Through the Walled Sky

There was no sky overlooking Pitstop. Only metal. An endless sheet of steel that stretched the entirety of the town and further into The Depths. Weatherless. Seasonless. Just a bland sea of gray. And this sea was also the source of Lynn’s discomfort.

Looking out of the car’s rear window, she felt trapped, caged in the primitive metal box with wheels. Caged under the gray ocean. It was like being in an aquarium drained of water. No wonder these mortals all had a screw loose in their heads. At least in The Mids, the mortals there bothered to build an artificial sky. A cheap imitation of the sky in The Surface, but she’d rather have that over this claustrophobic canopy.

But the skyless state of The Depths carried one benefit; it prevented the enemy’s use of aircraft. Perhaps a skilled enough pilot could maneuver that slightly less primitive vehicle, a helicopter, as she recalled, over town. But with that metal ceiling just under 500 feet above the ground, it would be riddled with holes in an instant.

What she didn’t anticipate, however, were toys. Tiny, remote-controlled quadcopters, the same ones that were sold in mortal hobby stores. She could not believe that even a professional military force would stoop to strapping bombs onto these toys. The mortals’ ingenuity couldn’t be denied, but the speed at which their warcraft evolved was making her head pound. It felt like only yesterday she was studying about arquebuses and muzzle-loading muskets. Now she had to worry about a whole other dimension of battle.

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Subject: Mia | Classif.: Barzakh

Mia did not share any of Lynn's concerns. Seated at the front passenger seat, shotgun stock nestled against her shoulder, the girl found the ride to be pleasant. She finally had an excuse to use birdshot ammo. Meant for hunting waterfowl in The Mids, they were proving to be an effective counter against the drones flying overhead. Having already downed four of them so far, this trip was starting off as a good session for target practice.

Zeroing in on the next drone hovering above, she squirmed around her seat searching for a good spot. Her small frame allowed her to wriggle into an unnatural position, her feet parked above the dashboard as her back pressed against the L-shaped fold of the seat. Was it uncomfortable? Maybe. But it wasn't like anyone was going to complain. The 12-gauge in her hands was a pretty compelling reason to keep them shut.

The little girl waited, her body becoming one with the vehicle, anticipating the bumps and anything that could throw her aim off. Sweat trailed down next to her unblinking eyes as her mind raced. The speed of the target. The speed of the car. The speed of the projectile. Everything moved so quickly in her head that time itself seemed to slow all around her. From the rumble of the exhaust pipe’s breathing to the conscious control of her own breath, even sound faded into nothingness. And when it returned, it was deafening.

Bang.

Tungsten ripped through the skyward air. Gravity struggled to keep its hold on the pellets. They charged toward the drone, hungry for its metal flesh. But that hunger wasn’t enough. The target hovered barely out of reach.

“Tch.”

Mia clicked her tongue, frustration escaping as she ejected the spent shell. Even though her aim was spot on, her calculations were off. The effective range of the unfamiliar birdshot cartridge still eluded her. She was so used to achieving perfect accuracy in close-quarters engagements that missing a target felt like missing a spot while cleaning. Unacceptable.

With her shot being off, she immediately glanced at her Dad. His attention was glued to the road ahead, but there was no way he didn't notice that. She expected disappointment. An insult or two for failing to live up to his standard as a marksman. But instead, all she saw was a gentle smile. One that read, don't push yourself. Cut yourself some slack.

But “slack” was not in Mia’s vocabulary. Only “shell," the name of the projectile she was loading into the shotgun. But this time, the weapon let out a deeper click. Round 2 was chambered with vengeance. And with this extra push, the next trigger pull sent the birdshot flying further than before. Just enough to graze one of its rotor blades. That was all it took to send it hurtling to the ground.

No satisfaction could be found on Mia’s face. There was only terror. The fact that the drone was falling instead of exploding meant only one thing.

“Dad!”

Tim slammed the clutch, yanking the handbrake as the steering wheel spun in controlled violence. The car slid, screeching in pain as its tires painted trails of black across the tarmac. Mia saw Lynn almost flying from her seat, caught off-guard by the car suddenly turning into a roller coaster. The Immortal looked like she was about to swear, only to hold her tongue. The grenade blast right outside would have ruined the comfortable seat she was on if not for the evasive maneuver.

The car swerved back to the straight, surviving the explosion by staying just beyond the blast radius. Dirt rained on the roof and windshield, leaving scratches on the new car. But Mia greatly preferred dirt and filth over shrapnel and holes. She could clean them off, after all. The engine roared in agreement.

“Sorry,” Mia uttered with her head down.

Tim reassured, “It’s okay.”

-----

Subject: N/A | Classif.: N/A

From the rearview mirror, streaks of light shot upward. Their radiance outshone the artificial lights of the town, banishing the darkness as the light show grew in size and number. For a brief moment, it was as if the skirmishes throughout town stopped. Soldiers and gangsters alike watched in awe as the skyless horizon turned yellow.

Mia and Lynn stared in nervous anticipation. Those lights were the coordinated assault of an MLRS. Multiple Launch Rocket System. The General really did not want them leaving Pitstop.

Realizing that the lights belonged to guided warheads, Lynn’s entire worldview collapsed. Her mind started to fracture as the whistles of the rockets grew louder. Sharper. Angrier. This kind of power had always belonged to Immortals. Since when did the mortals unlock this much destructive capability? Without Gifts or magic, no less.

