CHPT 401: Red Ocean, Heavenly Sky (Vol. 3 Prologue)

Falling. It felt endless. The fall-- the pull.... the black. It never ended. The deafening winds never ceased. A steady chaotic flutter, hinting at the speeds achieved in the endless falls. Unknowing of what was up or down. What was sky or hard deep earthen core.

The fall. Infinite. Until it wasn't, and the breathtaking submersion of water was a newly alarming sensation. Forever submerging-- never drowning despite never breathing. No longer falling at blinding speeds. No longer in deafening winds-- succumbing to motion. Silence was born. All that was left was the swish and bubbling of the watery world around.

Water.....

So warm-- and coppery.

Full of bits and pieces....

A finger.....

A head full of tangled wet hair, flowing free of a body in the warm watery substance.

The surface was an attractive force suddenly. And it was upon breaching the surface that the Full Moon above shined it's light on the dark world below. The water..... so red and littered with bodies. So horrifying but nothing in comparison to the bodies hung up on sharpened spikes of wood. They lined the crack in the earth like twisted decorations. Their blood a steady pitter patter that dripped into the blood ocean. All dead-- all in the eternal slumber except for the man who stood beside them, looking into the cracked earth.

His eyes so inhuman. So cold. Seas of black surrounding circlets of fiery red. Suddenly the blood waters burned. They burned like hell. They burned like the collective anguishing sting of all the fires burning in the world.

They burned to the soul.

A familiar sound echoed.

"NOOOOOOO---"

***

"OOOOOOOOO--"

The falling had stopped. The cracked earth pit no more than a memory. Even so it was dark-- but making out the surroundings of the area was less of a problem.

"Maris-- for the love of the gods, this is the third night in a row." The voice came from the floor at the far side of the room. In the dark she could make out little, but Warren's goofy fear-stricken voice was impossible to miss.

She'd had another bad dream. Fuck.

"It's the bed, Warren."

The shadow beneath the desk full of artwork beside the wide glass window at the end of the room shifted. Then it tried to get up and hit the bottom of the desk.

THUD!

"AH-- shit! Watch where you're going, guy." Warren said at the desk in his tired daze.

"Idiot." Maris whispered.

"I heard that, short stuff." Warren grunted, "Now.....erhm.... do we need to head to a Witches establishment tomorrow to find some dream ailments, or are you good? Witches give me the chills to be honest-- please say you're ok."

"I'm fine. Dreams cannot physically assault me. They're nothing. It's the bed. It's cursed..." Maris settled with the idea of a hexed queen-sized mattress. It felt right at the moment, causing her to quickly get out from under the covers.

As she waltzed through the darkness, stepping and hopping around the dozens of Maps and Public Case Reports concerning possible Demon sightings, she stopped at the desk Warren slept under.

"Wassup, Maris... you look dashing tonight." Warren mumbled-- mimicking the housemaids that scoured the Aslan Estate halls, as he snuggled his oversized pillow on the hardwood floor.

The waning moonlight that gleamed through the window splashed against her tan skin. It felt energizing. She wouldn't sleep for the rest of the night. Even so....

"Hey!-- WHat are you doing?! Maris!-- I thought we made progress as friends you fucking spazz!" Warren yelped as Maris grabbed his legs and pulled him out from under the desk before hauling him up over her shoulder.

"We did. I'll continue to be your friend as long as you watch my flank during training. Now switch spots with me."

"I thought the bed was cursed???!" Warren flailed over her shoulder.

"It is. Be brave." Maris replied flatly before heaving him off her shoulder and throwing him onto the bed.

"WHA--Oumph!" Warren said as he bounced on the mattress-- immediately followed by relaxing sounds as he sunk into the soft pillows and bed. "Ohhhhhh hell yea.....mhm. This is what men go to war for...."

"Right." Maris said as she walked across the room and settled under the desk where Warren usually slept. By the time she was fully settled in, Warren's snores had returned in full. He probably wouldn't even remember the encounter by morning. Then again, he never did.

"Goodnight, Warren." Maris said as she reached out for the cup of water-based paint Isaac often used for his art.

Warren mumbled a reply as her hand began to glow. Sheathed in a film of ocean blue energy. In the dark of the room, it cast glimmering azure shadows on the open corners and walls of the room. It was beautiful.

Just like the watery paint she manipulated out of the cup, separating it's many colors Isaac once mixed in for one desired result.

Cobalt blue.... Forest green..... Navy blue..... a bright and natural verdant green. They glowed under her control, shifting and slithering through the air like snakes in response to the movement of her hands. Sometimes executing sharp dips and dives like an Octolepid in the Tendread Sea. Other times twisting and intertwining until they were melded back into their hybridized color.

She stopped suddenly, turning her body so the Moon's rays cast shadows of the twisting paints onto the far wall like her very own planetary projector. Then the shapes and actions took on tighter form. A girl running through a field of grass..... a muscle-bound woman slaying a horde of monsters with two axes.... a man running with the wolves.

She stayed that way for a while-- with nothing but her imagination and Element. Entertaining herself in the dark of night until morning came.

