The Plight of the Effigies

The beginning of it all...

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PROLOGUE

THE PLIGHT OF THE EFFIGIES

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The White Stone blazed before him. Reue took a step forward, feeling within him the pulsating allure of its beauty. As he crept onward, one foot after another, he sensed a lightness about him, an aura of weightlessness as he traveled ever closer. Muffled whispers were heard emenating from its core. A multitude of voices. They were contending for his attention all at once.

Reue had not yet been this close to it. He’d only seen it from afar. Even then, when he was yet a hundred yards away, that prominent light protruding from the miniscule stone on the far end of the atrium seemed to beckon him.

The stone hovered atop a short titanium obelisk, by which a pointed arch towered over. In this way, the White Stone appeared like the rest of them that were archived in this hall. At a cursory glance, it held just as much beauty and power as the next.

But something was clearly different about this one. The stone burned far brighter than the rest and spun languidly in a circular motion, giving all its sharp facets the opportunity to gleam and shimmer. Reue, now feet from the stone, reached out his hand, the tips of his fingers being tenderly pricked by its radiant, magnetic strength.

Then, he heard clacks echoing toward him. Reue turned himself around to face the source of the footsteps. It took a few more breathless heartbeats before a figure emerged from the extended corridor offshooting from the atrium.

Reue had not noticed this person before. This one dressed in all white: white boots, white top, white tights, and a white hooded cape. Reue inched forward and said from afar, “We’re closed.”

He heard his voice reverberate throughout the nearly-vacant atrium.

“Are you…Reue?” the white figure echoed back.

Reue squinted his eyes to see who was inside that hood. He couldn’t make out a face.

“The door was supposed to be locked.”

“Locked?” the figure said curiously. “Why, I was able to walk right in. Surely, I haven’t missed the festivities?”

“You did. By nearly an hour.”

“I was hoping to receive a tour. I mean, I have come all this way. I did not want miss the grand opening.”

“I’m sorry, sir,” Reue said, “I’m afraid tomorrow would work just as well? All the others have gone already.”

“So you’re the only Guardian left?”

“I’m the first one to take the night shift.”

“Ah, so you’ll be here all night.”

“I suppose, that’s right.”

The sound of clacking began to bounce around the room again as the white figure slowly walked toward Reue, though only by a few steps.

“I was curious,” said the figure, halting again, “if you could tell me what you know about these stones?”

“Tomorrow,” Reue repeated. “I’ll be happy to, then.”

“Is that the White Stone behind you?”

Reue turned around to again glimpse the bright and shining stone.

“Incredible power,” said the figure, his voice suddenly hushed. “Eternal power.”

Reue looked at him. “The Paragon said we’re free to utilize any of these stones.”

“Ah, well, why haven’t you?”

“I was about —”

“I could understand how overwhelmeing it must be. Guarding these precious stones. Forty to be exact, so I’ve heard. Unsure of which to hold first…?”

Reue paused for a moment. “I thought you didn’t know what these stones are for.”

“No, I did not say such a thing. I simply asked you to give me a tour. To tell me about these stones. Surely, you must know better than I. The Paragon, I am aware, has told you everything about them.”

“The Ascendant told Creed,” Reue corrected him. “Creed, in turn, told us.”

“I see,” said the figure. “Then you are able to relay to me what you know?”

Reue sighed.

The white figure began to amble away from him, to the opposite end of the atrium. Reue followed.

“I noticed upon walking in,” the figure continued, “a stone that was not lit. Could this one be…”

“The Black Stone,” Reue finished for him.

“…Yes.”

The figure stopped when he was only feet from the arch where the dark, colorless, brightless stone hovered over its obelisk.

Reue eventually came to stand next to the figure and  immediately appraised him. His skin-tight clothes had a gloss to them and a scale-like pattern faintly etched into the fabric. Still, he could not discern the face inside the hood as it drooped over the eyes, casting a deep shadow on the rest. Of course, it did not help that they faced the only unlit corner of the large hall.

But when he looked down, Reue noticed for the first time that the hands were charred black. The fingers were thin and pointed, unlike Reue’s own. He eventually became aware, too, of the figure’s deep and guttural voice, a voice unlike he had heard before.

“It’s a pity this one doesn’t shine like the rest,” the figure said. “The hall reminds me of a prism. So much color…But not here. Not this one…”

Reue shifted his focus from the figure to the Black Stone. While it did not emit any light, nor did its energy pull him in like gravity, nor were there any whispers ruminating from it, it did have its odd beauty. Looking closer, Reue noticed faint sparkles within the gem as if it held the night sky within.

