Series: Anointed/Setting Sun/Decay 2/2

Chapter 6 continued...



Gabren made his way down the dark blue halls, following the symphony of clashing metal ringing throughout the vacant kingdom. When he opened the doors, he found himself in a spacious room that could fit an entire auditorium. The floor was tiled blue and a velvet red carpet ran in the center. Ten yards away from the rug, stone columns towered above.

This was once the throne room for the Zorians. Many jesters and actors prepared for the audience of Royals in this very room. Thousands once fit inside.

Now only two instrumentalists responsible for the songs of violence—Murdor and Kila—remained. Their instrument—two long, slender blades—held in the other’s hand.

Gabren watched with utmost amusement as the blood brothers were at it again. Their pace and force against the other’s blade made them seem ready to kill and Gabren wasn’t about to doubt that implication.

Murdor was the stronger one compared to Kila. He bore so much muscle that Gabren could see their veins a yard away. His little brother—wisely—kept close to him with quick parries, knowing of his deadly long-range attacks.

Kila, though slightly smaller than his older brother, had a fighting chance. He was slender and lithe, each inch of movement predetermined and controlled. He was not as bulky but just as fit. His agility outweighed his older brother’s and made their fight of appealing equality.   

Gabren had to grin as he recalled the relative’s way of living. They knew nothing of love and family. True demons—like Kila and Murdor—only knew power and lust, and when both brothers were at an acceptable age, they attempted to kill their parents—just to see which was stronger. In the end, the brothers were.

Then they realized they had yet to decide the strongest. With their relatives left dead by their teamwork, the only way to exult the strongest was to see which could kill the other. However, when they turned on each other, they always came to a tie.

Though Kila was quick in response to Murdor’s lunging, the might of his brother pushed him back with every blow.

As Kila met his blade with his brother’s, Murdor pushed back the opposition with no restraint. To Kila’s great fury his brother still kept the title of the Titan. Every ounce of strength he used against the monster seemed put to waste.

Murdor smiled smugly, without a hint of infliction. He pushed Kila back effortlessly, like he was moving Styrofoam. He could have rushed the Predator right into the column if he wanted to. But that wouldn’t have been any fun.

No. He had to relish every slow step toward the death of his brother.

Snarls of protest came from Kila’s throat as his muscles tightened with all his fury—an expression only heard and seen but not at all felt by Murdor in the least.

As Kila’s back pressed against the column, Murdor twisted the pressed blades and sent Kila’s from out of his hand, the clanging of metal ringing out as the weapon hit the tiled floor.

Gabren watched in fascination as Murdor let out a sickening cackle. Finally the question on who was the strongest was about to be answered.

“Guess a Predator can’t fend off the Titan,” Murdor declared within his series of guffaws.

Fleeting horror in Kila’s eyes quickly diminished as his lips curled up in a smirk. The black hand of Kila’s suddenly stretched to the top of the monolith, its clawed nails embedding themselves in the rock like a grappling-hook. The elastic arm of Kila’s retracted and pulled him to the top within seconds.

As soon as Murdor’s blade hit the floor, Kila jumped from the stone monument and snickered in his silky voice. As he fell, his claws neared the top of Murdor’s shoulder. “If you’re the Titan, dear brother,” Kila chuckled as his nails plummeted down with precision. “I suppose this makes me Zeus.”

“That’s enough…” Phanto’s voice demanded.

Kila’s grin vanished from his face and the horror, he had experienced not so long ago, came back with twice as much force. Gracefully, he landed on his feet, his claws only inches from the top of his brother’s shoulder.

It was only at that point did he realize his brother’s position. His brother’s arm folded across his chest, its hand wedged between his other arm and waist, the gun ready to fire at impact. By the time his claws sliced his brother’s shoulder, Murdor would have been able to shoot him dead. Both would have tied like many times before. Only this time, their tie would have been their last.

It only took a millisecond to realize all this. And in those remaining seconds equivalent to a minute, his body spent it in agony as neon green flames surrounded him.

He howled in pain, with his brother—implying that he was not the only demon going through punishment.

