Beyond Oblivion Read online

  Where am I?

  She feels like she’s trapped within a metal cube.

  There’s not even a door, she realizes with a start.

  “Feeling trapped, stupid girl?”

  Erana jumps at the voice, slamming against a wall. But no one’s there. Who just spoke? Where did the voice come from?

  “See, it isn’t a matter of where you’re trapped … but how.”

  Erana glances upward at the ceiling. It seems a foot lower than it was just a second ago. She looks at the wall opposite to her. It also seems closer, like it inched toward her when she wasn’t looking. Is the room closing in?

  “Are we not speaking this time?” asks the voice.

  Erana almost forgot she has a voice of her own. “Who are you?”

  “You know who I am.” The voice—wherever it is—gave a tiny chuckle. It was a woman’s voice, deep and resonant. “Time and time again, I’ve told you. Just surrender to me, tell me that you will do my bidding, and I will set you free.”

  “The walls,” murmurs Erana. “The room. Is it … closing in?”

  “The room has been closing in for months, Erana.”

  Erana grabs her head, her fingers catching in her long tangles of dark hair. Who is speaking to her? Shouldn’t she remember exactly how she got into this room, detail for detail? That is her Legacy, after all: remembering everything.

  And yes, she remembers everything.

  She remembers being broken out of her cell by Arcana, the one who can read minds, and almost making it back to the slums with the golden-haired Lifted boy Athan and the shapeshifting boy Sedge. Erana remembers taking a special dagger from Athan and stabbing the control panel of the elevator shaft after Arcana, Sedge, and Athan made their escape to the slums. Erana remembers her sacrifice. I did that to keep them safe. I did that to ensure their escape.

  “Don’t be stubborn. The walls will crush you,” warns the voice. “You are running out of time, stupid girl.”

  Erana glances up at the ceiling. “As it turns out,” murmurs Erana, deadpan, “I seem to feel less inclined to speak to you when all you do is insult me.”

  “You really don’t remember how you got here? Are you sure?”

  Erana scowls at the voice, despite not knowing where it comes from. She places her palms on the wall and starts feeling the edges of the room. She is certain there will be a latch or an imperfection that will give away signs of a door.

  “No? Pity.”

  Despite the voice being particularly condescending and cruel, Erana ignores the woman’s taunts, still quickly searching for a way out, despite her mounting frustration.

  But when she glances behind her, she finds the walls to be even closer. The room really is shrinking. She had doubted the voice, but no longer. It was only a minute ago that she could cross this room in ten generous strides. Now, she can cross it in less than three.

  “It must be so frustrating, not remembering how you got here. Especially considering your Legacy of memory is something that you have, all your life, relied on. It is something that has never, ever betrayed you … until now. Now, you’ve no choice but to obey me.”

  Erana flattens her back to the wall and stares across the room. As long as I watch the walls, they won’t shrink. They never shrink until I turn my back. She stares, breathing deeply, bracing herself against the hard, metal wall, as if physically holding it in place.

  “Is it the room growing smaller, or are you growing bigger …?” asks the voice, a teasing smile to her words. “Could you even tell the difference? Is there a difference?”

  There has to be a door, Erana reasons as her eyes scan the walls of the room. She tries desperately to ignore the panic bubbling up in her chest, which is exasperated by the mocking voice. There was a way in, obviously. So there must be a way out.

  “Well, stupid girl? Are you ready to give up?”

  Erana huffs. “Let me out,” she demands lamely, her tone flat and ever emotionless as it is.

  “There is a way out. There has always been a way out.”

  “Where is it?” Erana asks, glancing up at the ceiling, then to her side, then behind her at the wall, which has inched even closer.

  “The way out … is by surrendering your soul to me.”

  Erana squints her eyes in frustration. “My soul?”

  “I’ve told you that already. I’ve told you who I am, what I want, and why. In fact, I have told you who I am exactly sixteen thousand four-hundred and ninety-seven times.”

  Erana brings a hand to her head, combing her fingers through her hair again as her eyes search the floor, confused.

  “And here I am, revealing myself for the sixteen thousand four-hundred and ninety-eighth time.” The voice gives a little amused chuckle. “Does the name Axel mean anything to you?”

  The name strikes Erana through the chest like a diamond-tipped spear. She knows the name. Arcana’s twin sister, the one who can manipulate minds. “You …” she whispers.

  “Ah, so the memory returns to you.” Another chuckle. “Come, now, stupid girl. That wasn’t so hard. I worried for a moment that you’d … forgotten who I am.” She cackles. “Oh, you are so like my traitor sister, gullible and weak. Just give in and this ends.”

  Erana crouches down and clenches shut her eyes. Why is her memory failing her? Why can’t she remember anything?

  She can write upon minds. “You’ve … made me forget …?”

  “I’ve made you believe that you’ve forgotten. Stupid girl …”

  “Stop calling me that.”

  “I could make you believe you’ve forgotten your own name. Oh, how frustrating that would be …”

  Erana opens her eyes. The room has shrunk even more, the wall opposite of her reachable by just a stretch of her hand. She realizes she can’t even blink or else the room continues to shrink.

