I
The night is darker than my pitch-black future, stars hidden by the thick, black clouds peeking through the surrounding trees. There’s a chill in the air as the growing wind sweeps my paper-thin hair over my bony shoulder, the broken flashlight shaking in my hand as I stumble along. Trembling, I continue forward.
“I don’t want to do this!” I’d gasped, pleading, praying the people in my city would understand. I’m sick, always have been, so I was the easiest choice. I was the weakest link.
“What would you rather, Aspen?” My uncle shouted, my parents being held back by other strong town members as they struggled to get to me, to save me. They had protected me from being chosen for so long. “If you force someone else to go in your stead, could you live with the guilt?”
“Yes!” I sobbed airily, my knobby knees weak and trembling as he gripped my arm. “Yes! I could, I could!”
“You aren’t a child any longer,” he snapped, his voice dipping low as he wrenches me closer. “Don’t be so naïve.”
Branches snap overhead, a whimper clogging my throat.
I am the sacrifice.
There’s a roar in the distance that shakes the leaves above, my knees liquefying as I hit the ground. Bleary-eyed, I silently plead to the sky to spare me. If God is listening, I pray he hears my begging.
There’s a sudden thumping against a tree like a fist on a drum.
I turn to my left to see a shadowy figure standing five feet from me, eyes glowing red as they stare me down. It creates a rhythm with its hand, the wind turning to ice in my throat as I lose all abilities to breathe. Slowly, I attempt to shuffle backward, but I am paralyzed, blubbering quietly like a weak, helpless child. After about five hits on the tree, more shadows with multi-colored glowing eyes appear in the darkness, my flashlight beam flickering. No one ever said there was more than one monster.
But then again, no one has ever made it back alive to prove the legend wrong.
That isn’t the role of the sacrifice.
The original humanoid shadow steps forward into the beam of light and through the haze. I can almost make out a face, a body, wrinkles of clothing.
A gust of wind rustles the leaves along the ground and the shadow-man’s head snaps up, staring out at the clearing just a few feet from where I sit. Something like a low growl comes from his depths and he returns his gaze to me as the wind suddenly becomes violent.
He takes a step toward me and I shake my head, staring up at him through my blurred vision.
“Please... please let me go,” I whisper. “Please let me go. I’m sick, so I won’t be any good to you. I—I might just make you sick.”
He reaches down with a blackened hand and grips my arm, the smoky shroud that had been surrounding him exploding in a burst of energy, revealing his face—a creature so terrifyingly breathtaking, I lose all sense of the moment.
Long dark hair sweeps over his narrow shoulders, shaved on his left side. His body is covered in ornately designed black clothing, the glossy patterns glinting in the flashlight’s light. Black raven wings rise high over his head, blocking out my view of the surrounding woods. His features are sharp, fur and feathers ruffling around the back and sides of his neck and poking out of the hem of his long jacket sleeves, bony claws extending from his fingertips like a cat’s. Two scythe-like blades extend from the backs of his wrists, each about a foot long of sharp ivory bone, red light pulsating along the sharp edges. The color of his irises are hidden by the bright red light radiating from them, the same glow coming from the scythes and a strange symbol on the shaved part of his scalp. The symbol is shaped like a triangle, two lines cutting through one of the smaller sides, the shorter ending in a ball and the longer ending in a tee; a dot just above the smaller perpendicular line.
“How about no?” he breathes, baring wolf-like teeth.
Veins of lightning blossom overhead, illuminating the woods with eerie images as shadows suddenly reveal other figures within their misty shrouds, each one more frighteningly beautiful than the next, raven wings filling the empty spaces. The cold fingers of fright knead my insides as despair roots deeper within me.
There’s an explosion of air from the valley to my left and I’m lifted off the ground. The creature braces himself and slams his left scythe into the closest tree, anchoring us as a funnel touches down on the grass. He turns back to the other creatures in the trees, who shout and laugh with giddy joy as the tornado swings closer.
“We must wait for its reveal!” He shouts at them. They respond with cheers as he turns back to me, his claws digging into my wrist and making me cry out. “And you.”