Gabren watched in terror as the flames engulfed the siblings during Phanto’s indifferent stare. He forced his gaze to the ground as he caught a glimpse of Phanto’s apathetic expression during the cries and pleas of his victims.

Finally the flames—and the screams—died out, the monotone voice of Phanto breaking the silence.

“Why can you brothers not understand my commandments…? You two may do away with the other after the capture of the ANOINTED…  How many times am I to repeat this…?”

Kila climbed only to his knees, bowing. “Forgive us, my lord.”

Lucky for the brothers, Phanto had his own demands to follow—all from Lucifer himself. The only allowance for the two’s death, was if it had been done by the hands of their enemies.

Phanto gave one nod of dismissal towards the two. He then gave his attention to Gabren, his unwavering eyes piercing towards him. “I see you survived your time on Nebulan… Your rank doesn’t give you enough credit…”

Gabren swallowed the bile in his throat, fighting the rumble of a growl—an action that would have resulted in his sudden—probably excruciating—death. Unlike the brothers, Lucifer gave no orders to his sake. He forced a bow, ignoring the implied disappointment in Phanto’s words. “Thank you, lord Phanto.

“I actually have a question regarding my venture last night. Will you allow my inquiry?” Not wanting to die just yet, Gabren fought another growl. All this polite crap irritated him tremendously. To be so nice to someone you wanted dead…

“You have my pardon… Speak…”

Again, Gabren was reminded how low he was considered to Phanto and, once more, he wanted to lunge at him. He fought back the urge, understanding the uselessness his attacks would have provided. After all, you couldn’t kill what you couldn’t touch. “What was my purpose—the totality of me bearing the location?”

“The story is too long for my felicity… In short, Warpup has slightly released Jet’s power in result of your coordinating… Can you not sense it…?”

Gabren paused with Phanto, closing his eyes in response. Instantly, he could sense the ANOINTED’S location.

How could he not have felt this?! Jet’s aura seemed to pull at Gabren now. His body felt like it was defying the laws of gravity as he remained on his feet and didn’t inch closer. With every angle of movement, and distance made by Jet, the gravitational pull would alter as well.

“However…” Phanto said, Gabren opening his eyes to see the phantom’s back faced to him. The ghost seemed occupied by a thought as he looked in the direction of the evident pull. “Adonai has placed a seal in this aura as well… By a day, our senses will grow numb to the pull… Zoldar plans to use my portal before then…”

Gabren’s eyes widened as his gaze looked out at nothing, his body frozen in shock. “You mean… the portal to…that…realm,” he choked. He had so many memories of that area—not one was good.

Phanto nodded. “But the portal feeds off of negative energy… Only when the target experiences the darkness of their heart, will the realm be open to them…”

His solid gaze scanned the three demon’s, stopping at Murdor. “We need two guarding the bracelet.”

Gabren had to register their lord’s words. What did the bracelet have to do with the Realm of Nightmares? Was that where it had been for so long?

But if Jet was being sent to that area too… Without thinking, Gabren snarled. “Why would we bring Jet to where the bracelet is? That’s just STUPID!”

He immediately regretted his outburst as Phanto glided in front of him. He fell to his knees, constantly begging for his forgiveness.

Phanto’s cold stare left the graveling Gabren and looked towards the pull of the Nebulanian as he spoke. “The bracelet will pull Jet towards it the way his power pulls us towards him… One may think it’s half-witted to let him feel that pull…”

Gabren was careful with his words this time, climbing to a stand slowly. “So… Why...my lord—why give him that chance?”

“He has no chance…” Phanto’s gaze of apathy fell back to Gabren. “The bracelet will be guarded by two demons… The pull will be the bait for his ultimate demise…”

Gabren’s lips slowly curled up into a cruel grin as he actually started to think about it. The boy’s power to stop them hasn’t been released yet. Despite his little gain of power, he’d still be a pushover. There was no way he’d get through the two guards.

To Gabren’s great joy, Phanto spoke another command, “Gabren will guard the bracelet with Murdor.”

Murdor wasn’t as jubilant. “What?! Why Gabren?” he demanded.

Phanto’s steeled gaze of red shot towards Murdor—who instantly bowed his head for forgiveness. “My apologies, my lord.”

