Creative Corner

I watch her walk out of the building. Fear washes over me. I did the right thing; she has to know. I wait for a bit and watch the scene unfold. Her friends arrive on the scene and swarm her with questions and relief. Shortly thereafter, her parents make their appearance, looking as cold as ice. She's safe; they wouldn’t dare take her in the open. Not in front of the two best operatives in the New Order. No, they can't afford to risk that much….

I know I disobeyed the commands given to me. They told me to keep her unconscious, but I couldn't do it. To aid in the kidnapping, justified or not, I just couldn’t do it. I remember it all so vividly, replaying it over and over.

It was earlier this morning. It had to have been just barely 0300. I had arrived much earlier to work than usual. I was told yesterday that I would have a special caseload and was to report early to receive a debriefing.

I had walked into the building using the staff doorway when I heard shouting from down the hall. My head told me to ignore it, that it was just another meeting with the head scientist from the New Order base, since they were almost always loud. My gut told me otherwise. I looked down the hall, then behind me, as if I was expecting someone to tell me what to do.

Nothing. I was alone with my nagging thoughts.

Against my better judgment, I chose to follow the yelling. The voices led me down the halls, past the doors to the patient ward, and toward the conference rooms.

At the very beginning of my training, my colleagues and I were strictly told to stay out of that hallway. When I had asked why, I was shushed rather rudely, and then they threatened to take my job.

My coworkers and I had fun speculating what was really down there. Anything from stories of aliens to rumors of advanced tech. Topics made up like a child's story for fun. To get some laughs, a joke….

I went along the corridor until I reached the door to the conference room hall. Big red lettering spelled out, “KEEP OUT, AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY”. I paused and studied the door. Apart from the red lettering, the door was pure white like the rest of the hospital. It had a security panel with a keypad. The keypad was supposed to keep the door locked, but it was slightly open. As if teasing someone to enter. And I did.

I kept my steps quiet and my pace slow. The door had led to a long tile-floored hallway with doors on either side. Each with a tag that said “Conference Room” and then the number. There was only one door slightly open, with only a slit of light coming out of it at the very end of the hall. Warning bells and flags went up everywhere in my mind.

At the very end of the hall, more yelling echoed from further down the hall. None of it made sense. If you go through so much trouble to keep this hallway closed off, why leave the door open? Why hold a meeting this early in the morning? Why tell me to be here this early? What in the world am I doing?

I was broken out of my thoughts when I heard a clear male voice scream out, “JUST BRING JACLYN TO ME!”

I quietly crept my way to the door frame and tried to look in. The crack where the door was open was at an angle so I could only see a broken chair and a part of a shiny black table. I then spied through the keyhole in the door. It was rather large-ish, enough so that I was able to see through it. I held myself very still and tried to slow down my heartbeat.

I could make out three men sitting around the black table I had seen through the crack. They were all looking down at the floor. I had quieted myself enough to listen to their conversation. I remember there were four voices, three of which were undoubtedly my supervisors, Mr. Green, Mr. Luise, and Mr. Corble. The fourth voice I couldn't recognize was male, but it sounded electronic. I assumed they were all looking at a hologram, which made sense since they were all looking at the floor. All the men in the room looked angry, and the hologram sounded annoyed.

“We can't move her during the break of day! The staff might get nosy, and the New Order would want to know why she was being moved. Henceforth, they will do their own medical check-up, and when they see what we have seen, they will report back to her parents. Oh, not to mention her parents ARE THE TOP OPERATIVES IN THE NEW ORDER! YOUR PLAN WILL CRUMBLE!” Mr. Green yelled at what I could only assume was the holographic man.

“Then find a way, I don't care how. Kill her if need be. I need her body, dead or alive. And let me make myself very clear here, she needs to be intact. I need her for further tests.” The hologram said with a calmly laid out threat.

I started to get frustrated; I couldn't see who, or what, they were talking to. Curiosity was killing me. I couldn't move, though; if I did, the door would move, blowing my only cover between these men and me.

“No, no, no, no, no, we must keep her alive.” Mr. Luise shook his head vigorously. “If she dies, it will be automatically saved in the system along with the reason why. If we disconnect her, then that will be logged as well. The New Order has access to every electronic file in this hospital. Except for this one.” Mr. Luise huffed out.

