All Things Eternal (The Last Light Book 2) Read online

  “Already?” Skye sleepily responded as she sat up from her brother and rubbed her eyes.

  “Gloves,” Omari said dully. “Don’t forget to put them on before the people show up. Hand me the cup while you’re at it.”

  “Do I have to?” Skye whined as she groggily reached for the worn cup from their weathered supply bag and placed it at her brother’s feet.

  “Yes. If something happens, you know it could mean trouble. Not until you’ve got a better grasp on your abilities. When things settle down, you can take them off again. I know it sucks but it’s better to be safe than sorry,” Omari said as he pushed the cup forward, moving it closer to the entrance of their temporary home. When the people came, usually they’d drop some spare change and the like if they were feeling generous. The first wave came in the morning, the second, around lunch. By nightfall, people were mainly preoccupied with themselves or their families, so charity was few and far between.

  “Happy now?” Skye said as she flicked her wrist in her brother’s direction.

  “Delighted,” Omari said with a chuckle, his eyes overseeing the miserable landscape that he was ashamed to call home. Lost in thought, Omari surveyed the damaged housing and the muddy roads that entrenched them, the same theme that crept into his mind like an old melody that refused to be forgotten. Is there even a way out? With no family and their unique disposition, the thought of their future always left him without answer. In his heart, Omari always felt like maybe for he and Skye it would be different, but for so many others to meet their fate in a similar fashion, he often wondered what made him or her any different.

  “So, what’s the plan for today?” Skye asked with slanted brows, her soft expression clearing the murky waters that clouded Omari’s vision. “The usual, right? Best get to it.”

  “Yeah.” With a sudden awareness, Omari responded before staring at the worn, empty cup that rested at his feet. Mornings were usually when charity was at its highest. Beg till lunch and then get something to eat was usually the plan. In the meantime, thinking about ways to get out would come to mind whenever surviving drifted to the backline. After lunch, they’d try to catch another wave, which usually consisted of people grabbing for their own change after a well-deserved meal. God willing, they’d give, but only on occasion.

  With the extra taxes and penalties orchestrated by the king, poverty was the norm. The people, of course, longed for change but with the Vanguard practically at their throats, what should have been a scream was often times only released as a grumble, and even then there was a price to be paid. Saying the wrong thing to the wrong person often resulted into a beating or at least a regrettable encounter with the law. They were untouchable. A spiritual predecessor of the greater evil known as the king, overlord of the lower divisions. Work, struggle, live, survive, sleep. That was all there was to life, and with every day, the battle began yet again.

  Before long, the slum streets filled with life with the start of a new day. Over the passing hours, Omari watched as his cup steadily filled with coins and other items. The regulars would drop something off every now and then but were careful not to get attached. He and Skye knew them by face, but never by name. It was better that way. How else could one rationalize leaving two children on the side of the street unattended? Help while you can, when you can, but ultimately their lives rested in their own hands. That was the way of the slums.

  “Hey, we have enough now. Let’s get something to eat before it’s too late,” Omari said as he looked down into the half-filled cup that sat at his feet.

  “Okay. How are you feeling? Do you want me to go and get the food? I can get it for us. I know where to go.”

  “I’m fine. We can go together. It’ll be nice to go for a walk. It’s nice today considering the rain we had last night.” Omari knew better than to ever let Skye out of his sight. People were cruel, and even the most sincere of people were capable of the nastiest things given the right circumstances.

  “Hmm…”

  “What’s wrong, Skye?” Omari watched her as a look of concern spread across her face.

  “We’re going to pay back the store keeper from yesterday, right?”

  “Of course…plus extra. I think he has a family and they’re not doing to good.”

  The burden that was on Skye’s heart lifted at the sound of the good news, even though Omari confessed his plans with a torn heart.

  “Good! I thought you forgot about him.”

