VERSE TWO

The Ultimate Gift

Our Imagination

The Power of Creation

Reality Translation

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The trip to the survey site was near-instant. There wasn’t much their Mother and Father could do to stop both brothers from going; they could fight for and appeal for only one to be sent, but if Oberon and Elio said it was either both of them or neither of them, the science officer had a very simple decision to make.

It only took a few minutes to prepare and teleport Elio, Oberon, and the presently unknown science officer to an expansive, clean white room. Hundreds of other young men and women filled only a small portion of the space, meandering and conversing with one another, with only a scant few standing silently, focused on the congregation of masked scientists and officials across the room. The floors, walls, and ceiling hummed with energy, and Oberon felt nauseous within the confines.

Oberon? Are you alright?

Elio’s voice pierced Oberon’s mind telepathically.

Through the unease, Oberon focused and responded through the mental link Elio had just forged.

I feel…debilitated here. Something about this chamber is…affecting me.

As if in response to the conversation, a voice calls out, addressing the crowd.

Some of you may be experiencing discomfort. That is to be expected. This is a state-of-the-art government installation. The entire facility is encompassed by an arcane field with the sole purpose of warding off or disrupting extraplanar threats. If you are one of the few of mixed ancestry…I can only hope you adapt soon. We don’t have time to waste on those incapable of keeping pace.

A faint warm pulse washes over Oberon; the discomfort slowly but surely fades. He turns toward Elio. Without looking toward him, Elio simply gives a small smile, but his eyes remain focused on the government officials at the front of the group.

The official addressing the room continues.

For the duration of this survey, you may call me The Professor. The names of my associates here will be simple numerical values, which you will use to address them. In a few moments, you will all be split into batches of two hundred and fifty. Your batches will be organized in accordance with parameters set by us to ensure a consistent spread of results in the tests to come.

The Professor waves his hand forward, and his ten associates begin to fan out across the room. A voice comes to Oberon’s mind. An unfamiliar one.

Subject Oberon Aurum, you are being assigned to Batch J. I am TWO, your proctor for the next two weeks. Please remain where you are for now, but when you are called upon, step to the front of the room.

Oberon looks toward his brother. Elio’s eyes track something through the crowd, but his mind seems partially elsewhere, as he seemingly receives a message similar to the one Oberon just received. Before Oberon can say anything, Elio speaks to him telepathically once more.

I’ve been placed in Batch D under the supervision of SEVEN.

Oberon responds, trying to get a bead on what Elio is looking at. The Professor speaks to the room.

Batch A, step forward! All others step back.

For a moment, confusion and staggered movement, but slowly, the crowd shifts. The two hundred and fifty individuals of Batch A all walk forward. Some reluctantly, others with an intensity behind their eyes. Their proctor stands at the head of the batch, scanning each face for a few minutes, before turning to The Professor and nodding. The Professor waves a hand, and the entire batch, proctor included, vanishes in a flash of arcane energy.

The remaining individuals murmur. Such a feat of transposition magic is quite something to witness, and it both disturbs and impresses many of those present. Without more time to think on the act or ask Elio for his thoughts, the Professor calls out again.

Batch B, step forward!

Over the next hour and a half, group after group is brought forward. Elio and Oberon were separated early on. There were dropouts; some combined one hundred and five from across the first nine batches did not wish to continue and were pulled aside and taken away. At the very end, Oberon’s batch was finally called on to depart for the survey.

He and his fellow members of Batch J all step forward. Not one from Batch J withdrew from the survey, making them the largest group to continue thus far.

The Professor waves his hand over the group, and the world around Oberon begins to swim with color. His comprehension of reality and perception of space and surroundings bends, compresses, and stretches. Then, in an instant, it all snaps back to normalcy. He and his fellows now stand in a dimly lit chamber with nothing more than medical beds in numerous rows at their backs. Proctor TWO, facing the crowd, head cocked to the side in a look of intrigue. Proctor TWO, by appearances, is a tall, lithe woman with long auburn hair and a playful disposition. She stands just a hair taller than Oberon and has in her possession a pair of hip-strapped wand holsters, each equipped with four wands of differing colored stones as her only visible weaponry. Oberon notices that her wrists are gauntlets with a space for blades, but no blade is visibly equipped.