He meets my eyes, still glowing bright red as he pulls me to him with the flick of his wrist. I fly through the air, against the wind, and, with perfect precision and wolf-like teeth, he clamps his jaws down on my shoulder. I scream as something warm slips through me, paralyzing me.
This is where I die.
The sounds of roots ripping from the ground are overrun by the terrifyingly deaf roar of the tornado as it comes closer. A scream rips through my throat just as I’m yanked to one side, his teeth still embedded in my muscle tissue, the warm sensation turning to fire as my body stops responding to what my brain tells it to do.
The wind ceases and I drop to the ground, a chunk of my skin coming out in the beast’s jaws, but I don’t feel it. I’m numb. Can’t move.
The crow-man’s hand is still around my wrist, bony claws stained with my crimson blood. My lungs are heavy, aching like they’re filled with liquid as my head lolls to the side to watch the eye of the tornado pass by.
Lightning strikes the ground once, twice, a third time, something forming from the sparks that fly and the veins that singe the ground. Through the great flash of light, a figure emerges, a roar overpowering the sound of the wind for only a moment.
It’s a tall bipedal beast with tusks jutting out from its bottom lip and spiraling horns atop its head. With two large, hairy, three-fingered hands, it pounds its reddish black chest like an ape, two opal eyes staring into the distance. Its backwards legs end in talons like a hawk, beaded strings wrapping themselves around them like anklets. More beads drape off the beast, and several studs shimmer along its eyebrows, making the beast seem more... human. What kind of animal would accessorize?
I watch the beast slam the butt of its spear against the ground as it cries out, seeming to have noticed the creatures in the trees. In one swift moment, the trees empty as the creatures spill from them, toward the ogre-like beast several feet away. As it moves to the side to defend itself, I can see a second, smaller funnel reaching down from the eye, warping the ashen sky.
My body jostles violently as the man hoists me into his arms, spreading his black-feathered wings and running forward.
“Into the mouth!” He yells at the other creatures, who explode with shouts in response.
The chaos is maddening; the situation is that of a twisted, nightmarish fairytale.
He takes to the air, the wind beginning to pick up again as we fly higher, my heart hammering loudly in my chest. What is the purpose of this? Why do these creatures exist? How did we not know about them? Sure, there were legends and stories about the monster in the woods, but even so... how could this be real?
The large horned beast falls, bloody and missing a limb as several creatures cover him, ripping into his flesh with their wolf-like teeth. The man holding me tilts his wings and we shoot downward toward the part of the sky that is warping, nearly touching the ground now. He flares his oil-black wings and we land, his feet pounding the grass as he rushes toward the cloudy warp. It’s as if someone had taken a funnel and painted a stretched image of the sky onto its glossy surface.
The end of the funnel is maybe four feet from the grass. He’ll never make it.
And I don’t know which option I dread more.
Tucking his wings onto his back, he leans backward and slides under the waning space, the edge barely brushing his hair.
Immediately, he stands upright, slinging my limp body over his shoulder. As the cylindrical wall of sky around us continues to reach toward the ground, I shift my eyes, unable to move anything else. A large mass comes wriggling from above, a grunt that was supposed to be a scream barely making it from behind my slack jaw. A sickening, acrid stink fills the tube as the mass descends, bumps and ridges covering the surface.
The creature-man says nothing. Instead, he crouches low, steadying himself. As the long mass increases its speed, aiming for us, he leaps, flapping his wings with all his might. The air in here is dead; he’s struggling to get lift. I get a better glimpse at the worm-like structure and I can’t help but think it’s a tongue. The crow guy did say to head to the mouth, so taking that and applying it here would mean the tunnel of sky was the mouth, and logically, that would make this mass... the tongue.
Is the sky trying to eat us?
My scream comes out garbled and the creature ignores it. He brings us higher, higher, until there’s a plateau before us. It looks exactly like the inside of what a mouth should be, only it’s colored with purple hues instead of red tones. The tongue moves and shifts as it searches the ground way below for what it had captured. A set of jaws further back in the “throat” catches your eye, reminding you of an eel’s secondary jaw, just as the crow man banks left, swooping down low and into a hole in the side of the mouth. The hole, which is actually more of an arch, is rather wide, blood dripping down the sides as the mouth’s movement rubs the scabs along the metal frame keeping it open. Several sounds and loud music pulsate from inside, giving away the location of life beyond the tongue.
