Chapter Seventy-Seven: Ugratuk

  Galactic Quadrant: Darna Quadrant

  Ruling Government: Talum Merchant Federation

  Solar System: D-447

  Planet: Ora

  Location: Tarvashal, upper residential district, Private Shuttle Bay

  Luna’s hand trembles in mine. I have seen the look on her face before, from others beginning the change. Her jaw is tense as her eyes roll back and forth, her other hand scratching at the dark ichor rising up her throat. I see the pulsing of Netherium inside her, like infections it presses into her. Hope begins to flee my eyes as the remnants of her Etheric Maka begins to fail against the onslaught of the Netheric.

  “Save yourself.” She whispers.

  My jaw flexes at the remark. Yet again she tries to save me.

  “Amara,” I say.

  The wind barely moves at the word. From the edge of my perception. I see Krotha sitting upon the husk of a dead warrior's armor, her eyes dance with malice.

  She will not answer your call, no one will. For you are mine, and mine alone.

  She flicks her hand, a sinister smile rolling across her face as the rune she gave me burns in my flesh, like a brand she has marked me. It does not leave me as it did the first time she tried to mark me. There are no black flames to burn it away this time. Is this because I called her? Vek. My eyes narrow at her before looking away. Still, if she could control me, she would have already. If Amara is too much of a coward to come. Then I will call her. The horned woman. Will she come though? Will she also be afraid of Krotha?

  “Are you just going to let her die then?” I ask aloud.

  What will you give me to save her?

  Krotha’s question falls on deaf ears, I do not ask her, for I know that help from her will come with a price I do not wish to pay. Instead, I try to summon the horned woman with silver eyes and hair as white as fresh snow.

  “I wonder, will you really let her die, I don’t think so, not since she looks like…” my mouth slams closed, biting my tongue, warm blood spilling into my mouth. The wound seals after a moment. Krotha does not speak now, instead she moves towards me curiously with her head tilted to the side.

  “If you think I will not tell her…” my throat closes next, air tries to pass but cannot.

  My hand writes in blood upon the ground a single word in the old tongue, Ugratuk, an equivalent exchange. My silence, for her help.

  Krotha peers closer, her eyes burning brighter. Her mouth moves to open, but it never does.

  Time dilates, and Krotha does not move, as though she is caught in the time slip as well. In front of me, the horned woman has now appeared. She looks down upon Luna, her silver eyes swirling with color. After a few moments, she looks toward me, her eyes are sharp. Yet there is still no malice on her face. Perhaps it is because she looks like Luna, there is comfort in her gaze. I have so many questions for this silver-eyed woman. Who is she? Why does she look like Luna? The only difference is the horns and the color of their hair and eyes… my perception traces along the horns upon her head, when I first saw her, they were smaller. Strange.

  A flash of movement and now she stands in front of me, placing a single finger on my forehead. Light flashes. Memories sliding across my mind now, delicately though. Unlike how Krotha grasps and squeezes them from me. This is gentle, like the warm breeze that wafts from a steam pipe against the frigid cold. I see Luna back in the abandoned city, showing me what she called mana tracing. Mana tracing… the horned woman points towards Luna. She places a finger on my lips now, one that says silence will follow. Time moves back suddenly, the horned woman nowhere in sight. Krotha moves forward towards me, still peering curiously.

  “So, I did not need your help,” I say, were I not relieved to have a means to help Luna, I think I would have been more bitter that I did not figure it out myself.

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  Have you gone mad already my pet? Speaking to things that are not there. Perhaps I am wrong to take an interest in you. Are you already broken? It is to be expected after breaking two boundaries in a single day. What a shame, what a waste.

  Krotha lets out a sigh as she approaches. Did she not see the woman? There is no time to think about it now. First I must help Luna.

  She’s going to die. There isn’t anything you can do about it. Unless you submit to me fully. I can quell the madness for a time.

  Her words become silent as my lungs press the air slowly outwards, my eyes closing. A ripple from me echoes in the Netheric Maka. My will resonating with it. The rhythm humming from the core of my being just like the Sage and Luna taught me. The calm fills me as I draw in breath. Form it. Shape your will into action. A pulse emanates from my heart. Shaking the air. Momentum becomes motion as the wind moves with it. Swirls of color begin to bend all around me. My hand moves over the deposits of Netherium in Luna’s body.

  Become greedy for it… pull it all in. Torrents of air crack with energy around me. I have begun to feel it, the siphon of Netheric Maka that swells around me. Like a drain has been pulled at the bottom of an ocean, I am the epicenter of where it flows. My blood turns back and forth inside me, feeling like it boils and freezes. The damage healed nearly instantly from the ichor. Where do I put all of this energy though? It tears inside me faster and faster. There is something else past all the pain… another boundary… everything is becoming tense again like I’m going to break it.