Phanto narrowed his beaming eyes. “Your brother is out of the question… I have seen too well how you react to each other when left alone…”

“But… What about you, my lord?” Murdor pressed, raising his head up to meet the stone hard gaze of Phanto, his eyes desperate. “Please, my lord, anything but the low rank!”

A feral growl rumbled from Gabren’s throat. The demons ignored his protest.

“I have another matter to take care of…” Phanto answered.

“What matter, my lord?”

“One of great importance… The gathering of the Nebulanian’s transgressions…”

A silence fell among the room. “However…”

Again, it was quite.

“However?” Murdor prodded in a hopeful tone.

“Zoldar and I will be in the deepest chamber of the realm… If something goes wrong, report back to us…”

Kila stepped forward in apprehension. “And what of me, my lord? What will you have me do?”

“You will stay at a distance, Kila… Otherwise, you’ll kill Murdor… And that does not benefit in our plans…”

After much thought, Phanto answered. “Guard the halls…”

He ignored Kila’s dismay and looked at his other subjects. “You know your positions… Move…”





Jet ate his food quietly, intentionally not meeting his mother’s eyes that he felt flicker warily towards him. She shifted in her seat awkwardly, eating the food prepared for her. Furdanin remained quiet as well—probably consoling his BLESSED’S thoughts—and the only noise heard at the table was the humming and grumbling of Sket’s noisy chewing.

It was futile to hope for a casual morning—especially considering what today was to his parents: The day of his despair, the day of great disappointment. How could anyone possibly celebrate such horrid memories?

While that no longer applied to Jet, it did to his family. And while greatly tempted, he knew in his heart of hearts that he was not to tell his family of the changes he undergone—not yet, anyways.

Was this going to be the pattern though? Could he only inflict people with wounds to insure their safety?

Irony loved him—he had bitter proof. Firstly, his family ate their breakfast quietly—not regarding Sket, of course—and silently lamented over a day that should be filled with joy. Secondly, the only thing he could keep doing is leave people in pain to keep them safe.

Jet scanned the downtrodden family with acidic eyes. Irony’s affections were one sided. He loathed these ironic conditions and couldn’t wait until they became void.  Only one more day… Then he’d be able to make this day of the week good again—a day worth celebrating—a day without the despised irony.

The family kept eating without a word. Until tomorrow came this would be the date the family would frown upon.

Finally, a word came from at least someone. “Jet…” Christiana called in a broken voice.

One look in her eyes was all it took—Jet already foresaw where she was heading. And he didn’t like the need for suggestion one bit. Did she really think he wouldn’t?

“Please… for me…”

Here it comes…

She could see the disapproval in his countenance but remained firm on her intentions. “Please invite your classmates.”

A long breath of aggravation fell from her son’s lips—he, too, seemed firm in his intentions. He mentioned it on his last birthday and many times after when asked: He hated the day. He never wanted to be reminded about it again and yet she was begging for him to celebrate. Of course he’d be upset. It was expected.

But Jet’s aggravation was for a completely different reason; he was annoyed with himself—angered at his previous words of heartbreak that ultimately broke his family as well. He traumatized the family so badly, that his mother thought it necessary to ask such a thing.

He almost jumped at the invitation cards she started pulling out—he’d invite the whole school if that helped the family strive through the day. But he remained in his chair, now quietly considering the ending results. If no one accepted his invitation,—which is a high probability in Jet’s position—the family would mourn all the more at his apparent loss.

He had planned to invite people anyways but now that he saw the pain his family was bearing, could he afford to take the chance of rejection?

He wasn’t about to find out. He rolled his eyes and looked away. “They’ll say no. It’s going to be a waste.”

Again, he couldn’t help realizing irony’s presence. His mother’s pleading request—a request he was already planning on fulfilling before—had become the very reason for his objection to the idea. 

“Please… I’m begging you, Jet. At least try.” Christiana implored, her voiced laced in agony at his answer.

If nothing else, his mother was persistent. How on Nebulan would he get out of this one? Were they destined to bear more remorse?