The creature-man continues to carry me through the archway, slung over his shoulder on my side, which would be very uncomfortable and most likely painful if I could feel anything. Luckily, everything is numb and void of abilities to register pain.
The crow-man bounces me once and I flip onto my stomach, letting out a guttural moan that was supposed to be a cough.
Around me are several creatures like the one holding me—who I wish I had a name for—and there are several others who are strikingly different. They stand seven feet tall with wings like a wyvern, only with hands on the second joint instead of a thumb-like claw. Their heads are bent backwards, forcing them to lean forward to see, the tail jutting from their spines keeping them balanced as they walk on their talons. These creatures herd and sell various animals from earth, shouting bargains over the noise in broken English.
This whole area is like a marketplace with creatures from fantasy, from nightmares, from dreams. Huge white and gray birds made of clouds flap their wings above, drops of water falling from them as they pass overhead. Some of these birds flash with lightning, all contained within their elephantine bodies.
Bugs the size of dragonflies zip about, looking a lot like flies, only their eyes aren’t compound—it’s much, much more disturbing than that. They have eight eyes like a spider, each one like a small, gooey chocolate chip.
I would shudder if I could.
The crow-man adjusts me again and I grunt, my stringy hair falling in my face. Grateful I’m not dead yet, I struggle to focus on the world around me. It’s moist, the air heavy and thick and acrid. There’s a constant string of words I both do and don’t understand coming from everywhere at once. Maybe this is a market. A market inside the sky. But if the sky has a mouth... would that mean it has a body, too? Is it some sort of terrifying creature as well?
“Kyo!” One of the giant wyvern-type creatures grunts as we pass, lifting his wristless hand for a high-five from the creature carrying me.
I can’t see the crow’s face, but I do hear him mutter, “Karl,” as the beast passes and then turns to walk with us.
“Been long time,” the creature named Karl says with a heavy accent. “Where been you?”
“Below,” Kyo responds, sounding as if he doesn’t want to talk.
“The Celestials?” Karl asks, walking funny on his elephant-like legs as he brushes by a very tall and lanky woman made entirely of water. “You go to?”
Kyo nods and says nothing else. Then Karl speaks up again, the little chatterbox.
“Well, if Kyo needs anything, call Karl. Karl come help.”
Kyo nods. “I appreciate it.”
Karl roughly ruffles Kyo’s hair and then walks away, Kyo’s body stiffening at the wyvern’s touch. Grumbling intelligibly as he fixes his half-shaved head, he continues to march forward, toward a door embedded into a pulsing muscle. Kyo presses a button to the left of the door in the middle of the keypad and there’s a whirring sound. The keypad lights up with a flurry of colors and then settles on a light blue, hurting my eyes. The door opens by itself and Kyo walks through, the air going from moist and hot to warm and slightly humid. A difference, but not that drastic of one.
Kyo bounces me off of his shoulder and catches me with one strong arm, my body frailer than it’s ever been as he holds me close, indifferent about, well everything, it seems. Slowly, I can sense the effects of the paralyzing agent he’d pumped into my system wearing off.
My feet barely touch the ground before he picks me back up again, cradling me like a child. Not once does he meet my eyes as he does this, even as unwilling grunts escape my body.
Grass made of gold, silver, and green blows in the light breeze, the sky a rich bright blue. A few scattered clouds shift across the sky only for me to realize that those are some of the cloud birds flying overhead. Marble platforms are scattered across the land, humanoid figures standing atop each one in long, pastel robes. They all seem to be doing something different; some dance, some sing, and others pluck fruit from trees, talking to the wildlife that gather around them.
Kyo stops a good distance from the doors and two men suddenly appear. They’re dressed in dark colors, much like Kyo as their crow wings fold along their backs. The one on the left has a green symbol just beneath his right collarbone, while the one on the right has an orange one in the groove between his nose and his top lip. They both hold staffs in one hand, eyes glowing with the colors of their symbols.
“State your business with the Celestials,” they both say.
