The rain had finally passed over the city, and the golden shine of the sun had once again graced the face of Apocrypha. Thin blue skies had brought a cheer to the city once more, and not a single cloud was present. Everything seemed lighter with the rain gone. The people were only glad that they had finally gotten rid of the Devil, and they seemed to think the appearance of the sun was a sign that fortune was once more shining upon them.
In the air, talk was all praise.
“I hear she’s gone! Finally, she’s gone!”
“I heard that it was the Adonai who took her away! Finally, our savior has answered our pleas!”
Among the crowd, Captain Emerson walked, his ears picking up the people’s tones. They were happy, that was for sure. They were glad to be rid of Astrid; the people were glad that they had no one left to hate. He knew they hated her because she was different, but he also knew that they didn’t know what she was. What it really was—that the true reason they hated her was not that she was different. No. He knew that wasn’t the case. The real reason they despised her so was that they feared her. They feared her because of her eyes; they feared her because they didn’t know what she was.
But Emerson knew. He knew exactly was she was, and he had to admit, he somewhat feared her too.
Astrid, he thought, you didn’t deserve the repulsive and abhorrent treatment that the people of this city gave you. He sighed. Oh, you who were not meant to be born; you who were given no name until that day—that faithful day—you did not deserve to be hated. You couldn’t help how you were born; it was out of your control.
Captain Emerson continued walking forward as he remained lost in thought, swept up deeply in his considerations about Philos and Uri, about the Angel, and about the Devil that they were about to risk their lives to save.
He sighed as he pulled out a cigarette. Why can’t anything just be normal?
The brilliant sun shone down upon his brown skin, and his gilded armor seemed to glow under the celestial rays. Emerson made his way through the marketplace and turned the corner to find himself staring directly at the storefront of Burns’ Coffeehouse. He stopped. Something was curious. Something was off, not right. It didn’t take long for him to figure out what exactly was the matter.
The windows were dark, and no light shone from within.
I swear to One above, Drew...!
Frustration suddenly flickered through the captain’s mind, causing his left eye to slightly twitch. Quickly, he approached the door. Before him, posted eye level, was a note.
Ire filled his blood with heat as he ripped the note from the door and read it...
I am sorry to inform you, dearest customers, that due to being short-staffed, Burn’s Coffeehouse has closed permanently.
Thank you all for your continued support throughout the years.
With sincerity,
Pal Burns
P.S. Don’t be too angry, Emerson!
Emerson clenched his fist. This was bad. Very bad.
“First you let him take Philos and Uri, and now you’re leaving, too!” he raged aloud. “You old bastard!”
But, through his anger, he knew what this meant. Whether good or bad, he did not know, but he knew it meant one thing in particular. The Resistance Army was on the move. That was the name the people had given them. But Emerson knew who they really were. He knew their true name. They were the Black Roses.
And they were going to change the world.
“So, the chief is on the move, is he?” Gilliam said, reading a scroll. He had left the bar some time ago, his duties as a Black Rose leading him in another direction.
“And you say the Starborn are here?” the man in black said, who had delivered the message.
Gilliam raised an eyebrow. “It is where they are supposed to be,” he said as frosty mist exited his mouth. “They are going to challenge my brother. They’re going to challenge the Adonai.”
“And how do you feel about that?”
“My brother and I do not see eye-to-eye, one could say. If he dies, I will mourn, but that is all.”
“You think they can do it? Save that girl?”
Gilliam said nothing for a moment, then smiled. “I believe they can. Those boys seem good-hearted. And the chief raised them, after all. Perhaps we will be surprised in the end.”
The man in black turned, his masked face directed toward the giant Emerald Gate. “But first they have to get through the wall.”
Gilliam looked upward as well. “Well, we will just have to see what happens then, won’t we...?”
The bar remained empty; the presence of the halo above Sir Smith’s head made sure of that. Outside, the townsfolk gathered, their cautious eyes staring into the tavern with a mixture of fear and wonderment. The crowd was tight, everyone daring to get a glimpse of the angel only at a distance—daring to commit the sin of looking at the circle of light above his head.
“Excuse me!” The voice of a woman rose above the crowd.”I’m coming through!”