Luckily, Sket had finished his food and fell attentive to the solemn pleas. “Don’t sweat it, guys.” Then, a crooked smile curled on his face. He only wore such an impish expression when he had something big planned—the same smile he wore after pulling his pranks on people. “I’ve got a sure-fire way to fix this. I’ll personally see to it the entire school will accept his invitation.”

During his proclamation, he swiped the notebook cards held out for Jet and began placing them in the side pocket of his book bag.

Finally, Furdinan spoke. “That’s such a bold statement, son… Can you really do it?”

His father was doubtful he could, until Sket turned and spoke with his mischievous grin. “Go buy a lot of food for the party, because tonight you’ll have a lot of hungry stomachs to feed.” 

   



Jet’s nose twitched as he found scents unfamiliar to him: Such as the musk of the woods and dirt path, along with the bland, yet distinct smell of the animals inhabiting the area.

Finding he had time, he spent it in exploration. He stopped and listened to anything behind him. He heard the shuffling of a bird’s feet against pine straw, the sound of three little chirps over a flailing worm flinging the air in a noise-filled current. In a matter of seconds, Jet could tell a bird was feeding her young ten yards behind him.     

He continued his walk, watching a golden butterfly—a football length ahead of him—flutter towards a small yellow jasmine. He could hear the sound of its fluttering wings in the wind, along with the sound of slurping being made by the insect’s ingestion of nectar. His nose delighted over the sweet smell.

Apparently one hundred yards was his limit. He didn’t notice the two deer a few feet behind the butterfly, until he walked forward a few feet himself.

The woods now seemed musical to him. The hearts of all creatures within his one hundred yard radius drummed rhythmically, some faster than others—the deer’s fast with alarm as it probably had caught his scent as well, the sound of hooves on green grass galloping in Jet’s ears, the noise fading bit by bit as they fled.

After exploring, he came up with his limit of recognition. The butterfly was in front of him as he stopped to focus on the birds behind. Only when he focused in front did he recognize the butterfly. It would seem he’d have to focus on the direction to fully sense a presence within one hundred yards.

He decided the time had come to stop exploring—rather, experimenting—and head to school. To ensure he wouldn’t be late, he decided to run full speed—not expecting the result to be so intense.

His legs moved quicker than his mind’s comprehension. For a human, the colorful green and brown of the woods should have meshed at such frightening speed.

Not for Jet and his increased sense. The woods were still bright and vibrant and Jet could see, hear, and smell every object around him. His strides were powerful and his legs—to a human’s perception—moved in a blur.

His energy remained boundless regardless of such ”blinding” speeds.

Despite his even breathing, his smile was ecstatic. He screamed in joyous adrenaline. The roar sent a flock of birds flying, their hearts hammering frantically as they flew overhead.

His leg muscles tightened as he prepared for a gleeful jump. When his legs recoiled, he shot up to the sky, soaring up higher than the trees, and the fleeting birds. The momentum of his speed caused him to seemingly fly over the trees.

Jet was happy with the launch but wasn’t looking forward to—nor thinking about—the fall after. Could he survive at such a distance? He was as a high as the Earthian’s empire state building.  Even if he landed with grace, was his body hard and strong enough to support the landing?

The pathway was still clear view, despite his amazing height. The ground may as well have been coming at him in slow motion. Already, he saw how he should land and angled his body with pin point precision.

His feet touched the ground with the faintest of sounds. Not a single muscle ached, not one broken bone or fracture occurred. His vitality and durability was unbelievable. He hadn’t broken a sweat or gained a single bruise. Jet turned to look up at the sky he once glided in. No regular Nebulanian could do what he had just done. He checked himself once more then grinned. PE class was going to be fun for a change.

                       

Maybe exploring his Gift was a bad idea. The instance he realized his capabilities, he had a hard time holding back and hiding his power from his classmates. He had to focus on every step he took and ensure it was moving in an “average” speed. To Jet, though, “average speed” seemed like the slowest pace you could possibly reach. All that boundless energy stirred in frustration at his slow jog.

After a gruesome five minutes—which could have been done in seconds¬—he found himself nearing Crystal’s locker.

Unfortunately, he also found Electro waiting for him too. Apparently, even bullies knew how to get to school early, though Jet doubted seriously Electro was gunning for the best attendance award. The bully’s motive was clear: Keep Jet and Crystal away.