“Did not the Paragon say that you could utilize any stone in this hall?” the white figure asked, his voice piqued with hightened interest.

“He did,” Reue said. “But not this stone.”

“No? Surely, this one can be used, as well?”

Reue shook his head gravely. “This one brings death.”

“Death?” the figure repeated. “What is death…? Do you even know what fear is?”

Reue hesitated, his mind’s eye searching for a reply. “The Paragon said this stone can’t be used. We can’t even touch it…or we’ll die.”

“You will not surely die,” the figure retorted. “No.”

“That’s what he said.”

“That is what you heard…And not from the Paragon. Not from the Ascendant. From Creed. A mere effigy.”

“Then you touch it.”

“I cannot touch it,” the figure said reproachfully. “You know that only the Guardians are able to unhinge the stones from their sockets. Only you can, Reue. I cannot do it for you.”

“You want it for yourself.”

“No…No, I have no use for the stone.”

“You seem very interested.”

“I am interested in you, Reue. In the Guardians. Picked up from the ashheap. Yet, left so vulnerable. So…ignorant.”

Reue didn’t speak; he was unsure if he was following.

“Do you think the Paragon confides all his secrets with you…or even with Creed?” the figure continued. “I am afraid he has left you quite helpless…He did not even remember to lock the door for you.”

“The Paragon said —”

“The Paragon…has kept things from you, Reue, do you not see? The Paragon knows quite well what power is contained within this stone.”

“What power?”

“Power that rivals even the Paragon himself. Sovereignty. Immutability. Immortality,” the figure paused on the last word. “Yes, he knows that once you use this stone, there is none who can stop him. You will be like him…in all things.”

Reue’s eyes floated back onto the stone. It did look…attractive, he came to think of it.

“Has the Paragon even said a word to you?” the figure asked as Reue kept his gaze on the stone. “Has the Ascendant instructed you, Reue?”

The figure now appraised Reue from the side, whose eyes were suddenly wide and glinting.

The figure lowered his voice, as if he were whispering in his ear. “Take it for yourself, Reue…He is not even here to see. You can always put it back.”

Reue slowly turned his head to meet the hooded figure. This time, he saw a dark smile spread across his face, the rest still covered by the hood.

“Who are you?” Reue said.

“…I am Vakra. Servant of the Paragon.”

“Where do you come from?”

“The Empyrium.”

“So you’re a walkman?”

“Indeed.”

“Walkmen are transluscent. You’re…solid.”

“Ah, well, you must not have met us all, then. One fourth of all walkmen look quite like me.”

Reue assessed Vakra with his eyes. “If you really are a walkman, prove it.”

Vakra watched him hesitantly for a moment, but then turned around to face the large, vacant atrium space. Reue did the same. Vakra stretched out his arm toward the place where the White Stone hovered ablaze. His arm, then, motioned upward at the massive, domed, glass-encased ceiling. Suddenly, a rip, like a tear from a seam, stretched from one end of the ceiling to the other, opening widely as it went. What once was a panoramic window to a starry sky was now a threshold to billowing, grey clouds. Reue felt a chilled wind gently blow against his face, and thousands of white specks glided downward — snow.

But before they had time to touch the polished floor, the clouds grew a dark shade, like blackened smoke, where rumbles of thunder were heard, along with strings of lightning. The air in the room became suddenly humid and static. A moment later, all the clouds evaporated to showcase a bright blue sky. A rotating globe, like a miniature sun, descended from the threshold until it almost reached the atrium floor. Heat pulsated from the sphere like gusts of wind.

It remained afloat as Reue took in the scene, but within a few lingering moments, the sun vanished as the tear closed like a scabby wound, revealing the glassy ceiling once again. The two stood there as they had been, the room completely unaffected by what just occured.

Reue looked over at Vakra. Vakra turned again to face the Black Stone.

“So, have I proved myself true enough?” Vakra asked. “I told you I am in no need of these stones. Not like you are.”

Reue took in a deep breath and faced the Black Stone. Though it wasn’t tugging at him on its own accord like the White Stone had, he found himself approaching it one inch at a time as if being pulled anyway, his hand gradually lifting from his side.

“Do not be unsure, Reue,” Vakra said softly in his ear, his tone assuring and persuasive. “Take it, and see for yourself what you will become.”

Reue’s feet met the obelisk, his body so close that a sudden jerk would cause him to knock it over. Then, with caution fully dissolved, his hand clutched the stone.