Her blood pumped backwards, ice cold as her thoughts arrived at a terrifying realization. The timing was impeccable. The death of Council Member Vita. The evolution of mortal warfare. For hundreds of years, those below The Surface could never challenge those above. Until now.

Mia leaned out of the window, aiming at the missiles, but there were simply too many. For the first time in a long while, she hesitated. Her fingers trembled. The weapon in her hands felt so, so tiny. At any moment, the wind blowing against her could just whisk it away.

“On my mark.” Tim’s voice snapped her shaken confidence back into place.

With his left hand on the wheel, Tim bit down on his right hand. Hard. Blood filled his mouth as his teeth punctured into flesh and bone. Seeing this, Mia knew right away what had to be done.

“Three.”

Even with his voice muffled, his tone was steady. It stayed that way as he yanked his entire hand off the wrist. His head jerked, exposing the tip of the bones in his forearm.

“Two.”

His left hand snatched the mutilated body part out of his teeth. Sinew and tissue stretched out like a rubber band.

“One.”

Tim threw his hand out of the car and into the air, the bloody piece of meat glowing black against the shining lights that canvassed the walled sky.

“Now!”

There was no time for calculations. Mia’s thoughts, emotions, her everything now rested in the complete faith entrusted by her father. Everything gave way for this singular shot.

Click.

The trigger was pulled. Sound itself held its breath. The flying lights stopped. Everything stopped.

In that moment, a black sun engulfed the false sky.

Tim’s hand, the vessel of Blackblood, shattered. Pellets ignited the glowing, unstable fluid within. Flames, the color of shadow, pulled in the surrounding air. The missiles. Sound frequencies. Light itself. From a single ball of fire, the rockets around it detonated. Each explosion triggered the next. But none touched the ground. Not even a piece of shrapnel.

The all-consuming nature of Tim’s blood absorbed everything around it. Be it poison or pyroclasm, nothing could escape. And as his right hand regenerated, the dark streaks in the air vanished. All traces of magic and metal were gone. Light returned to fill the void. Relief returned to their hearts.

Mia turned around, flashing a smug smile at the panic-stricken Lynn. As if to rub the words, “You’re nothing compared to my Dad,” all over the Immortal’s face. She wasn’t one for boasting, but when it came to her father, she had to let everyone know he was the best. That this was what a real parent looked like. Nothing like the two monsters she once knew on The Surface.

Lynn could only look away, offended and annoyed. Her downcast gaze pierced through the window by her side, landing on the ruins of mortal civilization. The closer they got to the southern border of Pitstop, the more barren and destroyed the town looked.

Past wars, waged long ago, scarred the buildings and earth around here. The road itself turned from concrete to dirt. There had been attempts to restore this part of town by the Big Four, but all had been abandoned. This place was simply too far from the town square to be worth it.

Mia kept her eyes peeled on the air above them, but there were no drones in sight. Maybe they lost them during the counter-explosion earlier. Looking down, there were no signs of an ambush, either. This entire area was too quiet. And she hated it.

But not Tim. He loved the lull, even if it was only temporary. If trouble arose, the future him would deal with it. Let the current him take a break. Enjoy the ride. He earned this much, especially after dodging bombs and firefights.

Speeding down the empty straight, the air passing through the open windows felt fresher. No longer did they carry the scent of death. They brought life. It was the smell of nature. The familiar smell of the forest he grew with his own two hands. He could practically see it at the very end of the road.

At the end, a long arched bridge connected Pitstop to the rest of The Depths. There was no river or water source beneath it. Only a canyon. Far more ancient than the battles that took place in town, its creation was likely inhuman. As if some colossal being attempted to climb the Spire, its fingers digging into the earth, leaving behind this valley in its wake.

As they traversed the bridge, Mia looked behind, the town she called home becoming smaller and smaller. So many things have happened, but in the end, she left with her heart filled with warm memories. Little did she know, her heart had room for one more. One last, explosive memory.

She felt her stomach moving upward. She was falling. The support beams that held the bridge blew up. Tim fought to keep the car moving forward, trying to outrun gravity. But it all happened so fast. How did the military even plant these explosives in the first place?

That was the wrong question. Abandon the car? Shield Mia? Keep going? There was no time to think.

“Keep going.”

That voice wasn’t from his head. It was Lynn’s.

“I said, ‘Keep going!’”

The Immortal opened the rear door. Tim had no idea what she was doing; he could only hope as he floored the accelerator. The engine rumbled in desperation. Lynn slammed her hand against the deck of the bridge, her skin peeling off from the friction as the vehicle charged ahead.

She gritted her teeth. The pain from her flesh being seared off could be felt down to her very nerves. This was not the same as being caught in an explosion that vaporized in an instant. This was slow. Agonizing.

But she refused to back down, channeling even more magic into the pieces of her hand that were still there. If Mortis could bite his own hand off, this was nothing. She refused to be outdone. Not by a traitor. Not by mortals. Not by that woman. More than anything else.

She would see this through even if it meant grinding her hand into dust.

The earth beneath the canyon acknowledged her defiance. Soil and dirt heeded her call, rushing through the gaps between the collapsing concrete, forming a massive ramp that sent the car flying at the very last moment.

The orange chariot soared through the air, leaving behind a monochrome rainbow over the canyon. Some claimed to see it. Others speculated it was another missile being launched. But only the walled sky overhead witnessed what it truly was.

One last goodbye to the town called Pitstop.