Luckily, Electro’s back was facing the approaching Jet. In this encounter of luck, Jet had some time to think through his next actions. Jet inhaled with his nose, welcoming the new scents ebbing off of Electro. A sour and metallic aroma rushed through his nostrils and imprinted itself in Jet’s memory.

If he couldn’t fight the bully off then he’d just track Electro with his nose. The second Electro’s scent faded away from the lockers, Jet would know and make his move. He really couldn’t have asked for a better GIFT.

“Hey, Jet,” a voice whispered from behind.

A familiar mesh of banana and green apple wafted from behind him. He turned towards the familiar scent to confirm his premonition, confirming it as he locked eyes with his sister exiting the choir room. “Christiane? What are you still doing in here?”

Christiane glared. “Yeah… Good to see you too!” she snapped, folding her arms and looking away, obviously offended.

“You know what I mean!”

“I stayed to practice my singing. When I asked the teacher, she said it was okay as long as I wasn’t late for first period. You have a problem with that?”

Once again, his sister was taking things to the extreme. If she was offended just a little, def con five wasn’t far off. “Alright, sis, cool it. I was just curious. You don’t have to bite my head off about it.”

After the argument with his sibling, his mind kept on the bully’s immovable scent. It had seemed that Electro was planning to stay there until the bell rang… If only there was some form of distraction… Sadly, Jet knew the only distraction for Electro would be the sound of himself. He believed even the fire alarm wouldn’t pull him away from his post. 

Jet could easily pull him away, but the results might be too costly. He could call Electro’s name with his voice and stay a hallway away from Electro with each call. When Electro was far enough, he could take the other route and beat Electro to the locker with his newfound speed. Problem was… His powers signaled his position for the demons. He’d be endangering millions of lives just to get his present to Crystal. If only there was a way to use my voice and still not use my powers…

“Hello~? Nebulan to Jet. Are you in there? Come in, Jet.” Christiane called repeatedly, annoyance thick in her voice.

When Jet focused back on his sister’s waving hand, he looked at her and widened his eyes as everything came together. “Christiane! Can ask you for a huge favor?”

She gave a jolt at the sudden burst of energy. Her brows furrowed together as she answered his question with careful scrutiny. “What kind of favor?”

His plan was bullet-proof. Christiane was as daring as Sket and enjoyed challenges. She also looked up to Sket and his pranks, pulling pranks of her own from time to time. Jet grew an impish grin. “You up for a challenge, sis?”

“What kind of challenge?” she asked again, her expression more intrigued than before.

Jet nodded toward the bully standing by the locker. “See that guy over there?”

Christiane peeked over Jet and watched the man stand intently at his post. “The fat one?”

Jet’s lips made a hard line as he pressed them together tightly, sealing his laughter that threatened to escape. “That’s him. He’s Electro. Everyone in my grade knows him to be the strongest and most feared kid in school. Think you can drop his reputation down a notch?”

Christiane grinned along with Jet. About time her brother showed some family resemblance. “What do you have in mind?” she inquired with the utmost interest.

“He’s waiting for me. Nothing will get him away from that locker except my voice and Crystal’s. You think you can fool him and take him to first period with you? I’ll give you five bucks if you can get him to go into your classroom.” Now not only did she have a challenge and an opportune moment for a good prank, but there was profit in her venture as well. There’s no way she’d say no now.

“You’re on, bro. Watch a master at work.” She walked towards the unsuspecting Electro.

Electro stood impatiently, waiting for any sign of Jet. Where was that stupid twerp? It wasn’t like him to give up so easily.

“Is it true you’re keeping Jet away from Crystal?” Christiane asked in a casual tone.

Jet couldn’t believe the words coming out of her mouth. She knew? She knew Electro’s reason for standing there? But why was she helping him?

Electro glared at Jet’s sister as she asked if he was trying to block Jet from Crystal. “What’s it to ya, brat?”

“Well~… If you really want to know, I saw them hand-in-hand in the hallways.”

“You what?! Where?!”

She rolled her eyes. “I just told you. In the hallways.”