Creed stood sentinel at the foot of the sweeping bay window, overlooking the illuminated city below. His eyes roamed among the few people who were still ambling around the main boulevard that connected his building to the Hall of Stones. From his vantage point, Creed could see the top of the domed atrium aglow with an array of ever-changing colors. He paced unhurriedly from one end of the window to the other, his boots clacking quietly on the hard floor, his cape swaying as he went. His arms were linked behind his back, his left hand rubbing his right-handed wrist. There was a stone implanted there.

Creed eventually turned on his heel and walked within his expansive penthouse, which was lit only — yet quite well — by the city lights that spilled through the glass. He finally unhooked his cape and tossed it on the long sofa that spread itself near the center of the open sitting room. Then, he sighed as he fell into a cushioned armchair.

The city was quiet, like it always was at this time. But Creed grew anxious. After only a few moments with his feet propped up on the mahogany table, they found themselves shuffling through his entrance doors and into the vastly-lit corridor. Creed scanned both ends but neither heard nor saw a stir. He walked determinedly down the hall until he reached another pair of large alloy doors, resembling his own entrance.

Creed pushed the doorbell on the side wall just before letting himself inside.

“Atonai?” he called.

The penthouse was as dark and vacant as his own. “Atonai!”

He decided to walk down a few more paces, this time disregarding the doorbell entirely and stepping inside yet another unlit penthouse.

“Shalo!”

The only thing staring back at him was the formidable fortress that was the Hall of Stones, gleaming through the large window.

After another moment’s pause, Creed went back into the bright corridor and traveled to its very end. The high elevator doors that stood at the epicenter of the massive vestibule anticipated his movements; they retracted to allow him inside. He entered what looked to be a large glass rotunda. With the floor also transparent, Creed pointed his eyes downward. He could not find the bottom — not at this height.

“Good evening, Creed,” said a mild voice, though no one was there.

“Evening. First floor please.”

“Yes, sir,” said the voice.

At once, the glassed rotunda gracefully and unhurriedly descended through the many layers of the building.

“Has Atonai or Shalo been on here lately?” Creed asked.

“Yes, sir. Shalo and Atonai descended to Floor One together approximately sixteen minutes ago.”

Creed tapped his foot quietly on the glassy floor, and after a few more lingering moments, the high elevator doors yawned. The next sight that caught Creed’s eyes made him hesitate. Creed expected to walk into a dazzling lobby with its sleek chandelier glittering the entire space with light. Instead, it was as if he had entered the mouth of a cave. It was pitch — except for a faint, flickering glow, its source well out of view.

“I had asked for the first floor, please,” Creed told the voice.

“This is Floor One, sir.”

Creed breathed in slowly before shuffling out the doors. After he walked a few paces, they soon closed behind him, and the light that eminated from it was now fully snuffed out. Creed only had the faint, distant glow to guide him.

He eventually rounded a corner to where the source of the light was, and the sight was as if he was looking at a distant campfire blocked by those encamped around it. He made out three figures silhoutted by the glow.

Creed’s boots clacked on the hard floor as he approached the figures, in which caused the three to eventually stop their hushed whispers and look toward the source of the sound. As Creed neared them, he noticed the two he had expected to find. But the third…Creed was quite surprised.

“Reue?” Creed said with a hint of caution in his voice.

Reue turned fully around, the source of the light — now revealed — was radiating from his wrist, illuminating both of their faces.

“Creed, you’ve got to check this out!” Reue said excitedly.

“Reue. You’re supposed to be at the Hall.”

“Don’t worry. I’ve sealed it.”

“Sealed it?” Creed repeated. “What do you mean?”

“It’s okay, Creed,” Reue told him with a reasurring voice. “Just look.”

Reue held out his right hand, the stone that was no larger than a fingernail sat wedged in his wrist, right underneath his palm. Creed leaned in closer and noticed that the stone contained a miniature storm — and with it, a thousand lightning bolts eager to be splayed.

“What is that?” Creed asked.

“The light from the chandelier.” Reue said. “I sucked out the light.”

“I’ve never seen a stone do that,” Creed told Reue with even more caution. “Which of these is it?”

Reue’s eyes darted elsewhere as Creed stared unflinchingly at him.

“Reue. Which stone—”

“The Black Stone,” Shalo answered for him.

Creed’s eyes widened tremendously. What was behind them wasn’t exactly fear but great concern.

“Reue, you’ll die—!!”

“No, I won’t,” he replied. “I haven’t, see? I’m alive. And there are things I can do that none of the other stones will let me do.”

