Down Paradise Way

“I TOLD YOU I DON’T KNOW ANYTHINAAAAAAAAHHHHH!!!”

The thrashing body of a man hung from the ceiling of the chamber, tight chains wrapped around his wrists, binding them together. His bare body, covered in bruises and red hot slashes, continued to convulse with fear. Screams erupted and flew from his mouth, the hours of torture leaving not much left of a sane mind.

“Dispose of him, he’s useless to me now,” a voice dripped indifferently, as the man it belonged to stepped out of the soundproof room.

“You have a call coming in, sir. Shall I connect you?” echoed a robotic voice, programmed to imitate that of a woman.

The man’s features were smooth, polished, except for a scar that ran down his left cheek, splitting his upper lip. His hair was indigo but it shimmered like foil. Wrapped over his body was a midnight coloured ulster coat, and jagged crystalline armour that ran across his shoulders and spine. His features were like that of an emperor, his expressions usually stoic and impenetrable. But not now, now he had an annoyed scowl.

“Put it through.”

Pale stone paneled the walls of the room he stood in, the floor glowing faintly in the moonlight. Near the windows was placed an ornate desk, perfectly centered, backlit by a panoramic window that overlooked the sprawl of Pareidolia.

Above, the ceiling was high, echoing, giving the impression of grandeur without warmth. The acoustics made even the smallest sounds feel deliberate, the soft creak of a chair, the clink of a glass of water, the disembowelling of a man behind a vaulted door.

A massive screen covering the eastern wall of the suite lit up with the sputtering image of a veiled figure glitching like it was footage from another realm. It was impossible to make out any personal features, but no features were needed to know the substance of the voice hissing like television static.

“There has been an update, Iscarius, one that requires your immediate attention. The details have been sent directly to your EYE, for your viewing only.”

The voice paused before continuing, choosing their words carefully. “I want this matter eradicated as timely as possible. I will be awaiting news of your success.”

The image instantly darkened before he could give any reply, Iscarius now looking only at his own reflection on the screen’s surface. With his right palm turned upwards, he toyed with his resonance as though it were a chess piece, twisting and convulsing the orchid purple energy into evolving shapes.

“Sir, would you like the provided information to begin processing?”

Iscarius sat high above the ruins of Pareidolia, floating amongst the clouds so the dirt wouldn’t stain his shoes. He closed his eyes, clenched his hand into a fist, and spoke to his EYE.

“Yes. Let’s begin.”

***

“Lain you in here?” Surazal called out, stepping into the lush overgrown greenhouse.

“Hush, Surazal, the boy is sleeping. I’m sure it has been a while since he had some proper rest.”

Lucius had fallen asleep in Lain’s arms, and she had gently placed him down onto a bed of soft flowers.

A grin crossed Surazal’s face as he looked down at the sleeping boy. “You knocked him out, didn’t you?”

“I didn’t ‘knock him out’, Tranquil Terra just happens to be very soothing. Come closer, maybe it’ll work on you too,” she amusingly replied.

Surazal sat down on the crystal bench by the fountain next to her, nodding to sleeping Lucius.

“Grimebank sees something in the boy. I’m not sure what. He seems so…lacking, just as weak as everyone else.”

Lain gently ran her delicate fingers through Lucius’s hair. “No, he’s right, this boy is special. In time, his resonance will reach the surface, I can feel it. He reminds me of Grimebank, maybe that is what he sees as well. Maybe he sees himself.”

Even though the sun had set over the city with the moon taking its place, the greenhouse was still as bright as a midsummer day. The shadows from the foliage danced around them like children playing in tall grass, and the sounds of the fountain’s rushing water echoed an ambient tune. This chamber was frozen in time, and within the glass walls, all was right with the world.

Lain reached behind her flowing white dress and picked up a crumbled piece of old newspaper, holding it up to Surazal. “This fell out from his pocket when I laid him down. Look.”

Surazal took the paper in his hands, not needing to look at it for more than a second.

“This is…how does he…” Confusion and curiosity painted his face.

Lain gave a small smile, her hands still running through Lucius’s black hair. “There is a lot to show him. But not right now. For now, he just needs to rest.”