Electro felt like such an idiot. Here he was, standing in this hallway for no reason at all… Ironically, the two were together because he remained at his post.

His eyes found the girl’s cocky grin. Her expression told him she knew more and wasn’t in the mood to tell. The brat!  If he had to force the information out, he would. Preschooler’s like her were no match for him. People with GIFTS trembled at his name. Perhaps it was time to show this smug girl just exactly who she was dealing with. “Now listen here you—”

Christiane smiled darkly and raised a finger to her pursed lips during the middle of his intended threat. “Shh. I think I can hear them. Listen.”

Electro stopped and listened intently. Sure enough, he heard the laughter of Jet and Crystal not far off in the other hallway. “Those little turds!” He then charged for the next hallway, leaving the smirking girl in that instance. “I’ll teach them what happens when they defy the great Electro!”

Jet’s lips curved into a soft smile. He had thought Christiane was in this just for the challenge. But apparently, she genuinely wanted to help. She understood the circumstances and still agreed to the challenge, knowing he would get to give his gift to Crystal and ultimately restore their relationship.

Jet’s smile grew as his markings glowed brightly with hers. Christiane… Thank you.

Please, don’t get mushy on me, Jet… You still owe me five bucks. Her head turned and she winked at her brother before following the poor sap down the halls and steps to her class. As she followed his chase, she altered the sound of laughter to concern and made noises that led to Electro thinking of them running from his pursuit. This was going to be like taking candy from a baby.

As Chrsitiane left the halls to follow the brute, Jet approached Crystal’s locker with inattentiveness. What was there to be alert of, now that Electro was out of the picture? Now, his focus was solely on the locker, unaware of the foreboding figure coming out of the door behind.

As he turned the black notch of Crystal’s lock to get to the combination they thought up together, a voice snapped from behind him, “Just what kind of person goes through someone’s belongings without asking?”

Jet whirled around, facing exactly who he was praying not to run into: Crystal. She had a fierce glare—almost burning of hatred. Jet tried to avoid this as best he could; running into Crystal. He hurt her badly without reason so he knew her recoil wasn’t going to be pretty. “You have no right whatsoever!”

She watched as Jet growled in frustration. “Give me a break, Cryst! Since when have you had a problem of me going in your locker?!”

She glared at him. How dare he waltz in here and pretend last night didn’t happen! Like he could just break her heart and pretend everything was peachy keen…

“Since that night when are promise became void!” Anyone would notice her glare but Jet would be the only one to notice her moist eyes beneath the glare. She was hurting and had been trying so hard to let her anger overrule her pain. She squeezed her eyes shut as her lips trembled. “How could you…?” he heard her choke, evidently unable to hide her infliction any longer.

“Cryst, I didn’t mean—” There was that name again—the name she used to delight in him using, the name he used when he was her best friend. It was amazing how a title that made her so happy in the past could bring her so much grief in the present.

“Don’t you dare call me by that name!” she cried. Jet noticed two hot tears rolling down her cheeks as she was glaring directly at him. Her expression was almost physically painful to see. “Only my best friend can call me that!” she sobbed. Her expression grew numb as she looked away, like she was talking to her self now—convincing herself. “And he’s long gone…”

Jet couldn’t take anymore of this! Her expression, her cries—the very sound and sight of her despair tore him in two. He reached for her shoulders to look her in the eyes.

“Crystal…” Even that title broke her inside. It was like the confirmation to her claim—that Jet and her were no longer best friends.  “Please… You have to understand…” His eyes begged for her to hear him out. She jerked away from his hands, glowering at him. Although she rejected his touch, she folded her arms impatiently, gesturing him to continue. “I did it for you… There’s so many problems in my life now… If we weren’t a part of each other’s life, we wouldn’t have to deal with the other’s problems. Because of that, I just…”—he frowned at a thought—“knew, someday in the future, you’d be happier without me.”

“Stupid!” Jet flinched at her fury, looking down in shame. “Didn’t you notice how excited I was to see you? You have no idea how much I missed you this past year…

“I thought I never would have to say this—I thought it was obvious: Jet…my happiness…”

Crystal’s cheeks flushed pink. She quickly turned her expression away from him, embarrassed at her confession.