“Reue—”

“Just watch,” Reue said, stopping him. “I’ll put the light back.”

Reue lifted his hand with the wedged stone and directed it toward the chandelier that was hidden in the darkness. Within a moment, the lightning that was contained within the stone now zapped from Reue’s hand like a canon and clasped the chandelier as if it were a magnet for electricity. The large light fixture tottered as the lights came back on, glittering the lobby with dancing light once again.

“A bit unyielding…” Reue admitted softly.

Atonai reached for the stone, “Here, let me show Creed something.”

But before Creed could stop him, Atonai stole the stone from Reue’s wrist and delicately placed it in his own, which sat enfused as if by some invisible force.

“I’ve already worn this,” Atonai said to Creed with a reasurring tone that only made him more apprehensive.

Atonai was almost knocked backward as he raised his hand toward the farthest wall and transformed it into a waterfall. The mist sprinkled their faces.

“And you…?” Creed said unamusingly to Shalo.

Shalo gave a hesitant smile that confirmed Creed’s suspicion.

“None of us have died,” Reue said, answering the silent question in Creed’s head. “We’re all okay…In fact, I feel more power in me when I wear it, don’t you?” He said, now turning to his other companions.

“We are the only Guardians chosen,” said Creed. “What if something happens to us?”

“Nothing will happen,” Shalo finally spoke. “You said you knew what he said about these stones. You said this one will bring death—”

“That’s what he told me—!”

“—but if this is what death is, I wouldn’t be so concerned. You probably misheard him, Creed.”

“…What posessed you?” Creed asked Reue.

“Look,” Reue said. “I took the stone. I didn’t have to share it with any of you—”

“You weren’t supposed to touch it—!”

“—but I did! And I decided to share it with my friends…With you…There’s enough power here for all of us. Now, if you don’t want a part in this, then tell me now, and that’ll be it. You won’t have to see us again.”

“…What is this?” Creed asked, not sure of what to make of Reue’s words.

Reue leaned in close to Creed and softened his voice, almost in a whisper. “There’s an uprising coming.”

“A what?”

“The Paragon keeps secrets, Creed. The Ascendant, the Savant, the Effulgent — all of him! He’s kept things from us. Trying to keep us from reaching our true potential.”

“That’s exactly what we are trying to avoid, Reue,” Creed reminded him.

“Reaching our potential?”

“An uprising! That’s why we’re the Guardians. We’re here, not just to keep the stones safe, but also those outside. The citizens. To protect them.”

“From what? Do you even know what death is?”

Creed was about to cut Reue off in mid-speech until he heard the word death…what was death…?

“How about fear?” Reue added. “Words the Paragon used to persuade us to not touch this stone but never explained what they meant. And what are we supposed to protect the citizens from, by the way?”

Reue had a point there…

“Shifters,” Creed said, but his voice was less confident, less defensive.

“What exactly are shifters?” Reue said, recognizing that he was quickly gaining the offensive. “For all we know, they could just be empty words. The Paragon himself may not have even thought that much through.”

Creed now stood clearly in battle with his own thoughts. Reue reached out his hand and placed it on his  companion’s shoulder.

“The Paragon made this place,” Creed said, his words a bit shaky; these were his last words of resistance. “He made those stones…And us, too.”

“If he’s not spoken the truth about this little stone, what’s to say we can believe him regarding anything?”

There was a great chasm of silence between the two, the three campanions — the Guardians — now waiting as the fourth stood on the brink of decision.

“I was hesitant at first, too,” Reue said, his voice now amicable. “Just try it on…No one’s saying you have to keep using it if you don’t want to. Who’s to say it’ll work for you, anyway?”

Creed eyed Reue without a word, and after a long, drawn-out moment, reached out his hand. Atonai took the Black Stone out from his own wrist and ambled over to him. Creed’s heart beat fast as he waited patiently for the stone to drop into his hand. But as Atonai hesitated, Creed grew more restive. Soon, with all his resistance at last drained, he swung his arm and grasped the stone out of Atonai’s hand.

The very moment Creed held the stone — right when his skin had touched its surface — there was a hot, penetrating sting.

“Aaaahhh!” Creed gasped, flinging the stone into the air so that his other hand could tend to the pain — something he had never felt before.

And despite that tiny stone tapping the floor, it cracked, and whatever was locked inside now surged outward.