The woman speaks, her voice smooth and level.

Hello, Batch J. It’s an honor to be your proctor. I hope we can get along and make this survey efficient and fun. Let’s save the rest of our introductions for later. Could you all lay on the tables behind you, please?

Oberon feels a wave of magic impact him and twist its way through his mind and into his psyche. The words spoken by the proctor are sweet like sugar, but the magic lacing them is bitter. Oberon strains to resist the mental intrusion and compulsion imposed upon him and, apparently, everyone else in the Batch.

Roughly three-quarters of the Batch all turn and walk toward the two hundred-plus tables arrayed in the back of the room. They walk over in unison and lie down; once there, the beds flash with magic and the beds, along with their occupants, vanish.

The remaining sixty members of Batch J all stand with a collage of horror, anger, and confusion at how quickly their numbers were reduced. The Professors' abilities were one thing, but Oberon and, presumably, the others present realize now that their Proctors are by no means lackeys assigned to push papers and run numbers.

Proctor TWO claps and squeals.

Wow~ Look at you, that! Congratulations, Batch J has officially passed the survey orientation. From this moment forward, you are official members of the C.O.A.T. program. That stands for Chromerus Occult Arcane Testing. We, as in the Proctors, will be experimenting on you all with a wide variety of occult, Outer, and other extraplanar stimuli to see your resistances and reactions to them.

She walks up and leans forward, head tilted to the side once more.

I am very excited to see who makes it to the end. The very future of Chromerus and its allies depends on your results.

She stands to her full height, spins on her heels, and starts to stroll away, waving a hand for Oberon and the others to follow.

Come, come, there is much to do. This is only the first of fourteen days. We’re on a very tight schedule.

Oberon takes a step forward, his pulse quickening, excitement and anxiety growing. Oberon and his peers follow Proctor TWO toward the next survey site.

Elio…brother…whether you can hear this or not…I expect to see you at the end of all this.

The group, led by TWO, exits through a set of double doors and into a long hallway. On either side, lining the hall are doors to rooms obscured by tinted glass and arcane observation-blocking enchantments.

Oberon watches both TWO and his fellow participants, studying their movements, any abilities they showcase, and patterns in how they interact with the world and other people. The group walks in silence until another participant, a young man, speaks up, breaking the tension.

The man is about the same height as Oberon, but built a tad bit more powerfully. His pallid skin is covered in black markings written in Chromerian. From what Oberon observes, they’re arcane tattoos or perhaps an inscribed oath of some kind. He’s heard of people taking pacts upon their bodies in exchange for power, but had not come across anyone who had actually done it before. The young man’s black hair is shaved short, and his eyes are a bright fiery red.

What happened to the people who dropped out or failed?

TWO keeps walking, not answering immediately.

The participant tries again.

Excuse me? Ms.TWO? Proctor? What happens to the people who fail?

Still no response from TWO; she continues walking, her pace steady, head forward.

The participant picks up the pace, getting within a few feet of TWO’s back.

Hey! Excus-

TWO spins around and catches the young man by the nose, fingers pinched around it. The man falls to one knee, grabbing at her wrist and hand to keep it from moving and causing him more pain. TWO giggles and pulls the man in close.

You don’t need to know about them. They’re failures; what’s the use in thinking about people who failed to do what you did? You’re real silly, y’know that?

She releases his nose and pushes him back; he stumbles, but two other participants catch him. TWO turns to continue walking, but for a moment stops to half-face the group.

Maybe the part where I said this survey will decide the fate of our people and many others was forgotten. So let me make it a bit simpler for all of you.

She turns her back to the group, her shoulders slack, her voice and pitch drop. Cold indifference coats every word as she speaks.

This program is focused on testing unknown phenomena on our participants to find out what our enemies can do and how we can respond. Results will be gained from you regardless of whether you are in the survey or used for supplementary testing.

