WnW 6.23

The voice from the Tree pulsated directly into my head. It was violating, invasive in a way that I hadn’t imagined was possible. My thoughts were not alone.

“You are not yet ripe,” the voice said.

I shuddered. “Who are you?”

“The Messenger of God.”

Dread filled my mouth. “What do you want?”

Despite the voice being disembodied, I could hear their smile. “What do you want?”

An ugly thought, born of desperation, wormed its way to my lips, “The death of my enemies.”

“Granted.”

I felt the Tree shift under my fingertips and something cool and smooth found its way into my palm. An ornate knife, tinged orange. The handle depicted a heavenly battle, the art wrought in veins. The thing pulsed like it had a heart. Feathery folds unfurled from hidden slits to unveil gossamer wings, like a hummingbird’s.

“Speak the name of the dead. The suffering has not yet reached her.”

The constant whine receded, but not before a final message.

“Wake my dear, beloved God from slumber.”

The veil fell and reality came crashing back down around me. I was startled at the sudden onslaught of noise. Waves of heat poured off of the raging form of the Goblin. He refused to go down, even with being dealt countless deep wounds by Damascus, he let out a deep booming laughter. He was reckless beyond reason.

The Goblin’s eyes locked onto mine. I couldn’t look away. Did he believe there was some connection between us? Perhaps there was. I feared him, not because of his strength, but because I didn’t want that to be my future. 

At that moment I realized that the Goblin did not want to live. His Witch was long dead. He had no purpose. Everything he did was only to distract and delay from the overwhelming pain of that loss.

And I can give him release. I looked down at the alien weapon in my hands. It fluttered without leaving my palm.

Raising it to my lips, I whispered, “The Goblin.”

The knife shot out of my hand like an arrow loosed from a bow, flying in a straight line directly at him.

Damascus was in its path. He seemed to sense it last second, twisting away. It passed straight through his metallic arm as if it wasn’t even there. Then again through the shoulder of an Alek. The knife flew true, unerringly until it sunk through the Goblin’s chest into his heart.

Time seemed to stop as everyone turned to stare. The Goblin hadn’t looked away from me. Organ’s Witch looked alarmed for the first time. The Aleks looked lost, hoping for instruction from the hidden Helen.

The Goblin sighed. I could see the tension release from his body and his muscles unravelled, as if they had been holding on to this form for dear life. They detached, uncurling like a blooming flower. Waves of heat washed out from him like a newly opened furnace. Past all the muscle was the outline of a man who burned bright yellow like he embodied the Sun. His face was featureless and he nodded.

Then the fire extinguished, leaving behind nothing, not even ash. Darkness took hold after everyone’s eyes had to adjust.

I felt the knife return to my hand, feathery and soft. It wasn’t even slick with blood.

I raised it to my lips again and in the silence, everyone heard me.

“The Ghost Queen. Helen.”

The knife’s wings began to buzz and it shot forth once more. Of all the strangers standing in the courtyard, it singled out one.

Helen’s face dropped off from everyone as she revealed herself, fear etched into her features.

“Alek! Save me!” she cried out, throwing up her hands.

The closest Alek threw himself into the knife’s path. It passed straight through his midsection like a ghost. Another placed himself in the path, arms splayed wide. The knife hit him directly in his chest and this time the Alek reacted, the colour draining from his face. He convulsed before collapsing, the knife emerging from his back, still moving towards its true target.

Every Alek in the building surged forward as Helen scrambled to stay away. Her back hit the wall and she stared horrified at the blade that sought her heart. Aleks began throwing themselves in front of her, baring their chests. The knife hit the first, struggled to push through his heart and carried onwards to the next. The Aleks grimaced but none turned from their fatal sacrifice. Each time the knife burrowed through a heart, it fluttered out just a bit weaker.

The last Alek slumped to the ground, spent. The knife remained halfway buried in his chest, its wings drooped and exhausted.

Relieved laughter tumbled out of Helen’s mouth. She doubled over, shaking with mirth. 

I just stared hollowly at her.

Once she had composed herself, she wiped away a tear. She looked quite different. Her hair was brown. There was a large birthmark on her chin and her teeth weren’t quite so perfect as she smiled. “I have to thank you, Nick. You just saved me from the headache of dealing with having that many Aleks obsessed over me.” 

One of the dying Aleks reached up to her and she took care to step on his hand, bringing it back down to the earth. “Doesn’t it feel good? You tried your best. You really tried everything. Alliances, teamwork, deception, good ol’ grit. And at the end of it, you came up short. Because I know, deep down, you knew you were going to lose and this is what you deserve. And if you’re going to die, at least being right feels good.”

I wearily looked up to what remained of H.E.S.P. watching us from above, unable to do anything against the Witches.