***

Saturday Morning, January 10th, 2241...

And eventually it did come. Morning-- that is. It always came. An endless cycle fighting for dominance over night. Always one loss and one win. Cyclic. That's how life had felt since.....

Since things happened over a month ago. Maris couldn't complain. She was growing stronger. She had a theory as to why. It wasn't as simple as training hard every day. But that was neither here nor there.

She manipulated the watercolors back into the cup, stood up and placed it back on the desk. While she stood there, the morning sun splashed its golden brightness on Isaac's table of artwork. He really was skilled. She used to get irritated with him over how much time he spent painting and drawing when he could've been working his swordsmanship with her..... but she learned it made him happy. Being happy was important to some people.

Isaac's artwork had stopped being happy. He no longer drew wild and beautifully vibrant Primals in their respective natural biomes. Now all he drew was Wolves.... Wolfmen-- snarling and violent. And trees. Great tree's bigger in spirit than what the parameters of the paper could hold. Broken and in flames from the Demon twisted and ground to mush within. A grizzly image.... a memory of that day.

She suddenly felt jumpy.

"Wake up." She said without looking anywhere. Nobody moved.

She turned and approached Isaac. He slept near the door holding his sheathed cutlass in a death grip. She rarely stared at anyone other than Monsters in search of weak points. Maybe it was for that reason that she suddenly noticed how different Isaac looked.

Older. More matured. Stressed. His skin maintained it's ebony radiance. Sun kissed and smooth like the Royalty of The Sunlands. He'd lost a lot of bodyfat. They all did in response to upping their training regimen. They rarely did anything else-- unless it was hitting SkyHaven to hang with Conroy, Chase, Stacy and the others. But that was rare.

In response, Isaac looked older-- harder. When combined with his well-done braided cornrows and natural sense of style, he looked cool. Sleek. Effective.

She suddenly looked down at her own hair. It hung down to her chest like drapery. Not effective. She paused her mission to wake the boys and grabbed her sword to cut her hair.

When the job was done, she was back hovering over Isaac. He suddenly squinted in his sleep as if her presence was enough to wake him.

"Not.... even five more minutes, huh?"

"Hell no. Tell that to the Goblins."

"You and your Goblins." Isaac said groggily before he sat up and reached up toward her, "Help a brother up?"

Maris grabbed his hand and leaned back, heaving up his bulked physique until he stood on two feet, stretching and yawning loudly.

Afterward, Maris silently walked off to a nearby bathroom to change and wash. By the time she returned to the room, Warren and Isaac were wrestling on the bed like idiots.

"No-- NO! Feel the god dammed bed you steroid fed meat-brain!-- ACK! THAT'S MY NUTS! NO! YOU FORGOT HOW GOOD IT FEELS!!!-- Or else you wouldn't be letting her crazy ass wake us up at the crack of dawn! Do we sleep with a ROOSTER?! THe Fuck is this!-- OUCH!" Warren forced out his words as he wrestled with Isaac.... or at least tried to.

"I KNOW-- how good my bed feels, you dork! Now get your skinny ass up before I tie your legs into a knot!"

"What are you doing? We have things to do." Maris said.

"Yea-- sleep! What are we training for? To join The Nine? Are they in development to become The Thirteen?" Warren whined as he ceased wrestling with Isaac.

"Why are you an idiot?" Maris asked.

"It would be The Twelve, Warren." Isaac said as he sat on the bed beside Warren twisted up in his quilt and pillows.

"What?" Warren asked while itching his eyes.

"Nine plus three is twelve-- what are you a gradeschooler?" Isaac replied.

"No-- IM TIRED!"

SHING!

Everyone in the room froze momentarily as Maris drew her blade. It shined under the morning sun. The blade thin and deadly sharp-- yet cracked and damaged from constantly rending through bone of varying species and densities. It had a smell to it. Coppery, and pungent. Maris liked it.

She moved fast, sinking her blade into the mess of papers on the floor to retrieve one of the pages. Once it was in her hand, she sheathed her blade and approached Warren, slamming the paper on his chest.

It wasn't one of the Public Reports-- or Maps with dozens of scribbles and writings. It was a newspaper. Old. Important, nonetheless. Even if the higher ups-- people like Ronin, tried to hide it all from the public. They knew. She just had to remind him.

"Daughter of Rory Legrande and unspecified Student left missing after vicious Unrecognized Monster attack at Noble Residence!!! Twin Sons of Ronin still missing! Word of boy wielding purple flames reported in The Levant!"

"This is why we train, Warren. Get up and get your bow. Me and Isaac need cover fire."

All previous whining and young playfulness faded. He suddenly looked fully awake as he sighed. Maris suddenly noticed he too looked older. More matured as he untwisted himself from the bed.

"Alright. Isaac where's your pick? I'm not going anywhere until I comb my hair out."

Maris smiled to herself as she turned and headed for the door.

Warren's voice echoed down the hall in her wake.

"Speaking of hair..... MARIS WHAT THE FUCK!?!"