For a moment, Oberon senses in this woman a sort of history in the arcane energy she allows to seep from her body. This woman has killed, and in this moment would be willing to kill again. As a matter of fact, it’s taking every ounce of self-control and training Oberon has not to summon his weapon or flee. A handful of the others around him seem to be reacting the same way, but those less astute simply shrink before TWO or have hands on their respective combat instruments.

Whether TWO notices the mixed reactions across her batch or not is unclear, as much of her body language is only shown to Oberon through how she holds herself, the mask doing its job at obscuring her true mood and expressions.

She turns to look at the group with one eye.

Get the picture now?

The participant who had been questioning her slowly nods once.

TWO turns back around, and immediately her body language reverts to what it was just moments before.

Great! We’re almost at the next survey location. So, if you have any other pressing questions, better ask them soon!

TWO flicks a hand toward a door, and it opens. She stops at the precipice and gestures for everyone to enter.

Now, if you’ll all just head into this room, we’ll begin the next survey!”

Slowly but surely, the group moves toward the room. It is at this moment that Oberon knows he needs to take charge and stand out. He knows Elio will be doing the same. If the rest of Batch J is going to get through this, they’ll need to work together. And as much as Oberon hates to think it, with how the first two events have gone, he might need a bit of support from the others present to ensure he gets to the end. Elio wouldn’t be able to rely on him again if he didn’t make it.

Oberon strides forward with confidence. The others in the batch do not immediately follow in step, but if Oberon can start placing seeds in them now of him being reliable, confident, and competent, they may begin to rely on him and eventually work with him to overcome the trials ahead.

TWO gives a slight tilt to her head at seeing Oberon enter the unknown with such certainty and bravado.

Entering the room, it is little more than a dark, empty cube room with small slits in the walls, floor, and ceiling.

What’s it going to be this time? A sensory test? A reflex test? Sparring? Are those slits for blood? Smoke? Both?

As the last of Batch J enters the room, the doors seal behind them.

TWO’s voice speaks with a silky smoothness in his mind, and likely in the minds of all others.

Okay, just relax…and remember, it’s not real.

Oberon’s eyes grow heavy. He blinks slowly; it’s difficult to make the lids of his eyes open again. He struggles regardless; relaxing is the last thing on his mind right now. He turns to observe the others present; his head is heavy like a rock. Rotating causes him to stumble and fall to one knee. The same can be said for those that fill the room. His vision blurs; he sees distortion in the air; a vapor hanging in the air. He tries to conjure forth his magic, but loses his balance and falls face first onto the hard linoleum floor. His head impacts, and darkness overtakes him.

Oberon shoots up, head throbbing, vision returning. His perception of the world around him returns slowly; his heart bangs like a drum in his chest. He’s in a bed, not his bed; In a house that’s not his house; The smell of cooking meats and steamed vegetables wafts through the room. Around him are simple wooden walls in a standard-looking cottage. A nightstand is beside him with a small handmade doll of a warrior adorned in many flowing ribbons and scarves; it holds two blades and has a face obscured in a shawl. Oberon goes to reach for it, but stops as the door to the room opens.

My little star tamer, did you have a bad dream?

Oberon turns toward the voice; he sees a tall, powerful feminine figure in a long gown and shawl. Her face, hands, and all other parts of exposed skin are obscured with black scratches like those of a children's book. In the place of eyes and a mouth are crudely drawn imitations of them in violet ink.

Oberon…Oberon thinks…Oberon…Who is Oberon?

A man of equal size but perhaps larger in muscle mass and wider of frame walks up behind the woman. His face is the same as hers.

You’re lucky that your mother was kind enough to let you sleep through the hunt [][][][][].

The woman elbows the man in his ribs.

He’s a growing boy. When he needs his rest, he is to rest.

The man rubs his side and chuckles. The boy who will be Oberon begins to cry. The man looks concerned; the woman walks to the bed, sits down beside the boy, and rubs his back.

It must have been some dream. Do you want to tell mama about it? Perhaps over your favorite stew?

Mama pinches the boy's cheek. The boy sniffles, rubs his eyes, and looks up into what should be her face. But he can’t recognize it. He starts to cry again.