“We could move her at night….” Mr. Corble suggested.

“What are you proposing here? And be explanatory, because I am not in the mood for guesswork.” The hologram said, annoyance laced in his voice.

“Hear me out, gentlemen, it is strictly illegal to move patients during the night, because of your recent stunts,” he made a gesture to the hologram, “we could get a transport to take her, at 0300 precisely.” He looked around the room.

“What about the tech? As Mr. Luise said, it would be logged.” Mr. Green inquired, skeptical.

“That's why I said precisely at 0300. Because that's when all the tech in the hospital systematically reboots. That means if we disconnect her at 0300 exactly, the machine won’t log it as a disconnection. It will reboot and log her as dead.” Mr. Corble said.

“What? I mean, this has so–” Mr. Luise started, but got cut off.

“Calm yourself, Mr. Luise, go on, Mr. Corble.” The hologram commanded.

“Remember that one case six months ago that we were dragged into?” Mr. Corble addressed the rest of the men.

“Oh, I see where you’re going with this.” The hologram said, slightly amused.

“The system rebooted and killed the man in one of the critical condition rooms.” Mr. Corble tapped his finger on the table. “We fixed the issue when the New Order began to breathe down our necks, for the most part. It was relayed that it was just an unfortunate accident, as the technology was rather new at the time. But it wasn’t an accident.” Mr. Corble smirked. “I personally oversaw the matter. There’s a flaw in the system that causes some safeguards to malfunction. I installed it myself, figuring it might help your cause eventually. It appears that I might be right.” He lifted his head confidently. “I can activate it without getting caught.”

“But–”

“As for the timing, at 0300, there will be no staff, and nobody will be awake. When the girl is in your possession, we can kill the pilot after you get her. Therefore, ensuring no one finds out.” He said as all the men in the room relaxed and got a look of relief on their faces.

“This could work,” Mr. Green said.

“Indeed, it can,” Mr. Luise agreed.

“Then it's settled, gentlemen; see to it immediately.” The hologram commanded.

“Oh, don't worry, I have one of my trusted nurses coming in early today to see your Jaclyn. She should be here in the next twenty-ish minutes, 0400 to be exact.” Mr. Corbal said proudly.

I knew he was talking about me. I automatically backed away from the door. I crept back down the hallway and left the door as I found it. I didn't want a single trace of my presence left. I picked up my pace when I got a safe distance between me and the restricted door. I almost ran back to the patient ward. I had stopped at the door to catch my breath.

“Nurse?” I heard a male voice behind me. I nearly froze. More red flags arose as questions flooded me. How in the world did he get here so fast? I took a deep breath and turned around. I was face-to-face with Mr. Corble.

“Hello, sir, huff. I came early, huff, like you said you wanted me to.” I calmly explained.

“You look as if you ran a marathon. What's the rush?” He asked so calmly. He wasn't fazed by the crushing fact that he helped plan a girl's kidnapping. Maybe even murder.

“I was running late and thought I wouldn't make it. I mean, I have never been one to disappoint, and I wasn't going to start now.” I said, slowing my heart rate to a normal pace.

“I understand perfectly. It is…” he glanced at his silver watch, “0400 exact. Good work, Nurse.” He said, then flashed me a smile that sent a shiver down my spine. I couldn’t understand why it was 0400 already, nor what it all meant. I tried my best to return the same smile.

“Well, let's get on with your special assignment.” He continued, pushing past me. I followed him down the halls of patients until he stopped at the room of one of them.

“Now, this patient is very important, for classified reasons. With that said, I can't tell you much, only that the New Order put in a very odd request to move this girl to one of their ward facilities. Although I'm pretty sure it has to do with her parents. You’ll understand when you get her file. I can understand why they would want her closer, and I'm pretty sure you could too,” he had put a hand on my shoulder. “These orders include keeping this patient unconscious at ALL times. She is not to be awakened. For her safety and ours.” He put his hand back to his side as I took note that he wouldn't make eye contact with me, “You are to be in charge of her until 0200 tomorrow. Understood?” He finished. The lie left his lips effortlessly.

