if he had to, wouldn’t he? I mean, he almost killed us without any sense of remorse. If Skye wasn’t there to heal us…the people would have killed us.” Emil stopped at the realization of what he’d just said, not afraid but bracing the truth. He looked to Marona with an unmarked sadness covering his face as he remembered the reality that was his own personal Hell roughly three months ago. Acceptance was a long ways off it seemed, and tolerance was only fine until the moment came to tip the scales without serious repercussions. Perhaps that was a secondary line in the rouge message. Loss and strife was a common element that plagued the lives of the three Abnormals in the room of the church. Omari, Skye, and Emil each had their own story riddled with turmoil and injustice that a normal human couldn’t even begin to comprehend. ‘They’ weren’t equal. And ‘they’ were punished and down trotted upon for simply wanting the life they were born to live. How had the Earth grown to be so cold, and since when did it become the norm to persecute those who wanted better for everyone around them?

“But Skye said that the rouge Abnormal manipulated their emotions. That’s how the whole skirmish began in the first place, right? There were others who wanted Eric to go free,” Marona said.

“That’s right. I did say that and it’s true, but it seems that he can only manipulate emotions that are already present. He can’t manipulate what’s not already there. He used their own hate for our people against them.
Nothing more. He merely brought what was hidden to the surface and amplified it. Some were not affected at all, like you. Others became crazed.”

“But not all of them were bad.”

“I agree. It’s wrong to group people together, no matter what the circumstance. We’re all human and with that comes a myriad of emotions. You are good, and so were a lot of the others at the square. Beneath the hatred and the rage, I felt them for what they truly are, even if at the time they were lost. The riot was deliberately caused by the rouge Abnormal, and given his abilities, I find it hard to place the blame on anybody but him.” Skye intently looked to Emil, making sure he saw her as she spoke.

“Yeah…you’re right, Skye. Thank you.”

Emil knew why Skye locked eyes with him, but her sympathy would do little in consolidation. What happened, happened. Their death was on his hands, no matter what. Emil knew that and it was something he had to accept—something he had to push deep down and struggle with in order to move forward. He had failed twice now. Witnessing the same catastrophe verbatim and only adding to the carnage. Even before that, Emil felt himself slipping into the anger and rage born from his misfortunes. The last time he felt the familiar flame that charged his soul, was the day he saw his second family die. When he thought about it, he could still feel the hot lump in the center of his chest aching for vengeance. The rouge Abnormal had touched Emil’s soul, resurrecting something the he would rather remain buried. “I’m going to look outside. There’s a space of time I’d like to account for.” Weary of the conversation, Emil moved past his comrades and the blacksmith they’d recently rescued. “Marona…” Emil paused as he spoke to Marona, looking straight ahead. “If you wanted to see what happened, now would be your chance.” Marona’s mouth slowly widened as she watched Emil move towards the giant shutters on the other side of the room. Ignoring the fire he felt in his abdomen, Emil swung open both sides of the door and walked out onto the balcony.

“Emil…” Marona arrived shortly after, and stood beside him as he rested on the railing. Even though the church stood on the outskirts of the town, the enclosed Hell that was now the city square was clearly visible. Marona flinched at the sudden uprising of smoke and flame that erupted from the core of the city, while Emil remained
unmoved. The screams of those from the square could be heard with the howling wind, only dying with the accompanying breeze. A testament to the events that occurred earlier that day. Marona she shifted her eyes to Emil, but he failed to look her way, focusing only on the rubble that lay in the distance. There was no need for words, for in that moment, she knew exactly how he felt. It was another Nerai.

Emil’s sudden silence was only because twice now, in his eyes, he had failed the people he’d chosen to protect. More so, the very ones he sought to defend, he ushered in death on his own behalf
.

You know how quickly they can turn, yourself. That is why you hide your face, is it not? Why protect those who would gladly throw you out to die? Only a fool protects the one who beats him.

DAMN YOU!

Don’t! The very people you aim to protect are in this crowd. With that much energy
, you would have killed them with ease.

Why do you protect these people? They don’t even care if you live or die.
Why does a God like yourself mingle with mere beasts? They cause baseless wars, they are fickle, they are ruthless, and…they make you weak, Emil.

As the voices of his past circled in Emil’s mind, he clenched the railing of the balcony and stared off into the space where the clock tower of Everrmore once stood. The fire that sprouted from the fallen tower was like a beacon, serving as a red flag as to the events that were sure to follow. The Abnormal they fought was different, but his mission was more or less the same. He swore against Legion and sought to bring down Arius. He wore no mask and was unafraid to demonstrate the limits of his powers. The rouge Abnormal was forming a rebellion of his own, a grand masquerade against the king and his followers, in spirit and in action.