The man finally walks over and sits beside the woman, placing a strong hand on the boy's back.

Ah, little one. Dreams can show us many things, great and terrible. They may hurt you now, but always remember, my son, it isn’t real.

Oberon’s eyes snap open. He inhales loudly and sits up from the floor. His head thrumming loudly, his ears ringing, it takes a moment for his vision to adjust, but as he looks around, he’s still in that chamber. How long had he blacked out for? What was that vapor?

Oberon looks around and sees some other participants recovering from similar states of confusion and unconsciousness, but some do not. Some simply remain asleep or in a state of delirium.

Oberon finally gets back to his feet, just as the voice of TWO enters his mind.

Wow wow wow! Wonderful job, you lot! Color me impressed! You just completed the second test of the day; the door will open soon. When it does, feel free to exit…

Her voice drops to that sinister low from earlier.

Or you can stay with the ones in here. Unable to cope with your reality. Living in a dream, living in a life that isn’t yours, living in memories of better times. The choice is yours, but personally…

Her voice becomes bubbly and light once more

I think you all can do a lot more if you keep giving it your all to fight through this!

The door to the room opens. TWO stands at the precipice, hands behind her back.

So won’t you follow me to the next site?

She spins and walks away. Oberon doesn’t hesitate; he’s not sure what he saw here, but now is not the time to delve into the past. He must move forward. For his sake, the sake of those who remain in Batch J, and for the sake of his brother. He takes the lead and is the first to exit the chamber.

As he walks, one of the other participants, the man who had been questioning TWO earlier, jogs up to pace beside Oberon.

Hey!

Oberon turns to acknowledge the man, but does not immediately respond.

Look…I’m gonna be honest. This survey or whatever isn’t right; we’re already down to twenty-one people. We need to stick together…

Oberon stops walking and faces the man.

You’re absolutely right. However, at the same time, we can’t hesitate or delay. If we give our brains time to process, we’ll slow down or worse…shut down. Being together will only work if we’re together on everything.

The man snaps back.

Then can you cut it out with the overconfident lone wolf crap. No offense, but you were laid out in that room just like the rest of us.

Oberon responds after taking a moment to observe the man fully.

If we’re all afraid to step into the unknown, no one will act. If being a lone wolf means clearing some doubt from the minds of those around me, then I will take on that role again and again.

The man rolls his eyes but gives a smile.

A lot of fancy words just to say you want us all to get through this.

Oberon smirks and starts to walk away, giving the man a pat on the shoulder as he does.

Read into my words in whatever way you’d like.

The man follows.

Never did get your name, Mr.Lone Wolf.

Without breaking stride, Oberon responds.

Oberon. Oberon Aurum.

The man catches up once more and walks beside him.

Shayan. Shayan Newveil. Friends and family call me Shay.

Oberon turns to look at him.

Then I will call you Shayan.

Shayan grins and slaps Oberon hard enough on the back to cause him to lurch forward.

For now, Obi, for now.

Oberon snaps his head to Shayan with a look of confusion and slight annoyance.

Obi?

Shayan starts to walk ahead of Oberon; he spins around and walks backward to face him as they continue down the corridor.

Short for Oberon…kinda.

Oberon sighs and looks over his shoulder at the remaining members of Batch J, before turning back to Shayan.

I have never been called by a shorthand version of my name before. Not even by friends or family.

Shayan slows to allow Oberon to catch up, once more walking beside him.

Didn’t peg you as the friend-making type…lucky you have me now, huh, Obi?

Oberon’s eye twitches for a moment; he picks up his pace once more, breezing by Shayan before turning over his shoulder to speak.

If you or any others want to earn the right to call me friend or…Obi, you’ll need to keep up. Can you manage that, Shayan?

Shayan smiles a big toothy smile.

I’ll let them know. That makes us a team now! No take-backs!

Oberon continues ahead without responding, but in his mind, a thought begins to form.

We just might make it through this if Shayan and I can rally those who remain.

Oberon looks ahead at TWO’s back.

Wherever you take us next. We’ll be ready.