“You’re mad!” a man said as the middle-aged woman pushed past him.
“He’ll take you in as a slave!” One of the men grabbed her by the arm to stop her approach. “Don’t you value your freedom!”
“That’s nonsense!” the woman shot back as she jerked her arm from his grip. “I just need to talk to them.”
“You’re crazy, you batty old woman!” the man said, his voice a frustrated huff. “It’s your funeral!”
“They helped my little Dalt!” the woman said, stepping out of the crowd. “It’s only right that I thank them properly!”
Uri yawned as he watched the evening sunlight peer in through the window of the bar.
“I think we’ve traveled far enough,” Philos said upon seeing his little brother rub his eyes.
“I suppose you are correct.” Sir Smith added with an impassive shrug. ‘We’d best find an inn. What do our funds look like?”
“Well,” Uri reached into their bag and pulled out a small wallet. “We have—“ The young teen stopped mid-sentence as he opened the empty wallet.
“We have...” Joseph began.
“...no money...?” Philos sighed, finishing for his friend.
Silently and slowly, everyone at the table turned glaring eyes to Alphonso.
“Wha—” he said, still chewing, “what’s up?”
“It’s obvious,” Joseph growled.
“Hey, uh, Fonzie...” Philos smiled, counting the clean white plates stacked in front of his friend. “How much food did you order, exactly?”
“Well, I got one of everything, of course!”
“You got...” Uri started.
“...one of...” Joseph continued.
“EVERYTHING?!” Everyone at the table exploded.
“Well, yeah,”—Alphonso flexed his large biceps—“gotta feed all these muscles!”
“I’m going to kill him,” Joseph said blankly.
“Just try it, puppy dog!” Alphonso said, continuing to chew.
“I’m a cat—!”
“Excuse me, Mr. Angel,” a voice said, catching their attention.
Everyone at the table turned to see an older woman, her worn brown eyes staring intently at Sir Smith. “I wanted to thank you for your efforts in saving my little Dalt!”
Sir Smith said nothing; instead, he merely sipped his drink.
“I’m s-sorry if he caused you any trouble,” she said. “I hope you will be kind enough to forgive us and our lowly town, O great Angel—“
“They saved him.” Sir Smith cut her off, pointing at his company. “The troubles of a rustic mischief-maker are not mine to meddle in, woman.”
The middle-aged woman was quiet for a moment, her gaze turning to the boys.
“You,” she began, “you were the ones who saved my little Dalt?”
“Yep!” Philos smiled happily. “How is he, by the way?”
“He...” She couldn’t help but smile at the young man’s happy-go-lucky demeanor. “He is just fine, thanks to you! He came home talking about how some really nice travelers saved him from Captain Wolfe’s henchmen! I’ve told him not to mess with them, but he’s always causing trouble.” She sighed. “I just can’t keep up.”
Uri perked up. “I’m glad to hear he’s doing okay!”
“Yes! He is! Come see him yourself!” The woman bowed. “My name is Judine. I own a little inn on the south side of town. I’m sure that you’re very tired! Please, I can give you rooms. Free of charge!”
The boys looked at each other, then at Sir Smith, who merely shrugged.
Philos smiled. “Sounds great!”
The sun was setting, falling behind the Emerald Gate to bathe the town of Hazelnut in shadow. Golden light illuminated the green stones of the towering and all-encompassing edifice. Upon its summit, a man in gray armor stood at the rails, his wolf-like eyes peering down at the darkening town below.
“Tell me again, Fox,” he said to the three soldiers behind him. “Were three young men and a boy truly enough to send you packing?”
“Captain Wolfe!” the short soldier from before said as he knelt. “These weren’t just regular guys!’
“Yeah!” the masked woman said, holding a bandaged hand, “Fox is right! These guys knew how to fight!”
“You too, Hyena?” Captain Wolfe turned around, turning his eyes to the large man. “And what of you, Hound?”
“We were caught off guard,” the big man answered.
Fox, Hyena, and Hound all felt shivers up their spine as Captain Wolfe stared them down. Those eyes of his, their color like dried blood, always made the soldiers wonder what he was thinking. Wolfe was a rough, coarse man, and because of this, the three never knew if they would die on the battlefield or by his hand.
