Ch 10: Voices in the Dark

Ace’s ears perked up. Was Hiro lying?

He felt his consciousness become buried by the thought. Possibilities flowed like streams of water surging into rivers of questions, and then a vast ocean full of even more unknowns.

Why? Why would he lie to me?

A sense of betrayal pierced Ace’s heart. Hiro, the person who heroically saved his life,
had been stringing him along this whole time? It didn’t make sense to Ace, not yet.

Could Hiro have known Cecilias' whereabouts this whole time?

He repeated the conversation he had overheard in his head. Still, it made no sense to him. Ace sifted through the memories of the past few days; now, every interaction with Hiro was besmirched in a different light— stained with paranoia and cynicism. It did seem too coincidental for him to have been in the right place at the right time to save him.

Ace now knew he had to be cautious. But he also knew that Hiro had to be cautious of him, too. Perhaps he could somehow use that to his advantage. However, the more pressing issue was not being noticed. To play the fool.

“You, okay? Ya look kinda pale.”

“No, I'm perfectly fine. Just…tired, that’s all.”

“Come on, have a cigarette. You’ll feel better.” Hiro said, tilting his head.

Ace picked up the cigarette from Hiro’s hands.

Cecilia, please forgive me!

He lifted his finger, picturing a flame toasting. A small flame flickered before vanishing like a lighter running out of butane.

“Here,” Hiro lit the cigarette for him, “You’re almost there, the practice is paying off.”

Breathing in, a warm sensation billowed through his mouth, lightly singeing his throat before filling his lungs. Ace scrunched his face, a quick buzz rushing through his head. Violently, he erupted into a stifled cough.

Hiro chuckled. “That always happens the first few times.”

“It tastes horrible. What do you even like about them?”

“Ya get used to it after a while. Taste and smell. Once that happens, the nicotine hitting your bloodstream will be euphoric.”

As Ace struggled to smoke the rest of his cigarette, Hiro kept talking.

“The best way to find Cecilia would be to start by searching the largest groups.”

Scaria and all its sectors were split into four major territories: the Barrens, the Nexus Quarter, Celestia, and the Phoenix Cradle. Apart from the Barrens, each of the three was run by its respective organisation.

The Nexus Legion ruled the Nexus Quarter. Hefty spell-tech machinery enforced and patrolled its borders; hell, even their ruler was a machine. Akranos—The dreaded sovereign invention. Forewarned that it would be the finale of humanity itself, it was now worshipped as an artificial deity, the key to divine knowledge.

Celestia was home to the ‘cultists’ as Hiro called them. Raucous, occult mages eternally pledged to religion. A sprawling dominion spanning even the neighbouring countries, the Cult of Worship comprised of three sects, each with three priests—the Sect of Celestia, ordained by the Priest of the Moon, Sun, and Stars.

Lastly was the Phoenix Syndicate—a strict matriarchy governed by an echelon eight fire mage.
Combustion incarnate, a well-spread rumour was that a single spell of hers was responsible for turning the bustling merchant citadel of Picket into what was now known as the Ashen City.

As Hiro continued his explanation, he turned and walked toward the fridge, but he didn’t open the door; instead, he reached behind it.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m sorry, but,” Hiro grunted, pulling with excessive force, “the Bocari Sweet is going to be warm from now on.”

“NOOO NOT THE FRIDGE!” Ace sighed.

First the aircon and now the fridge?

Returning to the sofa, Hiro placed coloured shards on the table, runes inscribed on their glassy surfaces, alongside a burnished marigold gem and a steel-silver rifle, landing with clinks and a clang.

“The Law of the conversion of Aether. It cannot be created or destroyed in a closed system. It can only be converted from one form to another.” Hiro quipped, his arms crossed like a pretentious professor.

“I’ve modded the rifle with a super shot; this crystal should keep it going for now.”

Super shot. Ace wasn’t quite sure what he meant, but it sure as hell sounded cool.
I mean, surely it was, if the fridge had to be sacrificed.