I flashed him one of my award-winning smiles, the smile that all doctors and nurses have meant to calm patients down or to distract them. He had fallen for it.

“Understood, I shall do my best.” I lied, I had to.

With that, he left without looking back.

I walked into her room. It was still dark, but the dim light from the hallway illuminated the room just enough that I could make out the blade under her pillow. A good nurse would have reported it, removed or thrown it away. I did none of those things that morning.

I simply moved her long black hair so I could tuck it under her pillow better. Then I arranged her hair to cover it. I took a step back; you couldn't see it even if you knew what you were looking for.

I grabbed her file from the counter but didn't open it. I knew everything I needed to know. Her name is Jaclyn, and she needed to go. By go, I mean to leave this place and never come back.

I pulled her heart monitor closer to me and got to work. I had programmed it to stop all her medication, and at exactly 0600, to give her the reversal. I put in an order for the machine to make an automated call to her classmates and parents to all be here by 0630 so they could pick her up.

I went through her medical records. It wasn’t the first time she’d been admitted to a hospital. And I doubt this would be her last. I misclicked on the screen, and it took me out of the normal medical software that I was used to. At the bottom left corner, there was a slight oddity. I clicked on it, and it pulled up a program that made me want to hurl.

They were running physiological reports on her, probing her mind, leeching off of her. I would have shut it down, but I couldn’t find a way to terminate it. I wasn’t good with programming or this kind of tech, so I was a bit useless here. I hoped that I could at the very least save her life.

I took the time to go through her psychological reports. I wasn't surprised when I found all her psychological results inconclusive. I mean, my supervisors said she was special. When I was done, I waited and waited. I waited for an hour and a half, just sitting there in front of her monitor.

I wandered about the hospital. I was waiting for her to wake up. When 0600 rolled around, I had started mapping out every possible way she could have gone. As I walked past the staff hallway, which was supposed to be empty at this time, I caught a glimpse of the women's staff shower room slightly cracked open with the lights on. Bingo.

I tried to look normal as I started to walk past the entrance. It was open, and I saw her. We made eye contact as she asked me to help her. To which I had said, of course. I relaxed my body as I bandaged her. I had turned away from her for just a second, and when I turned back, the extra badge I had next to her was gone. I pretended not to notice.

I remember being so nervous when she asked me to help her find her stuff, but I did. I took her on a wild goose chase for her clothes, but not without a good reason. I took her through the staff part of the hospital, which had no cameras, and lied when she asked why. I had told her it was for laundry purposes, which wasn't a total lie, but not the true reason, nevertheless.

When we were close to being done, I stopped by the pharmacy room. I quickly told her that I was getting some over-the-counter meds for her pain. Another lie, but hey, I was on a roll. I took the time to make sure the room was empty, then grabbed an empty bottle.

I grabbed a blank piece of printer paper from the closest shelf, then wrote a note detailing everything she needed to know, you know, all the stuff I didn't and couldn’t tell her. I then folded it small enough so that it would fit in the bottle. I shoved it in and placed the whole thing at the very bottom of her bag. I took a deep breath and walked back out of the pharmacy room.

I led her down back to the staff block and into the women's locker room. She went in and then came out five minutes later, with understanding in her gaze.

“Do you have everything?” I asked.

“Yes, I have everything, I promise.” She had said, she looked me in the eyes when she said it. She got my message.

My whole body relaxed. Good, my job is done… I let relief flood through my body. I led her down to the exit, passing tons of security cameras, but hey, what could they have done? I have won…We made it past the still-empty help desk. My coworkers won't be here for another half hour.

As we reached the door, I gestured toward her friends, “Your friends are waiting for you. Make sure you rest.”

I feel a soft smile come to my face. This was worth it. I watch her as she and her classmates board the bus. Her parents have returned to their vehicle. I turn back to the help desk. Before I can register anything, a gunshot rings out, and I smile as the world goes black.

Before she even opens her eyes, Tlamotqui can feel the suffocating, humid air cling to her scales, feeling hot and sticky. She tries to draw in a breath, and a wisp of spiderweb drifts into her nose. She snorts, her eyes snapping open.

A laugh escapes Tlamotqui’s maw, increasing in volume as her body trembles from her manic laughter.

