The boy seemed
to drift to thought for a few moments. Then, frowning, he turned
back to Vestra and asked, “But …
how
?”
A sliver of
wariness crept through Vestra. She glanced around her, and then
bent closer to the boy.
“You happen
to be talking to a
mystic.
”
she said in a
hushed voice.
The boy’s eyes
went faintly wide. “You’re … a mystic?”
“And I know
you’re one too.” said Vestra, nodding.
“You do?” asked
the boy. “How come?”
She lowered her
voice even more. “I saw you fighting them off … Carcasar and the
Zelgron. I was in a nearby hill.”
“And you fought
them all off to save me?” he asked.
“It was easier
than it sounds.”
The boy gaped
at her for a second.
She gazed
around the field again, bitten by the same pang of pity for the
rest of the patients … perhaps … if she could just use a bit of her
powers to help them the way she had just helped save this boy.
“Hang on for a
while.” she told the boy. “I’ll be back.”
“Where’re you
going?” he inquired.
She glanced
around her again, and softly said, “The healers can’t handle all
these patients by themselves. Can’t you see they could use some
help?”
The boy’s
physical ailments seemed to still hold a clench over his mind: he
seemed to work through a daze to comprehend what he had just heard.
“So?”
Vestra gave him
an incredulous look. She realised then that he had just come out of
a heavy coma, and his lack of speed in processing everything was
not out of the ordinary.
“So? I’m a
mystic, aren’t I? Am I just gonna sit here and let my powers go to
waste? Not when people need my help!”
She jumped to
her feet and trotted off to a nearby patient. The man was dozing
steadily, but his skin was a deathly blue skin. A nasty stage. And
he was clearly teetering close to the end.
Bending down
over him, Vestra took in a deep breath. Placing a hand on the man’s
head, she felt the heat sting the front of her palm. She realised
that he needed a powerful dose of energy to fight whatever was
raging inside his body now. Tapping into the reservoir of energy
within her, she released it through her palm. Like a stream of
clear blue water trickling from a river, the energy flowed into the
man’s body. Letting it absorb the vital resource it needed to keep
him alive, to win this battle…
Finishing, she
moved from patient to patient. She was making sure nobody spotted
what she was doing, for the presence of a mystic among them would
be the last thing the people would welcome. But even if that
weren’t the case, Vestra wasn’t intending to make a show of what
she was doing. It was something to be done silently, like all good
things in the world…
When she was
done, she strode back to find the boy sitting up on his mat. His
gaze was far off, and he was absorbed in deep thought. There was a
strangely dark shadow over his face as he absently gazed across the
field.
Vestra sat down
beside the mat again. “Hey, I’m back.”
The boy’s head
snapped around to face her. And as his gaze found hers, something
seemed to settle within depths of those burning orange eyes.
“So tell me,”
Vestra said, letting her voice sink again. “What were you doing?”
She shook her head. “Look you my be a mystic, but you should know
better than to go looking for trouble. There are things in this
world that you shouldn’t tamper with. And Zelgron are one of them.
Carcasar is one you shouldn’t mess with…”
“Carcasar?”
“The warlord of
the Zelgron.” she answered. “The one whose eye you gashed.”
“That thing’s
got a name?” asked the boy, his jaw lowering.
“That thing’s
got more than just a name. It’s got a horrible fury.” A quiet
shudder crossed her. “Carcasar never forgets a target, never. And
for what you did, you’re definitely going to be in his hitlist … I
suggest you watch your back.”
The boy sat
straighter, looking unnerved. “You’re saying … he’s gonna be …
after me
or something?”
Vestra thought
for a moment, and finally said, “I won’t pretend to know … but he
won’t forget you.”
The boy turned
back, looking almost rattled. Vestra could see the dread in his
eyes after what he had just heard. She gave him a warm smile as he
turned to her again. “Look, believe me, there are far better things
in this world to be afraid of, than facing something you’ve already
faced.”
The boy frowned
absently.
“How’s it you
came by there, when they were attacking me?” he asked Vestra.
“I was just
crossing by, from a nearby village.” she answered.
The boy raised
an eyebrow, looking thoughtful. “Odd to find a mystic at a place
like this, in the inner spectrum. What were you doing there?”
“I don’t live
here. I was just here for a mission.”
The boy stared.
“A mission?”
Vestra scanned
her surroundings reluctantly. With a sigh, she said, “You see, I’m
a part of a group of,” She paused, searching for the right words.
“A group of … crime fighters, you can say.”
“Crime
fighters?” The boy sounded astounded.
“Mystic crime
fighters.”
“You mean…” he
asked, his eyes slightly wide. “You’re a part of a group of
mystics
who … fight crime?”
Vestra inclined
her head for a moment, trying to scent something in his tone.
“Well, yes … I can’t tell you exactly what we are.”
The word
mystics
and
crime
together seemed to invoke a sudden
blast of emotions from the boy … Something welled in those orange
eyes. Something heavy and raging…
Without
warning, the boy plunged into a story…
Vestra’s eyes
widened slightly, as she listened to everything. Everything about
his past. A story that moved her deeply. A story about a beautiful,
happy family. Two loving, elderly foster parents. And the two red
haired twins that they had adopted. A story of how the savage side
of the world had ripped apart the world that he had known…
He told her of
how his foster parents, Marion and Selia, and his twin brother, Eol
had been snatched from him. And how the evil face of this world was
responsible for everything he had lost. A loss that continued to
haunt him to this day.