“Here are some rune stones, crush them and they’ll give ya a brief power-up. That should be enough to keep you alive. Probably.”

“Keep me alive?! Whose after me?”

“To survive the library. Relax, no one’s coming after you.”

Yeah sure, buddy. Absolutely no one.

The Forgotten Library was a grand annual event that occurred in Scaria—an archaic labyrinth filled with lost tomes and scriptures. Dating back to the great rune era, prudent scholars and fervent mages alike would contribute to the prestigious archive of twisting halls and shifting rooms. Now, more than a thousand years later, with the librarian missing, it had become a spectacle for gambling and entertainment. Naive adventurers attempted to defeat its lurking monsters in search for long-lost knowledge. Conveniently, the gangs often used it as a training ground and to scout out new talent.

“Place your hand over it and pour in aether,” Hiro said, retrieving a familiar crystal gadget.

Words poured into Ace’s brain.

Under prophetic fallacies bequeathed to you, though a forsaken anathema, one holds true.

“What does it say?”

Ace considered whether to tell the truth or twist it into a lie. But before he could speak, Hiro cut him off.

“Remember it and keep it in mind for next week.”

Having no clue what the words meant, Ace nodded.

“Now,” Hiro sat up, crushing the can in his hand, “Let’s go.”

“Go?”

                                                                                ***

Sector 8 — Five Days Later

Blood. An agonizing, nauseating pain. Ace curled over, heaving, his stomach retching, but there was nothing left to empty.

His brief moment of vomiting was an opportunity. And, of course, it wasn’t overlooked.

SLAM!
Ace impacted the ground hard enough to bounce back into the air before landing with another thud.

“Again. Come on, Ace, is that all you got? Forget learning to cast spells, you can’t even fortify your body with aether.”

Ace clenched his fists. Torment shooting through every limb.

Through the last few days, Ace had been through hell.

“What are you gonna do if the enemy finds you unarmed? You ain‘t ever finding Cecilia at this rate.”

Ace spat out the blood pooling in his mouth onto the dying grass; he knew Hiro was trying to provoke him. Yet it had no effect. He was already doing as much as he could.

“Again. You need to be quicker. Recover faster. Your breathing is inefficient. Do you think they’re gonna give you a few seconds breather mid-battle? This ain’t some anime where people take ten minutes calling out their next move.”

Ace stumbled back to his feet, wiping the blood from his nose. But Hiro was already closing in—a high kick. Ace ducked, the wind rippling past his head. There. An opening. Ace extended his left foot, feinting the sweep before leading with an elbow. Hiro pivoted, the elbow just passing his face. With a quick knee to the chest, Ace buckled, gasping for breath.

“People say that if want something bad enough, you’d have it. So what are you doing? Get back up.” Hiro remarked, not a bead of sweat on his body.

The Forgotten Library opened in only two days. Teeming with ancient monsters and traps set by long-dead sorcerers and scholars alike, guarding its lost wisdom.

“If this is all you can do, maybe I should’ve let you jump off back in the Barrens.”

This son of a b*tch.

Picturing Cecilia’s angelic smile in his mind, Ace rose back to his feet.

I’m gonna find you. No matter what it takes.

                                                                                 ***

Sector ???

Shrouded in darkness, a tall silhouette erupted into crazed laughter, his voice echoing into the pitch-black night. The musk of withered flesh floated through the air.

Candles, scalpels, and various surgical tools lay around the room. Foreign symbols and rune circles blanketed the walls. A map of the occult, papers and pictures, linked by hundreds of red strings and pins. In the centre of the room was an ominous black chair with chains and shackles, and from it lingered the desperate cries of tormented souls.

“After all these years, I’ve finally got a lead.

I knew you were still out there somewhere, hiding in the shadows.

Now that I know that you're nearby. You can run, but you can't hide.

It must have been you who summoned him here after all.”