Helen giggled childishly. “To quote a certain Sullivan: I think you’re out of cards to play.”

Now. A signal hit me that made my head jerk up, a string plucked on a long silent instrument. I wet my lips and spoke, “All that talk of masks and you were wearing one this whole time.”

She curled her lip and her idealized face reappeared. “So? I’ve always been true to my soul. You all are just too stupid to do the same. I had each and every one of the sorry Rings adorning my fingers. All because no one can see past their own fucking mask except me.”

“I can think of one other person who can see right through you.”

A figure darted out from a dark corner of the courtyard. Their H.E.S.P. uniform had let them slip into place, unnoticed in the chaos.

Helen stared at me, unaware, mouth open but unsure of what to say. Then she heard the footsteps and her eyes widened. I knew what was going through her head. Why hadn’t I sensed them? She whirled around just in time for the person to plunge a knife into her stomach.

Helen coughed, her face going pale. “You…?” she said before taking one step back and falling to the ground, joining the Aleks in a heap.

The soldier removed their helmet. Nell’s messy hair tumbled down and she turned to stare down Organ’s Witch. 

I couldn’t help but have the biggest grin on my face.

Nell dropped the knife and reached into her pockets.

The other people that Helen had been disguising were looking to Organ’s Witch for guidance. Some of them wore lab coats, while others wore expensive looking suits. There was even a young boy who clutched a computer part to his chest. The component looked part synthetic, part organic.

I felt the Witch’s powers lift and my balance and breath returned to me. Her brow twitched as she held up a hand, staying Damascus who was readying to attack.

“You disabled my failsafes,” she said, still infuriatingly composed.

Nell withdrew three strange withered egg sacs that she held up like trophies. “You underestimated what I could do while synced with the Tree,” she said haughtily. “Of course I had to be subtle, otherwise you would take notice. But I know you. We’ve spent so much time in each other’s presence. I knew that once it appeared to be over you would start thinking about what would come next. You should’ve kept your head in the present.”

Anger flashed across the Witch’s face for a moment before she regained her composure. “You haven’t won. This may not be the success, but it was one success in a long line of trials leading to our inevitable goal.”

I took in a deep breath and stood. “Keep running,” I taunted. “We won’t stop hunting you down. Eventually you won’t have anywhere left to turn.”

There was a tense moment when I wasn’t sure if Organ would try to reassert control over the Tree. But then the Witch simply walked to the exit, Damascus and the others following after her.

I restrained myself from trying to pick another fight. Nell’s own inaction made it clear that Sillwood’s citizens should come first over her vendetta.

The Tree still stood, releasing waves of hatred like it always had, yet now it seemed more ominous than before. A new mystery to unravel.

My whole body relaxed as I could finally breathe normally once more. Zola was on his hands and knees, dry heaving.

I patted his shoulder sympathetically before approaching Nell. She took two big steps towards me but then stopped, pain flickering on her face.

“She told you,” she said, almost accusingly.

“Yeah. It doesn’t matter. I-”

“It does matter,” Nell said miserably.

“Hey. I’m just glad to finally see you face to face. And we’re not quite out of the woods yet. There’s a whole lot of rock about to fall on our heads if we can’t ask for an extension.” I looked regretfully at the Tree. “I’m positive we can come up with some other way to stop the remaining Aleks in the city, but I wish we hadn’t lost Alek’s phone.”

Zola dry-heaved again, then spat before saying, “We did not lose it.”

He reached his crystalline nails into his throat. I almost stopped him, for fear that he would cut his mouth to ribbons. But then he withdrew something from within without injury. The phone, wet with fluid.

I stared at it, astonished. “How did you…”

Zola gave me a tight-lipped smile. “Part of my Shape. I can store things within. You trusted me. I had to follow through.”

I laughed incredulously and took the phone. Seeing that it still worked I passed it to Nell.

She cocked her head quizzically.

“A countermeasure to the clones. We were hoping that you could broadcast it through the Tree, before we destroy it, of course.”

Nell nodded seriously and took to her task. 

I wanted to ask her if in all the time she had been connected to the Tree, if it had ever spoken to her. But I kept that inside for now. There would be time to address it later.

H.E.S.P. soldiers watched on as Nell hit play and listened. Heavy metal riffs and ragged vocals thrummed through the speaker. 

“I know this one,” I said. “Crowblood.”

“Mm.” Nell nodded along to the beat and then pressed a hand to the Tree.

The music took on an ethereal quality as it pulsed outward from the Beacon. The rhythm of the waves changed, following the beat of the song. The song played through our minds, using instruments that couldn’t be replicated.

It was just my imagination, but the second the music washed out over the city, I felt as though I could hear the cries of terror and agony cease. I closed my eyes and let the music carry me far away as the first warm beams of sunlight peeked over the sill of Sillwood.