Is this all there is now?
Death and destruction?
Emil raised his left hand from the railing and watched as a spark danced along the surface of his hand. The blue light that his palm emitted warmed his face as he studied the texture of his energy. “Marona…” Emil closed his palm and watched as the energy he held onto dissipated into the sky. “Are you afraid of us?”

“Emil, what do you mean?”

“From the days when you were a little girl, they’ve always said that Abnormals were nothing but monsters…demons with the appearance of mankind. Do you think that it’s true?”

“How could I?” Marona brashly responded, overshadowing the hurt she felt from Emil’s
question. “You, Omari, and Skye have done nothing but be there for me! Ever since I met you in the forest, I’ve been by your side! Skye and Omari saved my life! How could you even ask? I don’t care about what they say about you guys, or what anybody else says, for that matter. They’re a bunch of jackasses! We can live together…in harmony. No matter what they say, know that, Emil, and never forget.”

Emil squinted as an ominous wind blew by his face, hardening his gaze. It was cold and dead. The unwelcomed stench of soot and ash brushed underneath his nose, causing him to tuck his head in remission. “You’re right…I’m sorry.
And you, blacksmith? Are you afraid?” As if the wind itself had guided him, Emil turned his head back to where the blacksmith stood in the safety of the church. The slow burning fire in Emil’s eyes struck the blacksmith as he watched him from a far, leaving him momentarily at a loss for words as Emil waited for his response. “I see,” Emil responded softly as he shifted his body away from him. “Omari, what do we do now?”

“As we speak, reinforcements from the Vanguard are most likely on their way to provide relief to those still in the city square. A lot of civilians were wounded, along with their armed forces, so it would be wise to assume that their first priority is to stabilize that area and help those in need. As much as it hurts me to say, all we can do is
wait.” Omari’s brow visibly sunk deeper into his face, his distress adding years to his features. “Skye spent the majority of her energy tending to us…you only gained consciousness moments ago. None of us are in fighting condition, and the second we reveal who we are, we’ll be targets. With the extra soldiers and possible backing of Legion, our chances would be next to nothing. With our gifts, we could possibly help, but those very gifts would leave us as targets for the enemy. Our involvement in the long term would only hurt our efforts.”

Emil drew back from the conversation, heeding Omari’s words with the upmost respect, and turned back to the coming wind. Though their bond had grown stronger through their time together, there was much to Omari that Emil had yet to learn. His village was
attacked, the man he risked his life for viewed him with biased eyes, and after the events of today, the people he vowed to protect were certain to hate his kind even more. All these things transpired, but still, Omari stood in his quiet strength holding on to the dream that he hoped would someday become a reality.

Chapter 9: Omari’s Heart Part Three--Omari and the Saint

                 11 Years Ago

“Oh my, what lovely eyes you have. And what might your name be?”

“My name is Skye. Nice to meet you.”

“Well, Skye, you have the eyes of an angel and the elegance of one, as well,” the old man that towered over the duo said as he moved his hand closer to Skye’s cheek to brush aside the stray hairs that rested over her left eye.

“Fuck off, old man, she’s not for sale.” Omari batted the old man’s hand away from his sister and returned a glare to the old man who appeared too eager to get to know them. The old man winced and pulled back his hand, rubbing where Omari’s hand had bruised him.

“And what might your name be?” the old man asked with the same curiosity as he harbored for Skye.

“Who I am is none of your concern. Now leave us alone before I make you regret your life decisions, pervert.” With his hidden hand, Omari reached for the knife that rested snuggly in his back pocket, ready to use whatever force necessary to deter the man before him. Skye, noticing her brother’s uneasiness, glanced in Omari’s direction, silently broadcasting her concern.

“Nonsense!” the old man said as he crouched down to Omari’s level. “Everyone has a name, so out with it!” His old face bore a smile that heavily contrasted the frown that was forced upon Omari’s face. Life hadn’t treated him or Skye as fair as he had hoped.
The past months, rougher than the rest. For someone to go out of their way to talk to them while they sat was unprecedented in the slums. Outside of conmen, extortionists, robbers, and the like, words were often only out of strife.

Skye glanced at her brother again in hopes that her urgency could be felt from her expression. In what she was able to feel from the man, he was different from the others.
A good man.As she watched their exchange, she prayed that the world had not yet fully hardened her brothe
r
’
s heart to the people that inhabited it.

What’s his problem?
Omari thought to himself as he stared at the old man who was squatted to his level. The old man’s sincere eyes eased Omari for a moment, temporarily stripping him of his will to lash out at the man who questioned him. “My name… My name is Omari.” Omari exhaled. “What do you want with us?” Omari’s guard was still raised, denying the stranger any form of rapport. The old man smiled and stood to his feet, brushing off Omari’s brash attitude.

