Page 98 of Remnants: Disruption
After some time, I no longer see spirits clouding my vision. My periphery no longer houses anguished faces. I no longer hear their whispers.
“Shit,” I cough out, sweat drenching at my back. The sand between my fingers grounds me as I kneel in it.
“Excellent,” Azazel says, sounding not even remotely different or impassioned. But I accept the praise, nonetheless.
It seems like something they don’t give out very often.
“So, you’ll want me to keep practicing this until I master it, then?” I ask, tilting my head up to them.
“No,” Azazel says immediately. “We will be moving on to using your shadows as weapons. I know you can do it, but I want to see the extent. I want to see you push yourself.”
I nod, grateful for the silence. For the first time there hasn’t been another occupying force.
“That I can do. Same time tomorrow?” I ask, pushing to my feet. The aches in my joints seem incongruous since I hardly moved from this spot.
“Yes, but you will join us for the nightly briefing,” Azazel says, lights in the colosseum flickering to life again. “It would be prudent for you to truly see what we are up against.”
Chapter 40
Massacre
November 4th, 1030 A.D., Evening
The world barely survived the Affliction War. We’ll be lucky if any of us survive the Remnant War.
President Ashworth, October 31st, 1030 A.D.
Azazel blessedly allows me a quick shower in the colosseum’s restroom. Dirt and debris wash from my body like I’d been rolling around in the sand for hours.
I glance down at my naked body and wince. The angles of my ribs and pelvis show more than they should. Hell, I can’t even remember the last time I ate. I imagine they forced nutrient paste into me while I was unconscious, but it has to have been well over a week since I’ve eaten a regular meal.
The shower itself feels glorious, though. For once, there is no one else here with me. Metaphysically, at least.
Mary’s face flashes unbidden through my mind at the stupid thought. The warmth of her body against mine the night before. The way she’d held me like I would disintegrate otherwise.
The way she might feel now pressed up—
“No,” I squeak, shutting off the hot water and letting the colosseum’s cold air hit me like a runaway train. “Not today, Satan.”
Azazel gives me a once over as I exit the training ground’s changing rooms. Their masked face hesitates for a moment at my upper neckline. But not in a weird way—more like they’re confused.
“Do you have a disguise?”
“Do I need one?” I ask glancing down at the fresh joggers and cloak. “I thought this was just the cult attire.”
“We are not—” Azazel huffs softly. “If you ever plan on leaving the Citadel, you will need something for your new identity. And anonymity may benefit you here as well.”
“Citadel?” I ask, and Azazel gestures to the colosseum.
“This cavern is Tempest’s capital. It is the Citadel.”
I file the information away and move on to the more pressing question.
“Do you not trust the people here?”
Instead of answering right away, Azazel begins walking towards the exit of the colosseum.
I lengthen my strides and fall into step beside them.
