The space felt chilled despite the roaring incinerator casting dancing lights across the room. No one spoke, no one cried.…perhaps no one even breathed as Yvlen's body laid only a few feet from the ravenous flames.
The group had done their best, Isaiah and Cheslin having carefully wrapped her petite body in the whitest linens they could find. Mateo and the twins made the three red braided cords that were draped over her chest. Ivan hadn't come, though no one knew why, while Judice stood to the far side, her face stained with the tears shed over the last twenty-seven hours. Amalee stood with her, holding her in a gentle embrace.
Norman had brought a few blooms from the garden, forming a delicate bouquet that he set over the three cords. Camille and Frederic stood closer to the corpse. It'd been decided the day prior that they'd deliver the hymn of the gods to aid the young girl's spirit in passing over to the other realm.
Velicity remained back in her room with Marianna, and Zubia decided to stay with them, offering comfort while the others attended the funeral.
It wasn't a traditional Breathless ceremony. They didn't have the proper materials or tools to do so. However, they couldn't just throw Yvlen to the creptors outside the bunker or crudely dispose of her body without ceremony, either.
"A soul has been lost to us far too early," Camille started, reading off of a sheet of notes she'd made shortly after Yvlen had passed. "Yvlen Vero of Arkasia has left us, embarking on her journey to Sanctuary. We gather here today to help light her way to the gods who watch on from above."
Isaiah only held a minute belief in the gods his mother raised him to believe in. However, feeling like Yvlen was heading to a paradise beyond brought comfort to his aching heart. As it likely did for everyone else.
"We ask ye gods to prepare a seat at your table," Frederic continued the hymn, each word carefully annunciated and drawn out. "We ask ye gods to accept this young, loving soul into your palace of eternity. We humbly beseech thee in guiding her for the journey we cannot reach with our earthly flames."
Frederic and Camille stepped back, gesturing for Isaiah to move forward. Isaiah knew the process of funerals—nearly every Breathless did—but this was the first time he had to send someone off. Usually, the duty fell to city authorities or high-ranking generals if the body couldn't be transported home. Here, there was only a commander. A commander wholly ill-prepared to do as was asked of him.
Still, he forced himself forward, his hands resting on the smooth metal edges of the gurney Yvlen's body laid upon. As was tradition, everyone held their tongues as Yvlen was gently pushed into the flames. Once the top of her head was clear, Isaiah used a metal rod to close the incinerator's door behind her. There, they watched on in silence as her body bathed in the dancing reds and oranges on the other side of the thick glass.
A few sniffles here and there indicated the strain of keeping tears at bay. Only after the flames began to fade did comrades start filtering out of the room. Norman seemed the last to leave aside from Isaiah, embracing the young commander before silently letting himself out.
Isaiah wasn't sure how long he stood there, watching the last of the flames disappear and leaving nothing but ashes in their wake. A sob escaped him, echoed by the sound of another. He turned to see Judice still lingering at the side of the room.
"Judice?" he croaked, wiping at his eyes. "I thought…I was sure you'd left with the others."
She shook her head, her face contorting in agony as she began crying harder than Isaiah had ever seen a person cry. Sidestepping his own grief, he came to stand in front of her, gathering Judice's petite frame in his arms and holding her shuddering body close to him.
"I know, I know," he cried, stroking her long black hair. "She's with the gods, now. It's… it's okay, Judice."
Judice shook her head against him. "No," she whimpered. "It's not, Commander."
Isaiah winced at the harsh truth. He knew this pain well. He knew it wouldn't be okay for a while. But, what more was there to say? How could he ease the pain Judice felt at the loss of her comrade?
Slowly, Judice shifted away from Isaiah, looking up at him with glossy eyes. "Commander, I… I'm such a…" her voice failed her as another sob overcame her.
Isaiah patiently waited. It was becoming clear that Judice needed to tell him something. And he was going to be here whenever she was ready to speak.
"I loved her," Judice choked out, her fingers gripping Isaiah's forearms as if she felt she'd be blown away by those three words. Her eyes were still trained on him, filled with agony. "I loved her, but…commander, I was never as brave as you. I couldn't….but I…." she broke down once more, this time wailing as the agony escaped in tormented bursts.
"She told me years ago that she'd wait! That I didn't have to give her an answer right away!" Judice cried, raising her voice as words so hard to speak only moments ago now flowed with grievous ease. "She was dying, and I couldn't even tell her how I felt! And now she'll never know! I….I, commander…. I'm such a fucking coward—"
Isaiah brought her close to him once more. "No. Judice, you're anything but a coward," he said, feeling the wetness of her tears soak his shirt. He didn't care. "It's hard to admit something that can be so detrimental to your well-being. That's not your fault, though. Our people, they don't make our love easy. I promise you, Yvlen understood. Just like I do."
"Then how were you able to do it?" she whimpered. "Where did you find your strength?"
Isaiah carefully pulled away from her, brushing long black strands from her face. "I didn't," he answered honestly. "Finding that kind of strength in our society is….very hard," he continued, carefully wiping tears from under her eyes. "I was given my strength. From ma, Norman….even Velicity, as hard as that may sound."
Judice seemed like she was going to smile, but it never actually broke, the pain killing it before it could even form.
"And now," he said, moving his hand from her hair to her shoulder and squeezing it, "I'm giving you mine."
She nodded before her face contorted once more. "But she's gone… .it's too late."
Knowing someone is hurting and knowing you can do nothing about it burns. But, it's a fact that there is nothing Isaiah can do for her. That healing will take time. Pain faltering only after moving on.
So, instead of continuing a conversation that will only bring more agony, Isaiah leads Judice out of the room, walking side-by-side with her back to the others.