“Omari.”
He paused to reflect as the noon sun seemed to catch his eyes at the perfect angle. “Do you know what your name means?” The old man looked to Omari, his face still hard and unmoving. “Your name means God the highest…did you know that? Your parents picked a well fitted name. Speaking of which…” The old man’s face sunk as his wrinkles depressed across his forehead. “Where are they? Are they nearby?”

“No, it’s just us.”

“Oh my, you and your friend–”

“My sister,” Omari sternly blurted.

“You and your sister are out here all alone, huh? And for how long?” The old man studied Omari’s face as he waited for his answer. It was no secret that Omari and Skye were orphans that adopted the slums as their home. Their tattered clothing and dirty faces told the story that both of them were too resilient to tell.

“For as long as I can remember, but we’re just fine on our own,” Omari scowled. “If you’re so concerned, throw a few coins our way and leave us alone.” The door that Omari opened had shut just as quickly, locking both he and Skye away on the other side. Unmoved, the old man began to fumble through the pockets of his white garb until he managed to gather three gold coins. Omari’s smug expression lifted at the sight of the coins
that the old man held, and he instantly reached for them.

“They’re not yours yet,” the old man said as he pulled his hand back just short of Omari’s reach.

Damn it, old man.

“First, tell me why you haven’t enrolled into one of the shelters that the city offers. Surely, they’d provide a better life than one out here.
A roof over your head, a warm meal, a bed to sleep on. I’m sure your sister would appreciate it. These streets are not safe for a girl her age, or for you, for that matter.”

“The shelters wouldn’t take us. We tried but they turned their back to us,” Omari lied but it wasn’t a far shot from the truth. With Skye’s power not fully under control, a flare up would result in either her death or her being taken away. If the king’s men heard of her, he would then be forced to fight and reveal his gifts as well, solidifying their status as Abnormals. He’d rather live on the streets than risk losing her, the only family he had left. “Now can I have my money, sir?”

“They turned you away?” The old man’s frown deepened. “That’s most unfortunate…and you never thought to go back?”

“I’d rather not go where I’m unwanted.”

“Sometimes that is precisely where we must go.”

“Thanks for the words of wisdom. I’ll be sure to pin it up with all the other life lessons I get from perverts who prey on little girls.”

“Omari, stop it! You know he’s not like that!”

“So much anger, Omari.”
The old man compassionately sighed as the look of anguish surfaced across his face. “For you to be so young and cynical only shows me how unfavorable the world has treated you. But I ask, what example does your behavior set to your sister? Not all people in this world are bad, despite what you have come to know thus far in your life. Rejecting the kindness of others simply because of the transgressors of your past in no way to live life. If you stay on this road, Omari, tell me, what will become of it? These old eyes have seen so many like you in all walks of life. Don’t allow your anger to consume you. It’ll only blind you to all the good the world has to offer.” Omari growled under his breath when met with the old man’s sincere words, fully aware of the truth that his wisdom held.

“What’s it matter to you?”

“The people of this city have failed the both of you, myself included. I, like the many others of this place have turned a blind eye to those who suffer. Given my prior line of work, it’s most unacceptable. For awhile now, every so often when I passed through this part of town, I’d see the two of you, making it somehow, praying for the best, but never once have I intervened. In all my years I’ve devoted to helping others, I found myself aphetic to the cause in my old age, casting aside all that I’ve known and living my life in solitude, distraught from the cruelty of others. And for that, I’m sorry.” The tension that Omari fiercely clung to left his body, leaving him open to the old man’s heartfelt apology.

He’s…sorry?

“Beneath the calluses you carry on your heart, I see a beautiful spirit. The sacrifices you’ve made for your sister all these years and the hardships you’ve endured… I can see it in your face. You want the best for her, that is certain.” Omari gasped at the old man’s statement, unsure of what to believe. “In my hand I still hold these three gold coins, and they are gladly yours. If you so chose to take my gift and never see me again, I only ask that you don’t allow the world to crush your spirit as it once did mine.”

This doesn’t make any sense. Why would he g
o out of his way like this for…us?

Confused and shaken by the old
man’s kindness, Omari’s hand wavered as he slowly began to reach for the coins he so desired, skeptical of the possible repercussions. Three gold coins would be enough for a decent room and three meals a day for a week for him and his sister. As Omari’s hand grew closer to the coins, his eyes grew moist at the thought of a moment’s rest from the Hell he had been trapped in for most of his life.

Noticing Omari’s urgency, the old man gently pulled back his hand, enclosing the
coins within his palm. “However, there is a second option that exists as well.” Having his dream ripped from him almost brought tears to Omari’s eyes as the coins receded from his view.