Her plan was never to make it out ‘alive’. No, clearly her captor wanted to switch things up. Tlamotqui wanted to make sure that she would be the one to put a twinge of fear into her captor, not the other way around. She wants a soul for her Basilisk? She lets out a puff of frigid air. I’ll make sure you regret it, you mongrel.

Her anger seeps out of her scales with a sharp creak. It echoes through the limestone walls of the cave. A single flickering candle is sealed to the floor in wax. Tlamotqui hisses, realizing that she is trapped. Webs cling to her body, encasing her to the floor.

“Are you feeling okay? You look a little… ssstressed.”

Something is sitting by the candle, slumped in a seat strangled by cobwebs. It looks like a dragon with an uncomfortable number of legs, its true features hidden by the flickering shadows. It seems to be using the spidersilk to knit.

It gives Tlamotqui a grin, its fangs reflecting in the candlelight. “There'ssss no need to be tense. It's warm here. Safe. Why don't you relax?”

Tlamotqui ignores the thing and casts her gaze directly at the point where Bella is peering into her dreams from.

“Do you really think this is the first time I’ve been caught in a dream, little Tundra?” Tlamotqui tuts. “How naive.” She growls. “How long do you think it will take until my fangs pierce your hide and my claws rip into you?” She hisses, a wave of frost fuming from her mouth. “It won’t be long until I take you and every one of you vile beasts who torment our souls into the pits of despair!” Her voice grows louder as the lines between what happened in the past and what is happening here and now blur together.

“I WILL make you suffer as we have! YOU CAN HIDE IN YOUR MACHINES, BUT THEY WILL NOT SAVE YOU FROM OUR WRATH!!!” Tlamotqui thunders. A wave of ice crackles forth, and Tlamotqui bursts from the frozen webs. Her head twisting to the side with a glossy look in her eyes, her gaze lowering. “This is for Hishun,” she whispers, trembling with an unquenchable rage and sorrow. “You remember him, don’t you ….? You had me slit his throat. It was so easy, wasn’t it? Ordering me to do it like an obedient little mutt. Well, it’s no wonder, you had us in the palm of your hand with the constant memory overrides and the loving parent act… He wasn’t a traitor… none of them were… we were just innocents… innocents you mutilated for your own amusement.” Tlamotqui lifts her gaze once more, her eyes cold. “Well... now it’s your turn.”

The dragon watches Tlamotqui break free from the threads in a frozen explosion. It puts aside the knitting needles, frustrated by her. “You've made me lose my count. That'ssss rude, you know. I've invited you into my home, and you sssspoil my project.”

It gets up slowly. It's a lot bigger than Tlamotqui initially thought it was, body rising up over the shattered webs, eight legs unfolding from the chair. It still has the face of a dragon, watching her with out-of-place concern.

It approaches on stumbling, skittering legs, a pair of furry pedipalps grabbing her face. It forces Tlamotqui to meet its eyes. Her eyes were cold, almost dead inside. “I'm keeping you safe. Don't you undersssstand? Nothing can get you inside the cocoon. Nothing can kill you, nothing can hurt you. You'll be okay. You'll be okay.”

The spider thing's words reminded her of her past. Tlamotqui growls low, defiance sparking in her eyes.

The webs spread up her body again. She fights the webs, frosting them and snapping them. But the webs climb faster than she can fight back. They latch onto her chest, her belly, her wings, wrapping her up in a cocoon. They span across her face, latching across her airways, cutting off all chance of escape and oxygen. Tlamotqui closes her eyes and lets the darkness envelop her.

It wasn’t a horrible way to die.

Ever since the day she became aware, she imagined a death for herself far worse than mere asphyxiation.

The crack of thunder causes Tlamotqui to open her eyes. It was an almost normal sight, save for the sunlight with no source. The sky is dark with storm clouds. Nothing hinders her movements or her sight.

Tlamotqui moves forward, testing the dream. A blistering wind hits her wings, blowing her backward. It stills as soon as she stops moving, the silence broken only by the rumbling thunder above.

So it’s one of those simulations… Tlamotqui has faced something similar in her training before.