  “How could I?” Omari said as his gaze slipped from his sister and landed on the ground that rested between his worn boots. He remembered every blow that night. The hate the old man felt for him as well as the apathy he felt for himself. Enduring beatings for food wasn’t the life he had in mind, and if he let it, dwelling on his misfortune would only lead to more heartache. “Alright,” Omari said as he brushed the dirt from his tattered pants. “Let’s get a move on. Pack your things.”

  As Skye scrambled to secure her belongings, Omari grabbed their cup of coins before he stood to his feet. As he studied the cup, his eyes stared blankly at its contents as he jolted his wrist swiftly into the air. “Hmm.” His wrist fell down with the returning energy of the collective metal hitting the bottom of the container. Good. Looks like we have enough, and then some. “Any preference on what we eat today?” Omari asked Skye as she put the remnants of their belongings into the tan sack she would soon wear on her back.

  “No, not really. Just as long as we have enough for ourselves and for that man we stole from yesterday, I’ll be good.”

  “Right…don’t worry about that. Just leave it to me. But no preferences whatsoever?”

  “Nope. You know I’m not picky.”

  “Okay then. Come on.” Omari extended his hand to Skye and together they ventured out of their makeshift home and onto the city streets.

  As they traversed through the slums, Omari kept a wandering eye as he ventured out into the open. There were stares from all around, few of concern and a majority of disgust. To the outside world they were just two dirty kids walking the streets unattended. Another problem that was failed to be addressed by a failing system. Skye seemed to be oblivious to the glares, but Omari couldn’t shake the feeling that protruded from their piercing eyes. It was the feeling of being worthless that hurt him the most. Like a weight shackled to his feet, it plagued him ever since his parents abandoned him and his sister. In the years of hardship that followed, the chains only grew stronger, solidifying themselves to his persona.

  Driven by instinct alone, Omari began to walk faster as he felt a slow, smoldering hate begin to blossom in pit of his gut. In his mind, he began to walk a path he had long since ventured. How could they have left us in this shit hole? Fuck them. As he looked ahead, Omari no longer saw the incessant void that was the slums, but instead, a vision birthed by hate, guilt, and shame. A mirage of their parents the day they left them to fend for themselves. I don’t need them. I don’t need anybody! As the illusion faded, Omari was once again reunited with the judging faces that watched from afar. Let them watch. His passive expression sank downwards as he returned the very glare that offended him, all the while quickening his pace.

  “Oww, you’re hurting me!” Omari stopped and looked to Skye as she pulled her hand away from his. She massaged the lining of her palm as she studied him with questioning eyes. Omari said nothing but only because Skye already knew. In that moment, she felt what he felt and saw the storm that hovered over her brother’s heart.

  “I’m…sorry.”

  “It’s okay. I don’t like it when they stare, either,” Skye said as she reattached her hand to his. The rising storm that brewed left as quickly as it came, leaving only a singe of guilt as an afterthought.

  “Yeah…you too, huh?” Skye was a perceptive child. Just from reading Omari’s emotions, she was able to address what she thought was the root of her brother’s problems. It was a good guess, but the lingering pain was not from the bystanders but from his own resentment for not tellin
g Skye that they were abandoned. In all of his years, Omari never had the heart to confront the demon that taunted him in the night and let it mingle to its own devices. Originally, he did it to spare her emotions, but as he grew, he often speculated if his actions were to truly save her or instead to protect himself. It would kill him to watch her face turn as he told her about the note or the sudden disappearance. It would destroy any child to know that they were unloved and thought to be an affliction. That’s why he lied to her. The story he told her was that they died for their sake, an epic last stand against the ones who threatened to take their children’s lives so that they could escape.

  It always left a bitter taste in Omari’s. The lies sat well when Skye was younger, but now, perhaps she knew. From time to time, Omari wondered but never dared to turn that stone. They rarely talked about them now, but when they did, Omari was always sure to keep the conversation brief. He could tell that she idolized them, or at least wanted to, but Omari found no comfort in his lie. At the very least, he was satisfied that the world had not yet tainted his sister’s heart.

  “Mhm. I don’t worry about it,” Skye said as she smiled. “I just focus on the good in the world.”

