Page 144 of Remnants: Disruption
“There was only ever one person like me. My entire life, I was surrounded by those who were lesser. Powerful, yes, but ultimately limited.”
She traces the pattern of red along her abdomen that curls up and behind her bra. It’s like a lightning strike painted to her body that traces from just below her collar bone down her chest and disappears beneath joggers.
“Not until you,” she says, still staring down at herself. “You, like me, have powers that should not exist.”
She waves her hand and red Affliction goops up through the skin of her palm.
I shift back a little, knowing just how toxic the fluid is. If Cass notices, she doesn’t say anything. Her eyes are focused on the undulating mass floating just over her hand.
“A long, long time ago,” she begins, breathing out like this itself is painful to retell, “I was a little girl. Maybe five years old. By this point the First Disruption had already occurred and Affliction flowed through most societies—expensive, but omnipresent.”
She hums a little and it sounds almost like a nursery rhyme.
“Europe had been flourishing with the developmental properties of Affliction, but so many had died because of its introduction. So few had yet to be Inflicted.”
She bends and curls her fingers and the ball of Affliction changes and shifts. It becomes a thin paned window that glows slightly.
Images flash along the surface. They’re grainy and difficult to make out, but the gist is there. Fire and war. Ancient civilizations granted access to a power far deadlier than they could have ever known. A power they should never have had.
A young man flashes to the surface. Dark hair and a pale, pointed face. He has orange eyes like Cass. His mouth is split in a warm, wide grin.
“That was Ivan Castor,” Cass says, still humming the same tune as the images flash by. “My cousin.”
I glance up at her, but her eyes are closed.
The image flicks again and shows what looks like an armored man standing upon a hill. The hill itself looks to be on fire and yet he stands there like nothing can harm him.
Like a camera operator, the image pans out and the pile becomes easier to see.
“In 1360, I was sixteen years old. A man came to our village promising medicines that could cure diseases we had never thought treatable. He said that the Affliction running rampant through the streets of the cities and kingdoms was meant for the people. He said that the power contained within it would bring upon a Golden Age.”
Cass’ eyes are squeezed so tightly, she looks like she’s in pain. Tears begin to crest at the corners and trail down her beautiful face.
I almost reach for her, but the Affliction-paneled screen flicks again.
“He lied.”
This time, a video plays. And it has sound.
“Please!” someone screams. “Please, it hurts!”
“Do not fear,” a voice like the crashing of vehicles comes from nearby. “I will take away your pain.”
The same voice from before screams louder. The scream turns into a sickly gargle before silence rings loudly.
The image shifts like it’s a camera sitting on someone’s chest or forehead. They looks over and see what had once been a person.
“Oh, God,” a much nearer young, female voice whispers. And then the camera tilts down to reveal skinny knees and bare feet.
A chill rocks down my spine and my gaze snaps to Cass. Her eyes are still welded tight, but she’s shivering. Tears are flowing down her face in earnest now.
“The gods are here now, child,” the eerily familiar voice says, sounding much, much too close. “With us. There is no one left to rule the heavens.”
An armored hand reaches down and pulls the girl to her feet. The camera dips to the girl’s chest to show rags and dirtied cloth. She stumbles forward before falling again onto her bare knees, crying out in pain.
“Where’s Ivan?” she cries, looking up to the beast of a man.
Darkrend looks down at her. His face and eyes masked by the garish helmet. With an exaggerated sigh, he waves his hand.