“No matter,” Captain Wolfe said as he turned, the high winds whipping his long black hair across his face. “You said that they were defending a boy?”
“Yes, Captain!” Fox said, bowing his head. “It was the runt that was always causing problems!”
Wolfe laughed, “Ah! I remember that one. Maybe killing his parents wasn’t enough to make him stay in line? And now it seems that we have a few more meddlers in the mix,” he spoke under his breath. “Perhaps these are the ones that gave the Adonai so much trouble.”
“You want us to make ‘em bleed, Captain?!” Hyena shouted.
“Oh, in due time, dear Hyena. You’ll get your bloodbath, but...” The tall captain turned around to face his soldiers. Bright golden light lit his pale skin and reddish eyes. “Why don’t we have a little fun with our new visitors, eh?”
“Sure thing, Cap’n!” Fox smiled. “But what are we gonna do?”
Wolfe smirked devilishly. “Just do exactly as I say. By the end of this night, we won’t have to worry about anyone challenging us again!” He turned. “No. They’ll never pass through the Emerald Gate!”
Dusk was falling, its fading light slowly giving way to the encroaching blackness of night.
Astrid watched the Adonai as he stood at the large window in his office and peered down at Talvory City below.
“I don’t understand,” she said finally after going the whole day in sullen silence.
The giant man said nothing, his eyes fixated on the town below, his massive hands clasped behind his back. Every time Astrid got a good look at him, he filled her with fear. He was so muscular, as if he had spent his entire life training to be the warrior he was today.
Astrid yanked the cuffs around her feet, causing the chains bolted to the wall to clank.
“You’ve had me in here this whole time, yet you haven’t said anything or made any...” She paused. “Unwanted advances.”
“I don’t care about your body in that way,” he said after a moment of silence, “I don’t care about you at all, for that matter. All that is important is that I harness your powers for the sake of mankind.”
“Mankind?”
Silence ensued. Astrid shivered, the cold words of the Adonai bubbling along her skin.
“You are the weapon that will liberate us from the Morning Star Kingdom. What happens to you is irrelevant. You are but a means to an end.”
“What am I, then?” Astrid shot back. “Why do you need my power so badly?!”
“It does not matter. Once our scientists perform the proper experiments, I will understand your magic fully. You aren’t what I hoped. I had hoped the Starblood would be in Apocrypha, but apparently I was wrong.” His sigh was growl-like. “I thought you were of the Unholy Line of Vespira, but perhaps I was mistaken.”
“Mistaken?”
“The flames of Vespira—the flames of the unholy beast—are white, not black like yours. But.” He paused. “You have an immense magical presence—perhaps one that surpasses what I imagined would be created by the Starblood.” The Adonai turned, his eyes piercing and frigid. “You are my ultimate weapon. And if extracting your power kills you, well, it will be an honorable and necessary death.”
Night was falling soon, the light of the life-giving sun disappearing behind the Emerald Gate, the towering fortification that loomed over Hazelnut Village, barring anyone who dared dream of traveling through it. The gate absolutely lived up to its name, its tall length formed by green bricks made of sea stones that were brought here by the gate’s creators some two hundred years prior. No one knew who built it or the true reason it was constructed, though the common consensus was simply that the big green gate was built as a bulwark to defend against the Angelic forces that would dare threaten anyone beyond the wall.
But that wasn’t the most impressive feature the wall had. The most astounding element was its length. The majestic and enigmatic quality of the Emerald Gate was that it seemed to extend forever, and so incredible was its breadth that it was virtually impossible to find a place where one could bypass it.
But it was of no consequence to the phantasmagoric Starbreather as he floated unseen above the town. He stood there in the air, his blood-red eyes peering downward.
Something is going to happen, he thought. Ooooo! Fun, fun!
He swirled and flipped around effortlessly, the galaxies upon his skin clashing, and stars along his flesh becoming bright supernovas.
But, alas, he remained unseen. It was not the time. He knew this.
He gazed through the roof of the inn at the boys and Sir Smith.
It is not yet time...
But soon the Starblood will scream...
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