“My cousin Amarna should be in charge of the Air House.” Bryony continued as if reading Job’s thoughts. “Seneca was her uncle. Marna’s next in line. If she was the queen, she could finally fix what’s gone wrong.”
Job frowned. “Marna?” Amarna was a quiet little thing, but there’d always been an intense gleam in her eye. Job considered that for a moment. “Is it true that she’s organizing rebels inside the Air Kingdom?” He asked bluntly.
Job had been hearing whispers of a faction growing right under Parald’s nose; dissatisfied Air Phases who wanted to reclaim the stolen throne. Most people dismissed it as a rumor, but Job had spent his lunch hour making out with the Quintessence. From now on, he thought pretty much
anything
was possible.
Bryony shot him a wary glance.
Job arched a brow and waited.
She blew out a long breath. “Yes. That’s why I’m here.”
“I see.”
“I didn’t want to leave Amarna. She’s the only family I have left. And the Air Kingdom is my
home
.” Bryony crossed her arms over her chest. “Not even Parald can drive me away. My sisters and parents are
buried
there. But, Marna wanted…” She sent him another quick look. “When the time comes, will you help us? I know that it’s against the Council’s rules to interfere, but will you help us get Parald out?”
Job’s eyes narrowed.
For some reason, he thought of Tessie sitting up in Cross’ unused room.
Job had always followed Wiset’s law and allowed the individual House almost total autonomy. Their internal struggles and coups weren’t really Council business. Other Houses didn’t take sides.
Obviously, that policy needed modification.
Job should have forced the Shadow Kingdom to allow him access to Cross. Vice, that psychotic piece of shit, had kept him from the boy.
Elemental law
had kept Job from his nephew and Cross had suffered. The same way that the Air Phases suffered under Parald’s rule. Job should have stopped Parald from usurping the Air House crown. The whole universe would have been better for it.
Job’s adherence to tradition had allowed his nephew to be harmed and the world to end.
That’s why he’d insisted on amnesty. To make some kind of amends for his mistakes.
The Fall had changed everything.
Some Phases, like Chason, wanted to live in the past. But, Job was pulling the Elementals into the future whether they liked it or not. That meant some of the old ways needed to adapt.
“When, Amarna is ready, I’ll help her.” He agreed quietly. “When the rebels overthrow Parald, you’ll have the Council’s support.” Job would make sure of it. “Until then, stay here and do what you need to do.”
Bryony blinked as if she couldn’t believe that it had been that easy.
“Job?” Tessie appeared in the doorway and his heart stopped. She changed into a red halter top that matched the cherry colored lipstick on her mouth. Her hair cascaded in an ebony waterfall down her back. In her denim skirt and scarlet high heels, Tessie’s legs went on for about fifteen miles.
Job wanted her so badly that it was a wonder that the palace didn’t catch fire around him.
“Tess.” He cleared his throat and tried to regain some working brain cells. “This is Bryony, of the Air House.”
“Hi.” Tessie studied Bree with obvious suspicion. “Job’s really going out on a limb for you people, so you’d better appreciate him.”
Bryony seemed like she had no clue how to respond to that. “I do appreciate him.” She blurted out. “All the Air Phases do. Well, most of them, anyway.”
Tessie snorted, obviously not completely appeased. She glanced at Job. “It’s five o’clock.” She reported. “You’re on my time now, remember? We’re gonna watch
Aliens
.”
Bryony shot Job a surprised look, as if she was expecting some kind of punch line. “
Aliens?
The movie? Why?”
“Because I like
Aliens
best of the series.” Tessie gave her hair a toss. “The first one’s low on the gore, the third one’s boring and the fourth one’s stupid.” She rolled her eyes. “And don’t even get me started on the
AVP
ones. Jesus. Have some standards, ya know?”
Actually, Job had no idea what any of that meant, but it didn’t matter. They could watch two hours of static on the TV and he’d be happy, so long as Tessie was there. “I found popcorn for you.” He told her and was rewarded with a grin.
“Great. Come on, then.”
Bryony looked from Tessie to Job and back again, obviously picking up on their energy. “Job? Is she your… Match?” The word came out as a stunned whisper.
“No.” Job got to his feet and smiled at Tessie. “She’s my date.”
A sombre yet beautiful and peaceful gloom here pervaded all things ... the shade of the
trees fell heavily upon the water, and seemed to bury itself therein, impregnating the
depths of the element with darkness.
Edgar Allan Poe- “The Island of the Fay”
Chason, of the Magnet House had the worst temper in the universe. It was a commonly known and often lamented fact of the Elemental world. His wrath had been terrible to witness even before the Fall. But, since the death of his Match, Chason had lost all reason. His furious emotions and incredible powers exploded without control into immeasurable, destructive rages. Every day, he seemed to grow less stable, so that he was now dangerous to everybody around him. Even his most loyal followers knew it.
When word reached them about amnesty, everyone in the Magnet Kingdom just ducked and covered.