  “Oh, really?” Omari said as they both continued to walk. “And what is that?”

  “Well,” Skye tilted her head back, letting her dark hair fully extend past her shoulders as she looked up at the shining sun, “the sun’s shining. The birds are singing. The leaves are green…um, I’m okay, and you’re okay…I know people can be mean out here but for every bad person in the world, I’m sure there’s two more that are good. Just trust me on this, I feel it.”

  “Yeah, I feel it, too.”

  “Don’t call me crazy, but I had this dream one night that everything was okay. We were older and happier and everything was alright. I’m not stupid. I know things are bad, but when I have dreams like that one, it keeps me going. One day this will all be over, and we won’t have to worry ever again.”

  Chapter 8: What Was Lost

  “Skye?!” Amidst the rubble and ash, Omari gasped as he returned from the coma he had been subjected to. The world had transformed in his absence, no longer barring any resemblance to the place he called home. Omari violently coughed as he forcefully expelled the soot that had filtered through his mask and rested in his lungs. “Skye, what happened?” Skye ignored his question as she shakily rose to her feet, drained from her exhaustion.

  “I’ve…got to get to Emil.” The words lagged from her mouth as she left her brother where he laid.

  “…Emil?” As Skye grew closer to Emil’s body, Omari lethargically rose to behold the destruction of his city. The city square was unrecognizable; a wasteland riddled with the dead and the dying and scattered debris. The crackling fire that blazed in the background rang in his ears like an untraceable audience, clapping with approval at his sudden defeat. “How…” Omari whispered as he slumped over. “How could this have happened?” He tilted his head up to the heavens but the sky was darkened by the ash and smoke that filled the sky. “How did they know?” Omari sluggishly began to walk towards his sister, bracing his wounded abdomen with his right arm as he stumbled through the filth of the land. “It was that man who did this…where did he go?” Omari said tensely as he called out to Skye who was now laying her hands on Emil.

  “I don’t know,” Skye said as she turned to face her brother. “He left.”

  “Where did he go, Skye?” Omari roared as he looked to her. Skye turned to her brother again, displaced by the anger that bubbled underneath his black uniform. She watched him as his body flared with every breath he took; knowing the pain he felt from within surmounted the damage already done to his body. “W-we can still catch up to him. We can sti—”

  “He could have easily killed us if he wanted too… Instead he said he only came to deliver a message. It’s over. Let it go.”

  Beneath his mask, Omari’s eyes began to well up with tears as he caught a glimpse of the destroyed clock tower that lay in the background. The fires that sprung from the decimated structure served as a centerpiece for a morbid painting, splashed with agony and remorse, accented with the faint cries of those buried underneath.

  Damn it. I...

  Instantaneously, Omari warped to the base of the burning tombstone using the people’s screams as his guide. From underneath the rubble, Omari watched as the fire bled through the array of crushed limbs and burnt blood. “Don’t worry! I’ll get to you as fast as I can!”

  Skye kept her attention split between her brother and Emil as she watched from where Emil lay. It hurt to see her brother broken, but in her current state, she was powerless to do anything for him. Omari, it’s not your fault.

  “Can you hear me!? I’ll get to you!” Omari, yelled as he began to part the rubble that crushed the innocents who rested underneath. Piece by piece, Omari tapped into his remaining strength to free those that he heard beyond the burning flames. Inch by inch, he hastily made his way deeper and deeper into the heart of the destruction until the voice of those he heard resonated clearly with him. Almost there.

  From atop the burning building, a mound of debris shifted forward, sprinkling shards of fragmented metal and concrete on top of him, but Omari continued his mission, oblivious to the outside world. As the mound shifted overhead, a slab of concrete broke from the top of the building, but Omari wasn’t the wiser.

  “Omari!” Through her eyes, Skye watched as the burning javelin descended above her brother’s head.