***

Descending down to a place where the air smelled of iron and rain, a stairwell wound forever in a coil like Ouroboros, lit by red lanterns that swung without wind. At the bottom, the world opened into tunnels that stretched like veins, pulsing faintly with a heartbeat that shifted the colours of the walls.

They were waiting there, the three figures who had come to visit. Each bore a different wound, a different mask, but together they formed something cosmic, something godly. They called themselves We. Their voices overlapped, rising and falling like a chant from the bottom of a well.

“That’s the one,” a figure whispered, though their lips never moved. “The one who will set us free.”

Pulled toward the center, the floor gave way to a circular pit, a well filled will black aura oozing out like hot tar that scoured the ground around it with an ashen cloud of cinder.

“Come join us,” a voice called out. “We have been waiting for you.”

The filth breathed like an animal on the hunt, vast and patient, its darkness convulsing and retching violently. A caged beast craving for a taste of flesh.

In an instant, all was transformed into a landscape caught between two worlds, a single house set ablaze on top of an impossibly steep hill. The house’s amber flames soared towards the sky, flooding the clouds like the bottom of a pool. Jeweled flames came to a distant end, returning the house to an ordinary state, but the flames returned once more, and the cycle went on and on.

Against the side of the hill was an erratic bull with a snake wrapped around its horns. The bull continued to ram the snake into the slanted earth, beating it senselessly long past when it had taken its last breath.

A hand shaded like a black hole reached up over the house’s flames, strangling the air with a heartless laugh and casting an aura of ill omens, continuing to reach down to the base of the hill.

A hissing voice called out from all sides, wrapping in closer like a three headed serpent and extending with it an offering of sacrifice, an offering of revitalization.

“Open your heart, Lucius. Reach out to us. Take it, this black soul. Take it and it all shall be yours.”

Lucius’s eyes bolted open, sitting up quickly and covering his face, trying to rub the blood back into his skin.

“These nightmares are getting worse,” he whispered under his breath, the flowers around him changing hues to match his sullen mood.

The overhanging vines coiled and swirled across the tall sky, yet all conjoined at one area hidden from view by the vast plant line.

He followed the spiral stone path, passing by violet ferns, silver mosses, flowers whose petals bled from one shade into another, orchids with tongues of phosphorescent pollen like stars shaken loose from the night sky. He followed the path to its end, standing in the center of the glass room.

Right in front of him, placed on a small bed of soil that had recently been tended and watered, a small tree rose with its bark pale and veined like granite, its branches heavy with the weight of what it must soon bear, though it was barely more than a sapling.

Faint whispers could almost be heard through the damp air, like leaves brushing against one another, but more precise, more purposeful. This place reminded Lucius of somewhere, or maybe of a place he would soon come to know.

“Lucius, there you are,” a voice soothed from behind him. “How was your rest?”

Lain looked captivating as she stood under an archway of lively foliage, her clement nature passing on to the plants around her.

“I…dreamt that I was falling through my own mind,” Lucius replied.

Lain smiled. “This place can have that effect on dreams, it is both a blessing and a curse. I suppose it all depends on what is truly inside your heart.”

Walking over, her flowing dress reminded him of a gentle breeze creating waves across a lonely beach. Her mere presence casted a veil over her surroundings, a shadow of calm and peace.

“Surazal and I would like to take you somewhere, if you are up for it.”

Summoned by name, Surazal appeared behind her, his stern expression looking a little less stern. He remained quiet, allowing Lain to speak for both of them.

“Where, somewhere close by? Because I’d like to talk to Grimebank again if he’s still around here.”

“He will be back, but this would be best with just the three of us.”

Lucius was unsure about what they had in mind, but for reasons unknown even to him, he trusted them.

“Okay, sure. We can go. When do we leave?”

Lain reached over with her right hand and held Lucius, and with her left held Surazal, closed her eyes and breathed slowly. A white glow started to illuminate from her body like she was releasing clouds that lived beneath her skin. Traveling down her arms, the essence poured out through the tips of her delicate fingers.

“Right now.”

In a flash of light they were gone, and the greenhouse resumed its silence.