“The only time I’ve been my happiest…was when I…was with you.”

She could feel her cheeks burning red, and then she had to scrunch her face up to fight off more tears. In the end, that was what it was all about—her happiness; it had nothing to do with his feelings. If we weren’t a part of each other’s life, we wouldn’t have to deal with the other’s problems… She clenched her fists tightly, her look of anguish slowly becoming a look of rage. Now his sentence made perfect sense! He obviously meant that he was willing to throw their friendship away because of the burdens that would come from her life! It was his happiness he was worried about, not hers! 

A violent anger boiled inside her sorrow, soon erupting from within. He pretended to like her!—lied to her!—raised her up, to throw her to the ground! Her brows creased as she glared in hatred at the young man who toyed with her heart.     

Immediately after her confession, Jet slowly, shockingly shifted his gaze back to her face, unable to believe what she had just said. His gaze found her face in time to catch a glimpse of her flushed red cheeks, next came a gut-wrenching face of heartbreak, and after came pure rage. “But now your presence brings me grief!”

The boy started at first then glared back in defense. “I said I was sorry, Crystal! What more do you want?!”

Before she could stop herself, she snapped the words out of reflex.

“I want you out of my life permanently! You can drop dead for all I care!” At that point, Jet went through the last two expressions Crystal had: First, sorrow. Then, bitter anger.

“Fine! You want me gone, I’m gone!” he yelled in her face. She watched as he stalked away from her. His next words that came from his lips dropped her to her knees. “I’ll be the happiest without you anyways!” She heard his footsteps pickup speed, but could only see a mesh of colors as her legs buckled from underneath her.

So, it was true… He was happier without her… The torrent of tears fled from her eyes as she sobbed uncontrollably. Her angel was just in a dream. The real Jet had been a demon all along. Now, she had no angel… no haven to save her… The dream was over and she awoke to the deprave world hidden by her own ignorance.

Jet marched to his locker. I want you out of my life permanently! You can drop dead for all I care! He ground his teeth shut as he reached in his pocket for her gift. He clenched it tight in his hand. I tell her I want her to be happy and free and she abuses me like that?! He glared at the black box then threw it with all his strength. Our promise can drop dead! The box made a loud clang against the metal locker at the end of the hallway.

Jet’s gaze softened as he looked towards the gift-box lying on its side. Who was he kidding? No matter what she said to him, he couldn’t stay away from her. He loved her—there was no escaping that fact…

The only reason their argument escalated the way it did was because he had forgotten to show her his present. He let his anger overcome his intentions… Surely, she’d forgive him if she knew the reasons behind his actions. He decided it best to not give up and try to give it to her again sometime. 

However, as he tried to walk towards the item, he found his feet would not move from his spot. Looking back on it, he remembered the room had seemingly got taller when he threw the present in his fury.

Jet’s eyes opened like saucers as he saw what prevented his movement and caused the illusion of the building’s expansion. He stared in awestruck amazement at his feet submerged in a puddle black as night. He detected three abnormalities to this puddle: The first, and most obvious, contrast to a normal puddle was that it had been black. The second was that the temperature did not change when his feet was in the liquid, and the third was that a normal puddle with little depth wouldn’t be capable of flowing over his ankles.

“What in the,” Jet stammered as he tried to pull his feet from out of the puddle.

Like quicksand, his resistance only caused it to pull him deeper in. With every flail of his body the liquid pulled him further down until he was neck deep in the liquid, Jet tilting his head up in response. He wanted to scream for help but, like his immovable body, his voice now wasn’t responding to his will. Soon the puddle devoured him whole.

When it did so, Jet felt an immense source of gravity pull him down. He could only watch in despair as the fluorescent lights of the school fell away from him.

The view became completely reversed. Before he was engulfed, the only color of black was the liquid pulling him in. Now the color of black surrounded him and the only vibrant colors were the lights of the school, shrinking as Jet descended deeper in the depths. A ripple pulsed within the floating liquid as Jet’s whole body crossed into the black world, contorting the image of the lights on the ceiling—as if it had been the school submerged in a puddle. As he plummeted downwards, the puddle of gleaming white became a tiny star to him, its brightness fading as he fell further and further down.