“I have a human to give,” Kyo responds, lifting me up an inch to draw attention to me. Fear creeps into my system once more as the curiosity fades.
The two crow-men stare at Kyo, waiting for him to say something more, but he doesn’t. With an awkward nod, the two men turn to the rest of the field and slam their staffs on the ground in unison.
“Celestials, your presence is requested for the giving of a human.”
The creatures on the marble platforms turn in the direction of the crow-men, and I watch as they nod to each other. As they do, their platforms move, rising to hover an inch over the grass and moving ever so gently in our direction.
They stop a few feet from us, forming a straight line. There are seven of them, a pastel orange robe in the center. He removes his hood to reveal a soft-featured face, his snow-white hair like a long strip down the center of his head. It’s cut like a mohawk, but braided back and onto his left shoulder. His eyes are a deep brown, a ring of glowing blue light outlining his pupil. The light orange compliments his dark skin, and his expression is inviting.
“Kyo,” the man says, his voice soft and kind. “What brings my heavily indebted Beholdened here?”
“A human,” Kyo replies, his words sharp.
“Oh?” The man asks, taken aback. “So soon? I thought you enjoyed being under my control.”
Kyo’s symbol glows a bit brighter for a moment before dimming once again. “I have two left after this one. The sooner I am released, the better.”
The man pouts slightly. “Oh, but you keep the best company, Kyo. You won’t miss this life once you’re free?”
“Take the human,” Kyo demands, bouncing me to readjust his grip. “She’s close to regaining movement in her limbs. There’s around five minutes left.”
The man frowns. “Very well. The sky finds pleasure in your sacrifice.”
My limbs feel cold through the numbness. Death... waits for me.
The man nods to the two crow-men standing on either side of us, one of them taking me from Kyo’s arms. As I’m moved from hand to hand, I see the glow in Kyo’s eyes disappear, a bit of fur pulling back from his neck to reveal more skin, as if he’s changing into being closer to human than beast.
“Another percent of your humanity has been restored,” the man continues as the new crow-man holding me walks deeper into the field, past the line of Celestials. “I hope not to see you too soon, Kyo, for I have plans for you.”
My eyes fall upon Kyo once more as the world fades around me, the light blue sky turning to a silky, black-velvet night with constellations I don’t recognize. There’s a chorus of agonized wailing as the atmosphere changes once more. It’s as if we’d stepped through an invisible wall.
Before me is the same silver, gold, and green grass, but the trees have changed, warped with twisted faces and a sickening smell. The air is hot and sticky, heavier than it had been when I was inside the mouth. As we get further from the Celestials, of whom I can still see around the crow carrying me, sunlight still sparkling down on their side, my hopelessness grows more intense. I want to fight, but I’m too weak.
I can, however, move my head and a few of my fingers.
“Wha-ya-jahh,” I slur, unable to move my mouth correctly. I try again, slowly. “Where... you... taking...?”
“Silence, human,” the crow snaps. “Your words are deadly here.”
I stare at him, puzzled, able to move all my fingers now. No idea how that could help me.
The agonized moaning and screaming gets closer and I can see scattered pits along the ground of what looks like a liquefied version of the starry sky above, sloshing and churning. Skulls and various bones rest around the pit’s edges as someone cries out once more. For a split second, I believe I see a hand reaching out of the starry liquid, only to see the charred flesh disappear beneath the surface once again, the sounds of sizzling making itself known.
A shudder washes through me as I regain full control of my hands. My arms still refuse to fight back.
“Let me go,” I breathe pleadingly as I struggle to kick my legs. They hardly move. “Please, you don’t have to do this.”
The man holding me glares, his orange glowing eyes too bright in the darkness. “What did I say? I told you to be silent.”
“Am I not allowed to beg for my life?” I ask airlessly.
“Not in a place where words are weapons, human,” he spits disdainfully.
“What do you mean?” I continue to speak, stalling. “What do you mean by that?”
The crow says no more as he stops at the first pit of star-covered liquid, the symbol above his top lip pulsing with light.
“The answer doesn’t matter to those who are dead.”
There’s a quick sensation of gravity-loss as he lets me go. Then, free fall.