There was a missing piece of Chason since Mara’s death; an empty void where his heart should have been. The good man, who he’d once striven to be, died with his Match, leaving nothing but a bitter shell. More than that, there was a growing darkness beneath Chason. A yawning abyss that looked back at him when he stared into it for too long.
Insanity.
Its spectral face peered through the cracks in his mind, luring him downward. He sensed it lurking there, growing more insistent and difficult to ignore.
He fought against it, but every day it got harder.
Chason tried very, very hard never to feel anything but anger and vengeance. All other emotions hurt far too much to endure. And he tried to keep his anger and vengeance from overcoming his logic, because, if he lost control, Chason worried that he’d accidently end the world before he was ready. Before he’d made Parald pay for unleashing the Fall and killing Mara. He
had
to hang onto his sanity long enough to complete his mission. But, he was running out of time.
Chason walked a very narrow tightrope in his fragmented psyche.
As he read the email that Job sent out to all Elementals, even his most trusted soldiers feared that Chason would lose his delicate mental equilibrium.
“Commander.” Lansing, of the Dust House, Chason’s second-in-command, hugged the laptop against his chest as if he feared for its life. “You know how difficult it is to get a computer working in the Magnet Kingdom, at all. Try not to erase it with your powers.”
It wouldn’t matter if the computer exploded or not. The words of the mass email were burned into Chason’s brain forever.
The Council of All Houses offers general amnesty and sanctuary for all Air Phases who wish to leave the Air House and denounce Parald.
Amnesty for the fucking Air Phases.
“Job’s going to piss off the entire world with this stunt.” Europa, one of the female members of the Reprisal, muttered. “Blessed is the peacemaker.”
Chason didn’t even hear her. He gripped his temples in an effort to stop the roaring in his head.
Amnesty!
Mercy for the people who murdered his Match.
The Magnet Fortress had been built from magnetized rock and metals. As Chason seethed, the walls themselves groaned under the pull of his out-of- control powers.
Job and the Council were forgiving the Air Phases; granting them the future that had been stolen from Mara. Absolution for the lives they’d stolen. For robbing Chason of his soul. For taking everything good in the world and snuffing it out like a candle.
It was… crazy.
Chason’s off-kilter laughter came straight from his missing heart. Wild and without a drop of humor, it echoed like nails across a chalkboard, corkscrewing down the spine of anyone who heard it.
Lansing cringed at the sound.
“Job’s such a fool.” Chason shook his head. “He’s always been so good. So righteous. I was like that once. But, Job doesn’t realize that nobility and principles died in the Fall, along with the rest of us.”
The metal hinges went flying off the door, pried free by nothing more than the force of Chason’s powers. The door toppled onto the floor at a crazy angle and the hardware flew through the air like deadly projectiles. Chason didn’t even bother to duck as they whizzed past his head and slammed though the glass window behind him.
“It won’t make a difference what the Council decrees.” He continued in an eerily calm voice. “The Air House will never be pardoned for its crimes. We’ll just use this amnesty to pick off the Air Phases who come out of their holes. Things are clearer to me, now. The Air House cheats, so we must cheat. No one can stop this reckoning. Not even Job.”
“Job will protect the Air House, though.” Lansing pointed out. “Protect them from
us
. We can’t stand for this.” Bitterness seeped into his tone. “Commander, Job is betraying everyone with this and we have to do something. He thinks that he can just do
anything
and we’ll accept it.”
“Job just wants everyone to get along.” Europa retorted. “Singing songs and holding hands. And, for his trouble, the crazy bastard’s gonna end up assassinated, one of these days. Not by us. By one of his loyal followers. Respectable citizens are always the ones to watch.”
The chain on the overhead light fixture broke, sending the massive chandelier crashing down. The walls continued to cry out in protest as the metal and stones ground together.
Chason didn’t notice. “Poor Job. He doesn’t understand that the world is different, now. So much different. There’s no place left in it for an honorable man.”
“Commander…” Lansing began, worriedly.
“Get out.” Chason braced his palms on the wrecked desktop and dropped his head. “Just leave me.”
Lansing and Europa were happy to comply.
Chason closed his eyes and struggled to rein in his colossal powers before they did any serious damage. Chason fully intended to destroy the universe, but only as a natural consequence of killing every Air Phase alive. For now, he had to regain control before he brought the entire Magnet Fortress down around him… or worse.
He didn’t blame Job for this.
Not really.
Chason actually pitied the man. Job couldn’t see the future clearly. He remained trapped in the past, clinging to decaying ideals and Boy Scout ethics. The Air Phases would take advantage of his obsolete integrity and destroy Job along with everyone else.
They stole everything good from the universe.
Mara would have forgiven the Air Phases, too.
That’s why Chason needed to find the Quintessence. So, he could use it to strike back for all the people who couldn’t fight for themselves. The just and the dead needed vengeance. And only Chason was left to get it for them. A formerly just man. A dead shell who still lived. Part of them and, yet, different. Able to avenge the better people of this world. It was his mission, now, and he saw what needed to be done so clearly.
Chason’s plan was simple and poetic: Give Parald the Fall.
Use the Quintessence to recreate the germ especially for the Air House.