  Shaken by his sister’s shriek, Omari looked to the sky and bared witness to the pillar of fire that hurdled his way. Without a second to spare, Omari jumped back and fell to the ground as the slab of concrete plunged into the earth in front of him, splitting the ground and separating him further from the voices he heard within the flames. “Damn it!” Wasting no time, Omari stood, stepped to the smoldering stone, and gripped his hands to the right where the fire had not yet touched. There’s… still…time. “Rah!” Omari grunted as he tried to move the massive structure, but the construct was slow to respond. Damn it, I’m spent. Omari pulled back against the fallen infrastructure with all of his might but the structure barely moved. “Rahhh!” As Omari screamed, he felt the fibers in his abdomen tear in tandem with his failing strength, slowly reversing the minor healing Skye had already done. I’ve got to save them.

  In the distance, amongst the bodies and rubble, a member of the Vanguard awoke in the midst of the aftermath. Rather than die a peaceful death, the solider instead reached for a crossbow dropped by his comrade in the heat of battle. With his sights set on Omari, the fallen warrior took aim as he covertly lined the shot that would leave one less threat to King Arius’s rule.

  At the pull of the trigger, the steel-tipped bolt cut through the air with unmatched velocity, zipping past Skye’s field of vision and towards her distracted brother.

  Sensing a change in his atmosphere, Omari dropped his shoulder but the arrow traveled faster than his body could respond. The head of the arrow penetrated through Omari’s armor and pierced through the top of his shoulder blade. The slab of stone he desperately clung to dropped as he rushed to cradle his wounded shoulder. In front of him, the arrow adhered itself to the stone exterior of the wall, coated with the fabric of his armor and his own blood. Omari turned and instantly locked-in on the armored assailant, separating him from the countless other bodies that littered the land. The solider fired another shot from his bow, but Omari was gone before the arrow could find its mark.

  A wisp of dust and debris kicked into the wounded soldier’s face as he found himself mere inches away from the man he’d tried to kill. “S-stay back!” the solider yelled as his shaking hand struggled to load another bolt into his bow. Omari studied the face of the man who wished to kill him; taking note of the expression the man held in his eyes. His ferocity was bathed in fear, drenched in paranoia. The look in his eyes was that of a man desperate to survive. A wounded soul forced to fight for both himself and the on
es he loved. Omari dropped his right hand from his shoulder, allowing the blood that poured from his shoulder to flow unrestricted. “Oh, you think you’re tough, you demon scum!” the soldier roared as he shifted his eyes between Omari and his bow. “I’m going to send you back to wherever the hell you came from!”

  “Do you have family, too?” The marksman flinched as Omari raised his hand to remove the garment that covered his face. Beneath the shroud, his blonde hair was dyed crimson, contrasting against his hazel eyes that pierced through the man’s soul. The marksman’s finger rested on the trigger, ready to fire at the slightest hint of aggression, but there was none to be found. “As you can see, I bleed just as you do. Death is something we must both come to terms with eventually. Let it be on another day.”

  The foot soldier was left lost for words as he laid before the bleeding hero. In awe, he watched the blood that streamed down from Omari’s shoulder bend along the contours of his armor and down to his fingertips, where it fed into a slow drip that pooled onto the land plagued with death.

  In the distance, Skye watched as her brother stood in front the armed man, unaware of the full nature of the situation. Most of her attention had been devoted to Emil and restoring him from his critical condition.

  As if he himself had reached an epiphany, the soldier slowly lowered his weapon from Omari’s chest. He remembered now. The actions he committed against the very people he had sworn to protect, both before and after the rouge Abnormal’s influence. “We are people, too. And as there are good people, there are also bad people. No king is needed to discern that.” Omari turned away from the soldier and began to walk towards Skye and Emil. “When the re-enforcements arrive, tell them to be sure to check the remains of the clock tower for bodies. I couldn’t get to them in time.”

  “I…” The mouth of the soldier widened as he struggled to speak, but in the time that passed, Omari was no longer within earshot. The wounded soldier watched as Omari reunited with Skye and Emil before warping them to the old church at the edge of the city, leaving what was lost, behind.