The starry liquid surrounds me, fills me, the heat overwhelming.
I’ve been dropped into the pit. This is the end for me.
“I don’t want to do this!” I’d gasped, pleading, praying the people in my city would understand. I’m sick, always have been, so I was the easiest choice. I was the weakest link.
“What would you rather, Aspen?” My uncle shouted, my parents being held back by other strong town members as they struggled to get to me, to save me. They had protected me from being chosen for so long. “If you force someone else to go in your stead, could you live with the guilt?”
“Yes!” I sobbed airily, my knobby knees weak and trembling as he gripped my arm. “Yes! I could, I could!”
“You aren’t a child any longer,” he snapped, his voice dipping low as he wrenches me closer. “Don’t be so naïve.”
Branches snap overhead, a whimper clogging my throat.
I am the sacrifice.
There’s a roar in the distance that shakes the leaves above, my knees liquefying as I hit the ground. Bleary-eyed, I silently plead to the sky to spare me. If God is listening, I pray he hears my begging.
There’s a sudden thumping against a tree like a fist on a drum.
I turn to my left to see a shadowy figure standing five feet from me, eyes glowing red as they stare me down. It creates a rhythm with its hand, the wind turning to ice in my throat as I lose all abilities to breathe. Slowly, I attempt to shuffle backward, but I am paralyzed, blubbering quietly like a weak, helpless child. After about five hits on the tree, more shadows with multi-colored glowing eyes appear in the darkness, my flashlight beam flickering. No one ever said there was more than one monster.
But then again, no one has ever made it back alive to prove the legend wrong.
That isn’t the role of the sacrifice.
The original humanoid shadow steps forward into the beam of light and through the haze. I can almost make out a face, a body, wrinkles of clothing.
A gust of wind rustles the leaves along the ground and the shadow-man’s head snaps up, staring out at the clearing just a few feet from where I sit. Something like a low growl comes from his depths and he returns his gaze to me as the wind suddenly becomes violent.
He takes a step toward me and I shake my head, staring up at him through my blurred vision.
“Please... please let me go,” I whisper. “Please let me go. I’m sick, so I won’t be any good to you. I—I might just make you sick.”
He reaches down with a blackened hand and grips my arm, the smoky shroud that had been surrounding him exploding in a burst of energy, revealing his face—a creature so terrifyingly breathtaking, I lose all sense of the moment.
Long dark hair sweeps over his narrow shoulders, shaved on his left side. His body is covered in ornately designed black clothing, the glossy patterns glinting in the flashlight’s light. Black raven wings rise high over his head, blocking out my view of the surrounding woods. His features are sharp, fur and feathers ruffling around the back and sides of his neck and poking out of the hem of his long jacket sleeves, bony claws extending from his fingertips like a cat’s. Two scythe-like blades extend from the backs of his wrists, each about a foot long of sharp ivory bone, red light pulsating along the sharp edges. The color of his irises are hidden by the bright red light radiating from them, the same glow coming from the scythes and a strange symbol on the shaved part of his scalp. The symbol is shaped like a triangle, two lines cutting through one of the smaller sides, the shorter ending in a ball and the longer ending in a tee; a dot just above the smaller perpendicular line.
“How about no?” he breathes, baring wolf-like teeth.
Veins of lightning blossom overhead, illuminating the woods with eerie images as shadows suddenly reveal other figures within their misty shrouds, each one more frighteningly beautiful than the next, raven wings filling the empty spaces. The cold fingers of fright knead my insides as despair roots deeper within me.
There’s an explosion of air from the valley to my left and I’m lifted off the ground. The creature braces himself and slams his left scythe into the closest tree, anchoring us as a funnel touches down on the grass. He turns back to the other creatures in the trees, who shout and laugh with giddy joy as the tornado swings closer.
“We must wait for its reveal!” He shouts at them. They respond with cheers as he turns back to me, his claws digging into my wrist and making me cry out. “And you.”
He meets my eyes, still glowing bright red as he pulls me to him with the flick of his wrist. I fly through the air, against the wind, and, with perfect precision and wolf-like teeth, he clamps his jaws down on my shoulder. I scream as something warm slips through me, paralyzing me.