At first, Creed only took notice of his hand. From the place he had touched the stone, there was now a thick, black residue; and from it, veins quickly splintered in every direction, coursing the surface of his entire body as if trying to strangle him. Creed glanced over and saw the same strange event happening to the three of his companions. All of them were becoming black, grotesque hybrids of what they were.

And now, having finally given his attention to the stone, Creed found that the air itself was being attacked by that thick, black disease. Veins were stretching around the floors, lengthening around every wall, hanging on every ceiling. The glassy stone was now completely swallowed. In its place was a growing, tangible darkness unlike any of them could have imagined.

Creed’s pupils grew unnaturally large. His eyes now saw death — alive and incensed. And fear he had finally felt.

“The White Stone!” Creed yelled to the others amidst the expanding, darkening chaos. “Get to the White Stone!”

The four spun on their heels and stumbled toward the only light they could now find. In spite of every painful step, Creed hurried toward the large, glass entrance doors that led to the glowing boulevard outside and, eventually, the Hall of Stones.

He was tempted to look back as he finally pushed the doors wide open. Those strolling along the sidewalks immediately turned their attention to him — or perhaps it was to what was behind…

Creed turned his head as he continued to race down the street. The black veins almost fully encased the tower in which he had just come from. Within the few moments it had taken shape, it now had become so immense that it resembled an oncoming tidal wave or an uncontrollable wildfire; and it was bent on accomplishing one goal…

It clearly had a mind of its own, snaking along deliberate paths toward the citizens. No pedestrian was spared. All of them — each and every one of them — were absorbed by those sticky, spidery fingers. Creed no longer saw his three companions running alongside him; and the buildings on either side were now suffering the same fate as they.

There were cries and gasps from those yet to be hit, not knowing — not understanding — the full measure of what it was. It was as if Creed were completely invisible to them as he paced down the boulevard, their attention fully given over to something greater than he.

At last, his feet landed on the stairs that led to the entrance of the Hall. He scrambled upward and spoke the password that was given to him by the Ascendant, yet the doors didn’t move aside…It was sealed…

Remembering that he still wore one of the stones in his wrist, he ran to the smooth wall and pressed his fingers onto it. They immediately gripped the side. Like a spider, he began to crawl up the building. As his feet attached to the wall, the darkness swept all that was left of the ground. Noticing the veins approaching, he scurried as fast as he could to the top.

He had no time to think, Creed had to smash the glass. Yet, he did not have the superpower nor personal strength to penetrate it. But he didn’t have to: as the blackness webbed over the building’s wall on every side and onto the domed roof, the pressure from the darkness suddenly cracked the glass. Creed moved toward the center of the roof, closing his eyes to what was about to overtake him, when the glass under him completely shattered.

He fell almost forty feet when his ankle was snared by the tangible darkness. He fought to escape as he landed roughly on the floor, which offered some cushioning due to his entanglement.

Looking up from the ground, Creed saw it right in front of him: just a few yards away spun the blazing, dazzling White Stone. And just as he thought this would be the last thing he would ever see, that he would be forever submerged in the darkness, it was refusing to overtake him altogether.

The darkness now fully encamped the atrium. All he could make out now was the bright White Stone, himself, and the utter darkness that encircled them. Even the stars in the sky above seemed to have been removed.

Creed, now fully black himself, struggled to break free from the external darkness that threatened to keep him. He inched toward the stone more and more, but he noticed that he was not literally drawn to it like it he used to be. Instead, the closer he came to it, the more he felt repulsed by it. Or maybe it was repulsed by him…Perhaps it was both…

It was as if he was striving against a current as he reached out his hand to grasp the stone. Yet, before he could manage it, he noticed, off to the side, something blindingly white cut through the darkness like dough. Soon, it was clear who it was.

Then, fear — something he had never felt until moments ago — reached its climax when the Ascendant stood between him and the stone. Creed’s body shook and trembled violently on the floor as he neared him.

The Ascendant resembled the White Stone, chisled like rock with an extraordinary brightness radiating from every part of him. Yet he had two arms and stood on two feet like an effigy, towering large over Creed who was bent over in visible agony.

Though the Ascendant had no discernable face, a voice rose out of him. “What have you done, Creed?”

“…Master!”

“What have I told you?”

There was a hatred that boiled more furiously inside Creed as the Ascendant neared him.

“GET AWAY!” Creed hissed with all the contempt he could muster as he writhed on the floor.

The Ascendant stood looking down on the helpless creature that was Creed, once a Guardian, once free.

“As you wish…” the Ascendant said defeatedly, turning his back and walking away as the darkness covered Creed’s eyes at last.

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