Methodically, Tlamotqui slinks forward, testing. Again, wind forces her off course. It happens every time she moves: every twitch, every movement. The dream isn’t to move forward. It’s to… her eyes shine, and she winds herself up. She launches forward with a roar.

The wind roars right back, growing in strength and speed until it bowls her over, sending Tlamotqui spinning as she coils herself into a ball, rolling until she hits something solid, the wind dropping as she stops.

Tlamotqui uncoils, rising above the gust as she pulls herself up with a shake. She’s landed at the foot of a plinth, the grey stone rising above her head. She pulls herself around the base until the worst of the wind is blocked by the stone that looms over her.

Tlamotqui cranes her neck, taking in the magnitude and immaculate detail of the carved out basalt and granite dragon staring down at her. It's uncannily familiar. Tlamotqui bristles as she knows every feature of that body that stands over her. It's… her.

Tlamotqui’s been immortalized in stone in such elegant detail. Every feather, every muscle tenderly captured, every scale layered and chiseled into the basalt. For a moment, she sees herself as the mason sees her.

Tlamotqui places a shaky claw on the stone. She’s a warrior. She was bred to be one, molded and perfectly crafted and fawned over. Her captors had made it painfully easy for her to cut down anyone and anything that stood in her way. Friend or foe. Her entire purpose, the reason she was born, was to be an executioner.

The mason had captured her immaculate pink feathers and scales. Her companions were perfectly etched into their places on top of her grand figure, fierce and proud.

And then… something unexpected happens. Plop, plop. Drops fall onto the stone. Tlamotqui can’t hold her emotions back anymore. She places her head on the statue and wails like a child who has just lost everything. Her mournful cry echoes over the howling wind.

The stone melts into a new figure, her true form. A small human. She’s small and lean, built to be fast. Her hair is twisted into a bun, her dark hair shining in the sun. She bears a pair of blackened daggers, her stance dropped into a fighting form, a gun strapped to her waist.

Beside her are two others, both male. On her left is a boy, a few inches taller than her, with messy brown hair. He holds a sniper rifle, his finger on the trigger, eyes bearing down the scope, ready to provide cover fire. On her right is another boy, roughly the same height as she is. His hair is much sharper, much cleaner than the boy on her left. His blonde hair glints in the sunlight. He holds a pistol in his hands, his stance ready for battle.

Three names are placed at the bottom. Tlamotqui, Tristan, and Hishun.

Her trusted companions. The ones they took… the ones she took. It all had happened so fast. One moment, they were all smiles and laughter, happily training together. The next…

“Your next targets are Hishun Alis and Tristan Marlow.” The crackle of her leader’s voice echoed in her ear. Tlamotqui’s heart skipped a beat. She couldn’t pinpoint why her heart dropped at the mention of their names, but she decided to ignore it as her leader continued to brief her, “They were spotted outside the Omega sector sharing intel with the enemy. Take them out by any means necessary.”

“Copy that, Tlamotqui, over and out.” Tlamotqui rose from her spot. She summoned her Techs, a fearsome mechanical contraption resembling an inkling of a rabbit. It bore massive claws and sharp metallic teeth. It had shoulder cannons, primed and ready to fire. The other was a hawk equipped with top-of-the-line surveillance equipment. Underneath its metallic wings, it bore Gatling guns. They were silently spinning, awaiting the fateful moment Tlamotqui gave the order to unleash the arsenal.

Tlamotqui flipped open the panel hidden behind her glove. She uploaded the file her leader sent to her companions.

“Find them.” At her command, the two Techs silently launched into the forest. It wasn’t long before the Techs found them. She received the feed from her Techs. They were fleeing, unbridled horror etched onto their faces. The knots in her stomach continued to churn as she joined the pursuit, grabbing her hoverboard and zipping through the thick forest.

Tristan gritted his teeth. “I don’t understand!” He yelled, tears falling from his eyes. “WHY are you doing this?!” No answer, but the beasts were still chasing. “I can’t…” He whipped around and fired at the beast tailing them. Wrong move.

Hishun wailed and stumbled over something in his path. He screamed as the rabbit slammed its claws into him.

The hunt was over. Tlamotqui reached them, a scowl forming on her face.