This is where I die.
The sounds of roots ripping from the ground are overrun by the terrifyingly deaf roar of the tornado as it comes closer. A scream rips through my throat just as I’m yanked to one side, his teeth still embedded in my muscle tissue, the warm sensation turning to fire as my body stops responding to what my brain tells it to do.
The wind ceases and I drop to the ground, a chunk of my skin coming out in the beast’s jaws, but I don’t feel it. I’m numb. Can’t move.
The crow-man’s hand is still around my wrist, bony claws stained with my crimson blood. My lungs are heavy, aching like they’re filled with liquid as my head lolls to the side to watch the eye of the tornado pass by.
Lightning strikes the ground once, twice, a third time, something forming from the sparks that fly and the veins that singe the ground. Through the great flash of light, a figure emerges, a roar overpowering the sound of the wind for only a moment.
It’s a tall bipedal beast with tusks jutting out from its bottom lip and spiraling horns atop its head. With two large, hairy, three-fingered hands, it pounds its reddish black chest like an ape, two opal eyes staring into the distance. Its backwards legs end in talons like a hawk, beaded strings wrapping themselves around them like anklets. More beads drape off the beast, and several studs shimmer along its eyebrows, making the beast seem more... human. What kind of animal would accessorize?
I watch the beast slam the butt of its spear against the ground as it cries out, seeming to have noticed the creatures in the trees. In one swift moment, the trees empty as the creatures spill from them, toward the ogre-like beast several feet away. As it moves to the side to defend itself, I can see a second, smaller funnel reaching down from the eye, warping the ashen sky.
My body jostles violently as the man hoists me into his arms, spreading his black-feathered wings and running forward.
“Into the mouth!” He yells at the other creatures, who explode with shouts in response.
The chaos is maddening; the situation is that of a twisted, nightmarish fairytale.
He takes to the air, the wind beginning to pick up again as we fly higher, my heart hammering loudly in my chest. What is the purpose of this? Why do these creatures exist? How did we not know about them? Sure, there were legends and stories about the monster in the woods, but even so... how could this be real?
The large horned beast falls, bloody and missing a limb as several creatures cover him, ripping into his flesh with their wolf-like teeth. The man holding me tilts his wings and we shoot downward toward the part of the sky that is warping, nearly touching the ground now. He flares his oil-black wings and we land, his feet pounding the grass as he rushes toward the cloudy warp. It’s as if someone had taken a funnel and painted a stretched image of the sky onto its glossy surface.
The end of the funnel is maybe four feet from the grass. He’ll never make it.
And I don’t know which option I dread more.
Tucking his wings onto his back, he leans backward and slides under the waning space, the edge barely brushing his hair.
Immediately, he stands upright, slinging my limp body over his shoulder. As the cylindrical wall of sky around us continues to reach toward the ground, I shift my eyes, unable to move anything else. A large mass comes wriggling from above, a grunt that was supposed to be a scream barely making it from behind my slack jaw. A sickening, acrid stink fills the tube as the mass descends, bumps and ridges covering the surface.
The creature-man says nothing. Instead, he crouches low, steadying himself. As the long mass increases its speed, aiming for us, he leaps, flapping his wings with all his might. The air in here is dead; he’s struggling to get lift. I get a better glimpse at the worm-like structure and I can’t help but think it’s a tongue. The crow guy did say to head to the mouth, so taking that and applying it here would mean the tunnel of sky was the mouth, and logically, that would make this mass... the tongue.
Is the sky trying to eat us?
My scream comes out garbled and the creature ignores it. He brings us higher, higher, until there’s a plateau before us. It looks exactly like the inside of what a mouth should be, only it’s colored with purple hues instead of red tones. The tongue moves and shifts as it searches the ground way below for what it had captured. A set of jaws further back in the “throat” catches your eye, reminding you of an eel’s secondary jaw, just as the crow man banks left, swooping down low and into a hole in the side of the mouth. The hole, which is actually more of an arch, is rather wide, blood dripping down the sides as the mouth’s movement rubs the scabs along the metal frame keeping it open. Several sounds and loud music pulsate from inside, giving away the location of life beyond the tongue.