“You and your sister can leave this money behind and live with me and serve as my stewards.
Your rooming and meals will be provided for at my property in Everrmore. It’s an old church not too far from here. In addition, you will both receive a weekly allowance for your services at the estate.”

“So you want us to be your servants?”

“Stewards,” the old man interjected. “There is a fine difference. If you two were to accept my offer, you’d be able to quit at anytime you see fit. No one is forcing anything of you. Your services will be of your own accord.”

“Why us?
Downtown, tons of people line up for work every day. If you’ve been here before, I’m sure you saw them.”

“Is there a reason that I shouldn’t? You are a prideful young man, Omari. I see a portion of myself from my younger days in you. I am an old man. Every day I grow weaker while the youth grow stronger. I require assistance in my frailty.”

“Humph. You don’t look too frail to me, old man,” Omari blurted with an air of skepticism.

“A life of harsh circumstances can toughen the body, but it wounds the soul. You see it. Your sister sees it, I’m sure. I only warn you because the path you risk facing is the same one I endured
…perhaps my situation is not ideal for you, but consider your sister at least, of all things.”

“
Wait! Can you give us a minute?”

“Certainly.”

Omari turned away from the old man and grabbed Skye’s hand as they briskly walked to a spot where they could talk in private.

“So what’s the verdict, Skye? I can’t get a good read on him. Did you see anything?” Omari said as he released her sister.

“He’s good…and you can stop being such a jerk to him. Not everyone is out to get us. Can’t you see that he’s trying to help? Even without my powers I can see that.”

“So you want to go with him?”

“Not just me, the both of us.”

“What about our powers? What if he finds out what we are?”

“We’re human…and I’ll be able to keep my powers in check. I’ve been better with them. He said that we could leave at anytime we wanted, so warp us away if we need to run, but I doubt he’ll be afraid even if we show our true colors. Either way, it’s our chance for something better, and we should take it. He has a good soul…and I don’t want to die out here.”

“Skye…” Omari saw the glimmer of hope that sparkled in his sister
’s eyes, shining once again after being dim for so long. “We’ll take the offer. I’m sorry for being so brash back there. I was just trying to look out for you. We’re all we got.”

“I know. But I think that’s going to be changing soon
,” Skye said as a smile began to emerge from the cracks of her lips.

Together
, the duo emerged from their brief discussion, eager to accept the old man’s offer.

“So what did the young lady say?”
the old man jested as he watched them approach.

“We’ll accept your offer, sir
,” Omari said as he bowed. “We shall serve as your stewards.” The old man chuckled at Omari’s grand gesture as he moved past him. “Bowing is not necessary my boy. Not necessary at all!” Omari’s cheeks grew flushed as he stared at the floor where he then saw Skye’s face cut in from beneath as she pointed and silently laughed, mocking her brother. “And sir is too formal. Silas will do, as will old man, seeing that you already have developed a preference. There is no use denying what I am.” Silas smirked at his own newly found amusement of the duo he had adopted into his care. “Pack your things. We head for Everrmore in the morning.”

***

And so it began—the mentor-ship between Omari, Skye, and the Saint, Silas. Moments after their agreement was made, provisions were made for each of them for a room to themselves at a local tavern for the night. Once there, both Omari and Skye were well accommodated, given the luxury of hot water that comforted the body and a fresh meal that soothed the soul. By the time night fell upon the tavern, Silas was able to rest easy knowing that he had changed the life of Omari and Skye for the better and with a little luck, forever.

As time moved forward
, Skye and Omari’s relationship with Silas grew. Under his nurturing care, their rough past became nothing but a shadow of their former lives, a reoccurring nightmare that haunted them no more. He was understanding, loving, and kind—a prime example of the theology he preached to the masses long ago when time was not against him. In the eight years that passed, Silas devoted the remainder of his life to teaching Omari and Skye all that he learned in his life through his travels and his studies, imparting the same spirit that resided within him.

***

“Old man, I’m ready for our training session today,” Omari said as he walked into Silas’s room, where he found him on his bed, resting near the window.

“After all these years, you still insist of calling me ‘old man.’” Silas began to laugh but a cough abruptly seized the moment from him. “I let you have your fun when you were younger, but now, I am indeed far past my prime. You’ve learned everything I’ve had to teach you and more. Even my old eyes can see that you’ve been going easy on me. You bested me months ago in our last session without much effort. My brittle bones can only endure so much, even with your sister’s touch, I age. Consider this our final session.” Omari said nothing in response to his teacher’s words. He knew Silas was right. He was old.
Very old. In the past, his old age rarely inhibited him from showing Omari and Skye the art of combat, but as Silas grew weaker, Omari and Skye grew stronger.