***
A month has passed since Yvlen's funeral. Judice is only now beginning to seem like a living person rather than a walking corpse. Some of her Xishian heritage is coming through as she snaps at anyone showing her pity, warning them that she doesn't need it.
For Isaiah, that's fine. It's part of the grieving process, and he's glad that her hostile personality is coming back. Then, at least, she's becoming herself again. Even if everyone else has to suffer her temper.
Today, though, they're binding documents they've sifted through over nearly two months of digging. There are a lot of essential facts held here, and Isaiah doesn't plan on leaving without anything they believe is crucial to their return.
It takes their entire work schedule to do it, but they succeed in packaging everything neatly before storing it in one of the unoccupied bedrooms.
"Alright, gang. Good job today. Norman and I will go bring the next batch in, but we won't start on that until tomorrow," Isaiah explained, preparing to dismiss his team.
"Um, commander, wait."
Isaiah looked to Camille. Both her and Frederic seemed nervous, but they had a little folder with them, and Isaiah immediately connected the dots.
"You're ready?" he asked.
The others look confused. Only Norman seemed to have caught on to what they wished to say. Perhaps they'd forgotten about the duo's promise to reveal to the group the secrets they held. Or maybe they don't want to make a scene.
Regardless, Camille and Frederic come forward, waiting for everyone to take their seats.
After clearing her throat, Camille started, "So, we know we've kept you all in the dark for….a while. Before Yvlen was moved to the medic bay, we discussed bringing it up."
"But then her situation just got worse and worse, and we decided that focusing on her well-being was more important," Frederic added.
"Right," Camille agreed, giving her husband a look of annoyance. "After she died, we believed it needed to wait."
"Why?" Velicity challenged.
Camille swallowed hard. "I'll reiterate what I said when we first got here. What we know took years and years of psychological conditioning to bear witness to. Having one of ours—a cadet no less—pass away was not going to make handling this information easier."
When Camille paused, it was Zubia that spoke up. "Well, go on now, darlin'. Tell us what you shoulda told us a while go." Her voice wasn't necessarily angry, but it definitely held a hostile undertone.
Frederic nodded, giving his wife the strength she needed to continue. Opening the file she had, she pulled a few pages from it and placed them face-down on the table, sliding it to the center.
"Before you view those, I want to tell you what Frederic, myself, and our comrades were taught at the very beginning of our conditioning," she said, turning the pages of her file. Taking a deep breath, she read, "'You've been chosen from the best of the best. Children of the Elite, cadets that have bested their comrades. Now, you move on to the next step of your training to be Caretakers.'"
Another deep shuddered breath. "'The first lesson is this; expect many of your prior teachings to fall short of those that will come. There are a lot of intricate, moving pieces of our society, and we expect you to either keep up with the change and accept it as it is or face permanent exile.'"
"Wait, how old were you?" Cheslin interrupted, his brows furrowed.
Frederic and Camille exchanged glances. "Same age as a new cadet," Frederic answered.
"Thirteen? You were thirteen?" Velicity asked, now leaning forward over the table.
The duo nod, confirming her words.
"After that little…entrance ceremony, we all got divided up into five groups, one per city. But, we didn't train in any of the five cities. All of our education, our combat training….it happened far from the domes and far from our people."
"An' where in the seven depths of hell was that?" Zubia asked.
Honestly, Isaiah was curious too. There were only three places where domes and Outer Boundary territory didn't cover. The two poles and a gassy wasteland running down the eastern side of the planet. None of them were livable, even for Domers with all the technology they boasted of having.
"The Deserts of the East," Frederic answered.
Isaiah's jaw nearly hit the floor.
"How?" Velicity asked.
"Listen, we can go into specifics of where the facility is and how we were able to live in that toxic wasteland. And it'd waste hours of our time. But I feel that our original subject at hand is far more important," Camille said, sidestepping the answer. Her voice had a tremble in it. Whatever else happened in that wasteland, she didn't feel like reliving.
"She's right," Isaiah added, hoping to quell his comrades' curiosity. "I want to know why the Wings are as dangerous as they are. There's not even a glimmer of hope for us to return if we don't know what we're up against."
Silent nods gave Camille all she needed to continue.
"The conditioning involved reading textbooks available to the children within our society and then reading companion textbooks that point out 'necessary lies' in those same textbooks. We were told that the foundations of our world were built around the Wings and our dire necessity for them.
"One of our classes consisted of retraining ourselves to no longer view the Wings as government leaders but as…."
"Gods," Frederic finished for her.
Camille nodded. "We were told to think like that because they essentially are. They're immortal beings that came from a world far beyond that of even 309." She looked to Frederic. He nodded, encouraging her following words. "Go ahead. You may look at those files. Just know that they're….not easily digestible."
Everyone around the table seemed frozen in their seats. Isaiah couldn't blame them. Immortality? Beings from beyond 309? What exactly were they, and how did they instill so much terror in the duo before him?
As a commander, he took it on himself to take the stapled papers, sliding them closer before flipping them over. The first page was just a bunch of writing. Talking about the Wing known as Sister and the role she played in governing the great cities. However, upon turning the page, the picture that burned itself into Isaiah's eyes followed him as he stumbled back and out of his chair to get away from it.
A half sphere sat atop a nude, gray-skinned body with plenty of muscle to support it. Despite this Wing being called Sister, it seemed anything but. Isaiah wasn't even sure it was human. It seemed like the sphere had some kind of liquid inside it, but it was hard to tell with the photo being black and white. Of course, the dressings that Wings commonly wore to visit each city were draped around the shoulders of the….thing, but it was all to cover what was held within the sphere.
Behind the curved glass was a single human brain.
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