The creature-man continues to carry me through the archway, slung over his shoulder on my side, which would be very uncomfortable and most likely painful if I could feel anything. Luckily, everything is numb and void of abilities to register pain.
The crow-man bounces me once and I flip onto my stomach, letting out a guttural moan that was supposed to be a cough.
Around me are several creatures like the one holding me—who I wish I had a name for—and there are several others who are strikingly different. They stand seven feet tall with wings like a wyvern, only with hands on the second joint instead of a thumb-like claw. Their heads are bent backwards, forcing them to lean forward to see, the tail jutting from their spines keeping them balanced as they walk on their talons. These creatures herd and sell various animals from earth, shouting bargains over the noise in broken English.
This whole area is like a marketplace with creatures from fantasy, from nightmares, from dreams. Huge white and gray birds made of clouds flap their wings above, drops of water falling from them as they pass overhead. Some of these birds flash with lightning, all contained within their elephantine bodies.
Bugs the size of dragonflies zip about, looking a lot like flies, only their eyes aren’t compound—it’s much, much more disturbing than that. They have eight eyes like a spider, each one like a small, gooey chocolate chip.
I would shudder if I could.
The crow-man adjusts me again and I grunt, my stringy hair falling in my face. Grateful I’m not dead yet, I struggle to focus on the world around me. It’s moist, the air heavy and thick and acrid. There’s a constant string of words I both do and don’t understand coming from everywhere at once. Maybe this is a market. A market inside the sky. But if the sky has a mouth... would that mean it has a body, too? Is it some sort of terrifying creature as well?
“Kyo!” One of the giant wyvern-type creatures grunts as we pass, lifting his wristless hand for a high-five from the creature carrying me.
I can’t see the crow’s face, but I do hear him mutter, “Karl,” as the beast passes and then turns to walk with us.
“Been long time,” the creature named Karl says with a heavy accent. “Where been you?”
“Below,” Kyo responds, sounding as if he doesn’t want to talk.
“The Celestials?” Karl asks, walking funny on his elephant-like legs as he brushes by a very tall and lanky woman made entirely of water. “You go to?”
Kyo nods and says nothing else. Then Karl speaks up again, the little chatterbox.
“Well, if Kyo needs anything, call Karl. Karl come help.”
Kyo nods. “I appreciate it.”
Karl roughly ruffles Kyo’s hair and then walks away, Kyo’s body stiffening at the wyvern’s touch. Grumbling intelligibly as he fixes his half-shaved head, he continues to march forward, toward a door embedded into a pulsing muscle. Kyo presses a button to the left of the door in the middle of the keypad and there’s a whirring sound. The keypad lights up with a flurry of colors and then settles on a light blue, hurting my eyes. The door opens by itself and Kyo walks through, the air going from moist and hot to warm and slightly humid. A difference, but not that drastic of one.
Kyo bounces me off of his shoulder and catches me with one strong arm, my body frailer than it’s ever been as he holds me close, indifferent about, well everything, it seems. Slowly, I can sense the effects of the paralyzing agent he’d pumped into my system wearing off.
My feet barely touch the ground before he picks me back up again, cradling me like a child. Not once does he meet my eyes as he does this, even as unwilling grunts escape my body.
Grass made of gold, silver, and green blows in the light breeze, the sky a rich bright blue. A few scattered clouds shift across the sky only for me to realize that those are some of the cloud birds flying overhead. Marble platforms are scattered across the land, humanoid figures standing atop each one in long, pastel robes. They all seem to be doing something different; some dance, some sing, and others pluck fruit from trees, talking to the wildlife that gather around them.
Kyo stops a good distance from the doors and two men suddenly appear. They’re dressed in dark colors, much like Kyo as their crow wings fold along their backs. The one on the left has a green symbol just beneath his right collarbone, while the one on the right has an orange one in the groove between his nose and his top lip. They both hold staffs in one hand, eyes glowing with the colors of their symbols.
“State your business with the Celestials,” they both say.
“I have a human to give,” Kyo responds, lifting me up an inch to draw attention to me. Fear creeps into my system once more as the curiosity fades.