“How could you!” Hishun screamed over the agony. Tlamotqui had now reached him. The rabbit looked to her, awaiting her orders. “How could you kill him, Tlamotqui! He was your friend! Your partner! You… you murderer!”

Tlamotqui faltered. How did he know her?

“Tlamotqui, what’s the situation?” Tlamotqui’s leader patched in. She rolled back her shoulders, her face retreated to that blank slate, void of any emotion.

“I located the targets. Preparing to execute the final one.”

“Excellent work, Tlamotqui.”

“Don’t listen to them! We know the truth! They’re using you, Tlamotqui! DON’T–” With a single flick, it was over.

Tlamotqui sniffles, opening her eyes to look at the statue. When was the last time she mourned their deaths? Oh, right, she’s been so busy taking care of the other children with similar cases to hers. She may have been only a year older than them, but they still congregated around her. Just like Tristan and Hishun had. She shared similar aspirations to her leader and her savior. She wanted to protect the smiles that had only recently been sprouting on their faces.

“No child should ever have to go through what we have.” Jaclyn had said, rubbing Kevin’s ashened hair as he lay fast asleep in her arms. “They’ll have to pay for their sins. But the most important thing is to foster new beginnings and a new hope in the afflicted children and the ones who come after us, for generations to come.”

This statue is a memorial, a token of grief. Every piece has been immortalised: the strength, the fears, the flaws. The monster lurking inside. The epitaph on the plinth reads: No loss will ever hurt like this.

Tlamotqui sets her jaw and strikes her statue with all her might. Her figure crumbles, leaving just the two boys. Tlamotqui scratches out her name, bitter tears stinging her face.

“Forgive me, my friends…” She whimpers. It would be best if her past self were forgotten.

Outside of the dream, Bella shows an inkling of surprise. The surprise quickly morphs into anger. She moves over and kicks Tlamotqui's sleeping form. She glares down at her. “You're going to be a warrior. You're going to be stronger than you've ever been before. Tears are for weaker dragons than us! You and I, we're going to change everything.”

Without warning, Tlamotqui leaps up from the table and grabs Bella by the throat, her claws sinking into the Tundra’s pelt with a terrifying roar that threatens to tear the walls down. The temperature drops as Tlamotqui breathes a frosty hiss down at the small frame in her claws. Her eyes are still closed, and the dream is still operating. This was her instinct taking over. The Tundra gasps for air, a gurgle present in her throat, Rainstorm scrambling to his paws, coming to the aid of Bella.

Tlamotqui’s mouth opens, and an icy sweet voice echoes as two voices tut, “Oh, Bella. Did you know? Every soldier they bred, trained, or otherwise acquired was forced to endure all kinds of poisons and drugs.” She releases the Tundra, silently laughing as she gasps for breath. The Auraboa looms from where she stands, unmoving.

“It was a well-crafted concoction, I’ll give you that. But I’m afraid those things don’t work on me.” Her smile darkens. “The children of the Forsaken are immune to those kinds of things. It shouldn’t be humanly possible, and it isn’t.” In the dream, Tlamotqui puts a claw to her chin. “Do you even know what a human is? Eh, I suppose it doesn’t matter.” She shrugs. “Truthfully, I could just break out of here. It's a piece of cake when you’ve been through something like this 583 times.” As if to prove her point, she takes a single claw and rips through the fabric of the dream. “They liked to erase their soldiers' minds and emotions just a tad bit too often.”

She had been 'awake' since the beginning, patiently discerning their moves. Tlamotqui knew the moment Bella mentioned a soul where this was heading. But where’s the fun in taking her out at the start?

“Why am I dreaming then?” Tlamotqui laughs, her piercing white eyes glowing in the monitor. “I like a challenge. I’m curious as to what you’ll throw at me next.” She chuckles. “Tears are for the weak, huh? I thought so too once. And you know what? I find the tears, these tears, to make way for things much stronger, much more dangerous than any emotionless machine could ever be.” Her eyes grow sharp and cold. “Consider this a warning, this isn’t going to play out well for you. You are not the first to try this.” She taps her head. “You may be brilliant in your own way, Bella, but your actions will only get you killed by your own creations. Take it from someone who has killed the being who made her and many others, killing machines for the same reasons you are.”