When nothing but darkness remained, four neon green pillars of fire shot out beside him. The blasts stretched up and kept to the corners of an invisible square. Jet wasn’t sure if the top of the pillars were rising above him or he was falling below them. Regardless, when the tip of the four pillars got within fifty yards above him, the tops spiraled and met in the center of the imaginary square. Their comet-like trails twirled together, twining closer and closer to Jet’s feet. Jet watched in horror as the pillars twisted themselves and ground him in its embers.

Strangely, no pain came out of their touch. Only two things occurred from the pillars twining him in. His eyesight was affected dramatically. What once was all black became bright neon green. Another affect, involved the feel of gravity. As soon as the fire enwrapped him inside, the gravity in the area vanished.

As he lied within the embers of fire, he felt the flames incinerate him—he felt pieces of his body drift with the flames as if he was becoming part of the fire itself. Still, he awkwardly felt no pain as pieces of him became parts of the giant flame. His nervous system was still connected to the thousands of pieces of himself yet there was no pain. The green world blackened as he became like the fire.

The drift of wind that caressed the pieces of him silenced as Jet’s whole body became one with the flames—no sound, feeling, sight, or even smell remained in his senses.

After adjusting fully to complete numbness it alarmed him greatly when he felt a piece of his back touch something soft. It was a light sensation, due to his weightless form.

Soon all the pieces of his back gathered together, then his stomach and his legs. While it was not of flesh, he felt the flaming pieces of himself try to gather into the shape his previous body made, all the while staring into a neon green world again.     

The green world faded as his face became flesh once more. The fire surrounding him in the soft bed he lay on died away as it formed itself back into Jet’s skin.  Soon, he was back to his wholesome self—well, almost his whole self; he had wisps of fire for his right arm. The flickering flames gathered and formed the shape of his previous arm and hand. Jet contracted the flamed shaped as his fingers and opened them again, gazing in amazement. Soon the flames, shaped as an arm, died out as they formed back to flesh.

Jet hoisted himself off the soft bed and gawked at the sight behind him. He wasn’t lying in a bed at all; He was lying in a rectangular fireplace. The soft mattress on his back was actually piles of soot.

Even more so surprising was that the fireplace was the only thing that existed at that moment. It was Jet’s hallway all over again. Only this time he doubted the screen of black was an illusion.

The remaining small green embers in the fireplace spread and danced on the edges of what existed then made a deafening explosion. The blast did the exact opposite of what fire would do. Instead of incinerating what was left of the black world, its course of fire materialized the floor, walls, and ceiling. Jet watched in a daze as the left over flames ran across the remaining darkness, continuing to form shapes of the floors, ceilings, walls, tables, etc. When the flames on the floor were around thirty feet away, they stretched high up before vanishing with the other remaining sources of fire, revealing a rusty metal doorway and a wall up ahead, along with two tables beside each side of the door—the tables seemed to be made of purple wood and stood on rusted legs of metal. 

This place made Jet’s hairs stand on end. What kind of designer would even think of making this room—the Grim Reaper? Come to think of it, the décor fit personified death rather well.

The floors were made of old wood. From out of the sides of the floor—in the middle of the room—sprout two giant pale grey trees that towered up to the ceiling. The branches close to the sickly pale green walls and ceiling acted like roots as they engraved themselves into the walls and ceiling in intricate patterns. The branches away from the wall drooped drearily, as if it was on the verge of death.

Jet would have rather kept himself in the blackened world than see this. The room made him sick to his stomach. Everything around him portrayed the epitome of decay, and Jet was pretty sure the people here intended for him to complement the décor nicely.

The sound of Gabren’s cackle came from a few rooms away, confirming Jet’s suspicion. It figured this dead world would belong to the demons.

This was it. Jet couldn’t run or hide any longer. The demons were approaching. His destiny was at hand; the fight between demon and ANOINTED was about to begin.



xD I really do feel tempted living you here. Heh. But I have more gut-wrenching cliff hangars to throw at you. MWAHAHAHA!



The saga continues! Because I'm just that sadistic. xD



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