The two crow-men stare at Kyo, waiting for him to say something more, but he doesn’t. With an awkward nod, the two men turn to the rest of the field and slam their staffs on the ground in unison.
“Celestials, your presence is requested for the giving of a human.”
The creatures on the marble platforms turn in the direction of the crow-men, and I watch as they nod to each other. As they do, their platforms move, rising to hover an inch over the grass and moving ever so gently in our direction.
They stop a few feet from us, forming a straight line. There are seven of them, a pastel orange robe in the center. He removes his hood to reveal a soft-featured face, his snow-white hair like a long strip down the center of his head. It’s cut like a mohawk, but braided back and onto his left shoulder. His eyes are a deep brown, a ring of glowing blue light outlining his pupil. The light orange compliments his dark skin, and his expression is inviting.
“Kyo,” the man says, his voice soft and kind. “What brings my heavily indebted Beholdened here?”
“A human,” Kyo replies, his words sharp.
“Oh?” The man asks, taken aback. “So soon? I thought you enjoyed being under my control.”
Kyo’s symbol glows a bit brighter for a moment before dimming once again. “I have two left after this one. The sooner I am released, the better.”
The man pouts slightly. “Oh, but you keep the best company, Kyo. You won’t miss this life once you’re free?”
“Take the human,” Kyo demands, bouncing me to readjust his grip. “She’s close to regaining movement in her limbs. There’s around five minutes left.”
The man frowns. “Very well. The sky finds pleasure in your sacrifice.”
My limbs feel cold through the numbness. Death... waits for me.
The man nods to the two crow-men standing on either side of us, one of them taking me from Kyo’s arms. As I’m moved from hand to hand, I see the glow in Kyo’s eyes disappear, a bit of fur pulling back from his neck to reveal more skin, as if he’s changing into being closer to human than beast.
“Another percent of your humanity has been restored,” the man continues as the new crow-man holding me walks deeper into the field, past the line of Celestials. “I hope not to see you too soon, Kyo, for I have plans for you.”
My eyes fall upon Kyo once more as the world fades around me, the light blue sky turning to a silky, black-velvet night with constellations I don’t recognize. There’s a chorus of agonized wailing as the atmosphere changes once more. It’s as if we’d stepped through an invisible wall.
Before me is the same silver, gold, and green grass, but the trees have changed, warped with twisted faces and a sickening smell. The air is hot and sticky, heavier than it had been when I was inside the mouth. As we get further from the Celestials, of whom I can still see around the crow carrying me, sunlight still sparkling down on their side, my hopelessness grows more intense. I want to fight, but I’m too weak.
I can, however, move my head and a few of my fingers.
“Wha-ya-jahh,” I slur, unable to move my mouth correctly. I try again, slowly. “Where... you... taking...?”
“Silence, human,” the crow snaps. “Your words are deadly here.”
I stare at him, puzzled, able to move all my fingers now. No idea how that could help me.
The agonized moaning and screaming gets closer and I can see scattered pits along the ground of what looks like a liquefied version of the starry sky above, sloshing and churning. Skulls and various bones rest around the pit’s edges as someone cries out once more. For a split second, I believe I see a hand reaching out of the starry liquid, only to see the charred flesh disappear beneath the surface once again, the sounds of sizzling making itself known.
A shudder washes through me as I regain full control of my hands. My arms still refuse to fight back.
“Let me go,” I breathe pleadingly as I struggle to kick my legs. They hardly move. “Please, you don’t have to do this.”
The man holding me glares, his orange glowing eyes too bright in the darkness. “What did I say? I told you to be silent.”
“Am I not allowed to beg for my life?” I ask airlessly.
“Not in a place where words are weapons, human,” he spits disdainfully.
“What do you mean?” I continue to speak, stalling. “What do you mean by that?”
The crow says no more as he stops at the first pit of star-covered liquid, the symbol above his top lip pulsing with light.
“The answer doesn’t matter to those who are dead.”
There’s a quick sensation of gravity-loss as he lets me go. Then, free fall.
The starry liquid surrounds me, fills me, the heat overwhelming.
I’ve been dropped into the pit. This is the end for me.
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