It was Divine. It could do anything.
The Quintessence was the key to his revenge. He just had to find the fucking thing.
It was a person. Chason knew that much. A woman named Tessie, from Mayport Beach, Florida. One small, human-y woman, who worked as a frigging
bartender
, of all things. No matter how many soldiers he sent looking for her, though, they always came up empty. Tessie, the Divine cocktail waitress, outsmarted legions of trained assassins.
And now amnesty for the Air Phases!
No wonder he was losing his mind.
Sometimes Chason feared that he was actually the last sane man alive.
“You won’t be the only one angry about Job’s decision.” That calm pronouncement came from the darkest corner of the decimated room. “Many Phases will revolt. Reprisal membership will go up.”
Chason didn’t bother to lift his head. That rasping voice could only belong to one Phase in the universe. Raiden had nearly been beheaded by the Radiation House during the Fall and the wound had done serious damage to his vocal chords. “I said… get…
out
.” Chason repeated, flatly.
Raiden ignored that. “Job’s plan will fail, because people are assholes. Most of the Houses wouldn’t accept Air Phases. Most Air Phases won’t go to the other Houses. Europa’s right. People will begin to blame Job for trying to bring reason. No one likes reason.” He stirred slightly, still staying in the shadows. “This is the next step towards more of the same: death and betrayal.”
Raiden didn’t say anything without a reason. There were whispers that he was blessed; even louder whispers that he was cursed. And no one disputed that he was crazy. Raiden was the most solitary Phase in the Reprisal, which, given the bunch of paranoid, social rejects that Chason’s army tended to attract, was an impressive achievement. Other soldiers, no matter how grudging and resentful, could take orders. Raiden didn’t. He fought and planned and thought alone. God only knew what went on behind that impassive face.
Only the plus side, Raiden was the best fighter Chason had, even without the training or command following. He could go from complete stillness to an unprovoked blur of steel and blood faster than most Phases could even draw their swords. On the downside, there was always a 50/50 chance that Raiden would just flip-out and kill Chason and the rest of the Reprisal one day. And he tended to go off on philosophical, quasi-prophetical tangents that not even Raiden seemed to fully understand. That could get pretty damn frustrating.
For some reason, Raiden’s utter madness calmed the ragged edges of Chason’s mind, though. As long as Raiden was around Chason figured that he wasn’t the craziest person in the room.
More and more, Chason found himself listening to a man that most people crossed kingdom barriers to avoid. He turned to scowl at Raiden’s emotionless face. “Meaning what?”
“War’s coming.” The ruined voice grated over the words like sandpaper.
Chason gave another harsh, humorless laugh. “War’s
coming
?! Have you been in a coma for the last two years? War’s
arrived
and we’re right in the middle of a battle.” He shoved away from his desk. “If our side is going to win, I suggest you focus on fighting it.”
Raiden finally stepped forward into the light. He’d shaved his dark hair close to his head in an effort to obliterate the chartreuse streak at his temple, but the glowing green of his eyes still proclaimed him a Radiation Phase. The religious zeal that had contaminated the rest of his House had never infected Raiden. That was one of the reasons they’d tried to kill him. But, when he looked at Chason, there was something otherworldly in his gaze. As if Raiden could see beyond the stone walls and gray landscape of the Magnet Kingdom and into some vast well of secrets.
“There’s more than one war to fight and more than just two sides to fight on.” He said enigmatically. “The only thing that matters is what you’re fighting
for
.”
“I’m fighting for my Match!” Chason snarled. Mara was still the only thing in his world.
“We all have Matches.” Raiden retorted. “Maybe we can’t be with them, but they’re still the only reason for everything that we do. The way we love them can build or destroy.” His burning eyes pinned Chason. “There’s something else waiting on your path. It’ll send you one way or the other.”
That almost sounded like a warning. Chason frowned. “What the hell are you…?”
“Commander!” Lansing came dashing back in. “You should look out the window.”
The view out Chason’s window overlooked Mara’s sepulcher. He felt an inexplicable surge of panic that something might have happened to her body. It made no sense and some part of him knew that, but he was helpless against the compulsion to check on her. Chason tripped over debris as he raced over to peer out of the shattered glass at his Match’s grave.
Safe.
The white marble tomb stood in pristine silence amid the desolate scenery. The Magnet Kingdom was slowly dying, its vitality withering under Chason’s misery and indifference. But, he didn’t even process the decay of his homeland. All he saw was Mara’s undisturbed resting place.
She was still safe.
Chason closed his eyes in relief.
“In the sky, sir.” Lansing prompted when he realized that Chason’s attention was directed towards the ground.
“The…?” Chason looked up at the dreary clouds that blanketed his kingdom and then trailed off with a blink. He didn’t really understand what he was seeing for a long moment. It was like skywriting… only with light. Some outside force was scrawling graffiti on
his
sky. They’d broken through
his
barriers and were advertising in
his
space. The gigantic lettering lit up the overcast horizon; a single sentence that had Chason’s eyes narrowing in disbelief.
The
Revolution is coming.