  Black dust coats the gales of wind, so much that I choke on it, but I do not stop. I will not. I will master this cursed body, I will become strong enough to break the chains of fate. My eyes ignite at my goal… at my dream. Strength becomes law in this galaxy. I will become strength itself. No one will… my eyes droop as the Netherium dries up. Black bile spewing from me again. Not yet… I felt another boundary. How many are there? What do they mean? Looking down, I see Luna’s eyes flitting open. The black lines no longer tracing upon her body, the red glow having left her runes. Her eyes begin to splinter with their normal purple hue.

  Darkness enthralls me, bidding me towards the Realm of Dreams, but I do not go, the darkness is not my master. My eyes pull open as I raise my weary body. There is work to be done. I do not fall here. My arm reaches down, pulling Luna up with me. Her eyes flit weakly, the crimson glow fading in them.

  As I carry her, my eye traces to the Cursed Edict that lays upon the ground. Stopping me in my tracks for a moment. This little box, why is it so powerful? It is evil as she said. My eyes trace over to Krotha who has been strangely silent, though she watches me still. Her words grate inside my head once more.

  Pick it up.

  My hand leans down and grabs it, Krotha's eyes becoming brighter as her grin folds deeper. It does not last for long. As I hurl it out into the city, curse the box, curse Krotha. Whatever Luna needs the box for, it is not worth this. Krotha's eyes grow wide as she watches the box fall to the depths of the city below. As she disappears from view, she whispers one last thing.

  Fool.

  Lights begin to flicker on as the Netheric Maka disperses into the night air. Each step forward, I feel sicker. Like my organs are twisted up. I can’t stop though. It is not safe here. Dallus may have more people. Strangely, even though I am weary and becoming sick, her body feels lighter somehow than when I carried it before. Is that part of the boundaries? So many questions.

  Before I can ponder them further, light billows above. My heart sinks as I see a shuttle coming closer to us. Sekat. Turning sharply, I almost stumble with Luna over debris from the fighting. The weariness calls deep into the roots of my body, telling my bones to rest, telling my muscles to sleep. My eyes are drooping again as I make it to a panel, I don’t even know how to make it open the door. My fingers clumsily patter on the screen, sticky blood prints being left behind. Vek. Why is everything always so difficult? Why must I always struggle? My teeth grind as I turn toward the shuttle. Fine, come. There is still fight in me. The Netherium in my body is drying up quickly, trying to repair whatever is happening inside me perhaps. My eyes are becoming blind once more to the sway of Maka in the air. Swelling gloom into my vision instead.

  The shuttle hovers but does not fully land. The loading bay door opens. A single figure comes from it, limping. My eyes squint against the contrasting light behind them. It is… Fennec, he lives then. His eyes trace the torn apart landing pad, hanging on Dallus’s disconnected head for a moment before he swears loudly. Shaking his head, he limps closer to us.

  “How are you…” Fennec asks, looking me up and down “How are you not a Shulka?”

  I shouldn’t be surprised by his reaction. The last time he saw me, I was filled with Netherium. What does surprise me though is his lack of hostility now.

  “How is she?” he asks, warily coming closer.

  “I got the Netherium out,” I say, trying to hide how weak I am, pressing my shoulders out firmly. I do not think I would win against Fennec in a fight right now.

  My lip quivers before more bile spews from me. My mouth salivating uncontrollably as I cough the dark sludge from my throat.

  “What the frag is that?” he asks, pulling Luna up with him now and backing away, moving toward his shuttle.

  My legs try to follow, but I am weaker now that the Netherium dwindles. Pressing, crushing, like needles all over my body, stabbing and scraping. Was I in this much pain last time? My legs buckle as they hit the ground, a shard of metal stabbing into my leg. I groan as I pull it, the wound does not close. Vek. I should have left it in. It didn’t get an artery though, the blood seeps, it does not spray.

  Fennec disappears past the loading bay door of the shuttle. My eyes blink as the door begins to close without me onboard. He is leaving me. Alone. My eyes look around at the carnage. They will surely kill me for being involved in this. Before the door fully closes, it stops. Beginning to open once more. Fennec is limping toward me again. Swearing heavily.

  “I better not regret this.” He says, groaning as he heaves me up and helps me stand. One of his deep brown eyes is still half crimson.

  He is helping me? Why did he change his mind? Thoughts fall away as I feel the embrace of the seat. I feel him bind my hands and my legs but I do not resist. Sleep’s lullaby can only be denied for so long.