The motionless Auraboa breathes out a frosty mist, enveloping everything in a chilling haze.

“Oh, and unless you want a repeat of the rampage, you'd best keep your claws to yourself.”

The Tundras blink, and the mist disappears. And the strange thing is, Tlamotqui is right where she was only a few minutes ago, motionless, and in the dream.

Was I dreaming?

Bella grasps her throat, feeling a cold sting. The puncture marks with wisps of a chilling vapor pouring out of the wound with fresh blood may indicate otherwise.

…..

By this time, Tlamotqui had moved away from the statue and the memories it held as if nothing had happened. She caught the flow of the wind, using the momentum to launch herself into the sky.

Huge boulders of basalt and granite have been torn off the statue by the fierce wind, rolling and bouncing across the savannah below her, casting deep craters with every crack!. Ampelopes sprint across the plains ahead of them, followed by quillrunners, lionsnakes, skira, and even centaurs, fleeing in panic from the wind tearing behind her. As she watches from up on high, a boulder slams into one of the plainstriders, causing his friend to scream his name in grief.

You can't get away from yourself.

The wind grows in velocity and strength until it begins to rip her surroundings away, tearing plants out of the sand and wrenching fissures open in the ground. It rips the world out from underneath her, dissolving everything until she’s the only thing left. The wind dies as suddenly as it started.

The roar is replaced by the gentle rush of water. Tlamotqui lifts her head to smell salt spray, sharp and tangy on the breeze. Sunlight, real sunlight this time, not just some unexplainable lighting, is filtering through the leaves above.

Tlamotqui had expected the beach to be made of sand or the satisfying sound of ocean-tumbled pebbles, but no. The beach is comprised of moss, a sea of green that spreads from the forest to the water.

Peace. That would be the perfect word to describe this scenery on the surface. Insects buzzing, birds diving and swooping, catching the insects. A different sound interrupts the peace: thunk. Hishun launches into the sky, a mist showering his path as he searches.

Tlamotqui tunes into her snowy companion’s senses, peering out of his eyes. She finds herself staring down into crystal-clear water. A broken piece of lumber has hit the overhang, splashing gently with the waves.

Hishun does an aerial sweep, locating the remains of a wooden boat floating on the surface, drifting slowly away from the wreck site on the horizon. It looks fresh, but there was no audible indication of it going down, nor what caused it.

Tlamotqui pulls herself away from Hishun’s eyes and sweeps her eyes up to the watchers of her dreams, stretching out her claws with a yawn.

“Did you know? Every soldier they bred, stole, trained, or otherwise acquired was forced to endure all kinds of poisons and drugs.” She laughs slightly. “It shouldn’t be humanly possible, and it isn’t.” She gives a fang-filled grin. “You’re in my head, it shouldn’t come as much of a surprise, the commander in that memory, he altered our DNA bit by bit until we couldn’t really say we were human.” She shrugs. “They spent quite a bit of time perfecting and honing our bodies. You know, they aren’t that different from you two. They, too, were trying to defy their creator by any means necessary. As such, they turned into demons of their own volition, confident that if they could just create the perfect soldier, the perfect machine, they could mass produce them and overthrow the creator.”

“So they bided their time, collecting children of all ages, drilling and imprinting in their minds the instinct and capabilities to fight. They would alter our memories, our emotions, our DNA, all to create an invulnerable army unhindered by emotions or any kind of will. But what they didn’t account for was how the soul would react.”

“Some of us woke up.” Her face hardens. “And when they realized their obedient puppets broke their strings, they sent those still oblivious to eliminate them. Tristan and Hishun are good examples of that.” Tlamotqui sighs. “Others, well, were failures. They had no need for failures. We were given a test, if you will, to hunt these so-called traitors.”

She shakes her head. “You are not the first to try this, and you will not be the last. I will warn you, this isn’t going to play out well for you.”

With her final warning, she launches into the sky. Tlamotqui wasn’t hungry; she did manage to steal the machine’s kill after all, but she certainly isn’t going to dive into the depths for supplies or survivors. Tlamotqui is quite confident in her arsenal, so supplies meant little to her. The potential for a battle is always high; she could imagine an underwater battle with a fierce monster, which is why she is opting to remain in the “calmest” area. Whether she fought or conserved her strength, it did not matter to her.