As he finished,
sympathy welled within Vestra. She felt his grief reach her as well
… Drawing in a deep breath, She bent closer and asked in a soft
voice, “What’s your name?”
“Ion.”
“You’re not
alone, Ion.” she said. “We’re all facing it. What you’re going
through. It’s called
life
.”
“I somehow
doubt it.” snapped Ion. “Nobody would have survived what I went
through.”
Vestra shook
her head. “I’m not denying it. All I’m saying is that we all face
our dark phases in life. If you’re facing a darker phase that
anyone else, it just means there’s going to a brighter dawn at the
end.”
Ion stared
across the green field, watching the healers prepare to pack up and
leave for the day. Half of the patients were dozing on their straw
mats.
“When I was
younger,” Vestra said. “I used to wonder why there’s so much
suffering in our world. So much pain. Evil. Why, I used to ask
myself, were we put here … in a world which brims with chaos?”
Ion slowly
looked at her.
“Surely there
had to be a reason for it, right?” went on Vestra. “Surely there
was an explanation for the pain in our world … what was the meaning
in our living in a world filled with so much suffering?”
“I ask myself
that everyday.” said Ion. “Still haven’t found it.”
“Well, I have.”
said Vestra softly, feeling a smile touch her lips. “And it’s an
answer we’ve all known deep down … all along.” She turned and
looked over the wide green field and the dozing patients on the
mattresses, a majority of whom she had healed. “The suffering in
this world is the reason we’re here, Ion. Because we’re the ones
meant to put an end to it. We’re thrust into a world of pain for
the purpose of erasing the pain and giving it happiness. Because in
the end, it isn’t what you ask of life … it’s what life asks of
you, that matters.”
Ion’s orange
eyes lingered over her for a few silent seconds.
“I’m sorry for
whatever you’ve been through,” she said. “But just remember what
I’ve told you, when you wake up tomorrow and go on with your life.
And maybe you’ll find a measure of peace amidst the turmoil … a
glimpse of calm amidst the chaos.”
When Vestra
left the village, she had the faintest impression that she had
given a person something that may have helped them through a tough
phase. Her words.
And she was
right.
Because Ion was
never the same again, and that meeting had left an uneroded mark on
him…
The
present
For the first
time in his life, Evander felt completely lost. Helpless. A cold
shivering sensation found him as he continued to stare at it. The
picture placed on the table before him. The implications of what he
saw in the picture cast a reverberating blow across his entire
mind. Re defining the world as he knew it.
Evander wiped
his brow and took a deep breath, without removing his eyes form
what he saw in the picture on the table:
Five cloaked
figures.
Standing in the
middle of Mech facility’s hall.
Unleashing
chaos through their fingertips.
Evander
embraced what he was seeing in the picture.
There is no
denying what this means…
Evander had
served as the head of the Naxim’s high council for almost twenty
four years now. And in twenty four years, nothing had ever invoked
such dread in him. The picture was their worst fear realised. They
were facing a threat from the world’s most deadly enemy:
mystics.
Mech facility
in the planet Cransof had been subject to a terrorist attack that
had left their King and council of advisors dead. And this picture
was taken inside of the facility in the middle of the attack. The
five cloaked figures were the mystics who were reported to have
sieged the facility.
Evander had
been rattled when the news reached him. But he knew that before
anything, he needed to contain his own panic, and to prevent it
from spreading to the other members of the high council: before
alerting the other members of the council to this threat, he needed
to have it privately discussed with someone first.
“So what’s the
plan, sir?” said the only other person in the large board room,
seated on the opposite side of the board table.
A fellow member
of the high council, Derigor was a bankable source to rely upon for
advice. Someone whom Evander trusted for his composure in times of
crises. Such as this one.
“I honestly
have no idea.” said Evander. “I never dreamt we would be facing
something of this scale.”
Derigor looked
at the picture on the table before Evander. And a shadow stirred
within his eyes.
The man in the
centre of the five mystics, clearly their leader, was tall and
thin, robed in a black cloak. His hair was as black as ash,
covering his face in frames.
Evander looked
at Derigor with a stale sigh. “What do you think we should do,
Derigor? As the two highest authorities in the Naxim, we ought to
put a conscious decision to this testing situation.”
Derigor
continued to frown at the picture for a thoughtful second. Then he
finally said, “The first and foremost priority for us now, is to
find the culprits.” He raised his gaze to Evander. “And quite
honestly, I don’t think that’s gonna be easy.”
“It certainly
won’t.” Evander agreed. “And there isn’t a place we can start
with.”
The five lethal mystics responsible for this gruesome
attack are currently strolling free among us in the spectrum … And
they could be literally anywhere.
“If this threat
arises again … and these mystics re surface for another attack,”
Derigor paused for a grave moment. “Then we’ll have to call a full
fledged meeting of the high council. We’ll have to accept that the
worst is upon us… and act accordingly.”
Evander nodded
gravely.
He attempted to
piece the bits of this puzzle together. But nothing seemed to make
sense.
“But why?” he
whispered. “Why the Mech laboratory? What was their intention
behind the attack?”
A few seconds
of silence settled over the room.
And then, a
familiar beeping noise split the silence.
Evander pressed
a button on the desk before him, and a holographic screen enlarged
over the desk. Hanging steady over it.
A Naxim officer
stood inside the screen.