Lacrima volunteers to guide those who choose to go to the sea to the ship. As they leave the tent, Borra pauses at the entrance of the tent with the deceased. “Oh, and apologies for what I’m about to do, but I cannot have the dead come back to life.” With that, Borra tosses a ball of slime into the tent and then fires a bolt of flame at the ball, putting up a shield around the tent. The slime swells, turning bright red, and then-

Boooooom!

The entire tent bursts into a column of flame, swirling and consuming everything. Borra smiles, “Best watch your step, lest you find yourself being consumed.”

Borra takes to the sky, flying beside the group so no one has her toxin dripping onto them before she can decide what to do with her group. There’s a narrow path embedded into the side of the cliff leading down to the ship. Lacrima flies alongside the path, keeping pace with her guests. All the while, she chats about this and that and laughs in a manner that betrays her nervousness.

“It was so exhilarating getting to be on the ship when it’s about to take off. Your feet start to rumble and then all of a sudden, your face to face with the clouds! Captain Surge really wanted it to…”

Lacrima grows silent as she halts mid-flight to hover in front of the cliff face. Her breath starts to become shallow, and her face turns pale. A massive crater sprawls across the sandy stone, scorched in black with faint crackles of energy. Borra studies the crater with familiarity and a mound of questions. All pertaining to whether or not she can tame or harness the power of the monster and mechs for the pack. It reminds her of her early days before they disfigured her into this ever-producing, ever-oozing, toxic slime. If only I could return the favour…

“...I remember huddling inside the mech when I saw a bright light. The first time it appeared, the ground shook. And then another flash appeared. Everything turned blue and the whole world shook. I knew whatever it was, it hit Jörmungandr and I’ll be honest, I thought I was going to die. I guess the first blast missed and ended up here.” Does she pilot the mech? “Alright, that's enough bad memories for today. C’mon, we’re almost there.” Borra huffs silently. She wanted to know more about this creature.

A lone, battered and wind-worn ship looms over the makeshift docking. Mighty wings flare out from both sides of the vessel and four large thrusters jut out from the stern. This ship could become airborne, Borra realises with glee. Hmm… I’d have to look at the technology behind them… but I might be able to use them… “The Sands of Eon,” huh? What goodies do you have in store for me?

A flash of blue appears by the bow, almost motionless in such a bustling atmosphere. No amount of hats or masks can hide his sharp stare down at the group. He grins, teeth shining like metal, a Nocturne. A large Guardian hauls a crate over, skirting in front of the Nocturne. The dragon dusts her hands and moves off for another.

The Nocturne is gone.

Oh? Borra grins, slightly impressed by this Nocturne already. Don’t disappoint me now. Borra tuts in her mind, landing by the makeshift dock leading up to The Sands of Eon.

A shadow falls over the group and Borra can smell him before hearing him. “Cute bells ya got there. Lil fairy snatch ‘em for ya?” It’s the Nocturne from before and with the way he walks, Borra pegs him as Captain Surge.

He cackles at his own joke, but he suddenly stops. “Or was it that brute?” He spits off to the side. “Pah! He’s got his men crawlin’ all ovah my ship. Can’t walk two steps without trippin’ on somethin’ or anotha! Hmph! It don’t matter at this point. All we gotta focus on is makin’ sure that kaiju ain’t comin’ out just yet, not until we figure out how tah kill it for good.”

With a quick scan of the ship, Borra catches sight of a few intriguing dragons that may hold some information. “Go on then, chat ‘em up. They probably found somethin’ good or whatever.” He turns to head below deck, but pauses before glancing back at the group. “Oh an’ don’t go disturbin’ my crew. You got any questions, you bring ‘em to me.” Captain Surge leaves, beginning to bark orders at his crew. The two scouts by the bow have just flown off, too.

Borra launches herself to the sky, toward the crow’s nest, noticing that the icy Imperial had the same idea. She growls in approval and lands on the top of the railing, eyes fixated on the two dragons.

“Hello there,” Borra rumbles, flashing a mouthful of teeth. “Find anything of use?”