  “Have you forgotten that King Impis has been … debilitated?”

  Erana swallows, terrified to blink. “K-King Impis …?”

  “He had a little visit from your friend. Remember Rone?”

  Rone. Rone. Erana’s heart bursts into flame and stills in her chest at the sound of his sweet name. Rone.

  She remembers the months that she, Rone, and Ruena spent together in that half-collapsed house at the edge of the Lifted City. In that house, the three of them made love. In that house, the three of them clung to one another for comfort, for care, for pleasure—and they selfishly ignored the collapse of the world around them at the hands of the Mad King Impis.

  Erana wonders if she fell in love with both Rone and Ruena over those long, lust-filled months. Or was I just a sex-starved, confused girl caught between a beautiful boy and a beautiful girl?

  “Your lovely Rone injected my King with something he called a nightmare serum,” says the voice, Axel. “He explained that due to the serum, a permanent sleep of nightmares would befall my King.”

  Erana’s breaths turn jagged, frightened.

  “It seems only fitting that your reality, my stupid girl, is now nothing but nightmares.” Axel let out a short cackle from wherever her voice comes. Erana keeps her worried eyes open, refusing to blink. “Putting your faith in a fool boy named Rone and a failed non-queen named Ruena. The both of them are gone, now.”

  “Gone?” Erana slaps a hand to her mouth. She hadn’t meant to let out the word—or to sound so frightened.

  “Gone.” Axel seems to be enjoying this too much. “After Rone injected my King with the permanent nightmares, I got right into his brain and made him believe that he could phase right down through the world. Down, down, down.”

  Rone’s Legacy is of passing through objects. His greatest fear is phasing downward and being lost to the planet. “You mean …”

  “Gone. Dropped through the city, through the slums, through the world. Gone, gone, gone.” Axel giggles. “Can you imagine his screams when I let go of his mind as he plummeted halfway to the slums? Can you imagine the fear in his heart?”

  “Oh, no.
No, no, no.” Erana clenches shut her eyes, then at once remembers she can’t, flapping them back open. The room has just shrunk more. It’s now a mere three square feet small. “Rone …”

  “He came here for you. You are the one who sentenced him to that fate. It is your fault he has fallen to the Hells below. The Hells that only Three Sister know of.”

  “Please, no, no, no.”

  “Rone has disabled my dear King. My King is now permanently asleep in a pool of nightmares, never to awake. It was only fair to subject Rone to the same fate, don’t you agree? Wasn’t Rone a stupid and foolish boy, to do such a thing?”

  “N-No. He was brave. He—”

  “And your girl Queen. Your Ruena. Don’t you remember what became of her? Don’t you remember, stupid girl?”

  “Stop it,” Erana demands.

  “It was with a slummer’s sharp. To her own neck. She couldn’t stand the crippling disappointment of what became of her.”

  Erana can’t seem to draw another breath. Her eyes are welling up. She suspects this isn’t the first time she was told this news, and it won’t be the last. I’m forgetting. She’s making me forget, over and over again. She’s trying to destroy my spirit, shatter my mind … “Ruena …”

  “Took her own life,” finishes Axel. “Fool Queen met her fool end at a fool’s sharp to her fool throat.” The tiniest of derisive laughs squeaks out of Axel. It makes Erana’s blood run cold. “Former To-Be-Queen Ruena Netheris is dead.”

  “I don’t believe you.” Erana shakes her head. “Ruena wouldn’t take her own life. She’s much too—”

  “You say that every time I tell you.” Axel laughs again, this time with more malice. “Oh, yes. You’re all alone, you sweet, stupid thing. And you’re running out of time. Don’t you feel the room shrinking?”

  “No more. No. Please.”

  “I can end your pain. All you need to do is surrender your—”

  “I’ll not surrender my soul.” Erana hugs herself, eyes wide open. Her eyes are beginning to sting. She cannot afford to blink again. “I am strong. I will be strong. This …” It occurs to her right then. “This is all in my head. This room. The crushing walls. Your voice.”

  “Just because it is in your mind doesn’t make it any less real. I can make you believe you’ve forgotten how to breathe. Just one tiny suggestion into your mind, and you’ll suffocate. Shall we try it?”

  The walls aren’t real. The room isn’t real. None of this is real. Yet Erana’s heart races with terror. She didn’t know the full power of Axel’s Legacy. She didn’t know what she is truly capable of.

  And then Erana chokes. She clutches at her neck, confused.

  She can’t breathe. Something is wrong. The room has no air. The walls all seem to shimmer, blurring before her unblinking eyes. She is dizzy and terrified and alone.

  Then she remembers to breathe, sucking in a deep lungful of air.

  “Terrifying, isn’t it?” Axel chuckles, delighted.

  “Please,” Erana hears herself beg, gasping for air. “Stop this!”

  “Oh, you can stop this. Quite easily, in fact. Simply surrender your soul to me.”

  Erana squeezes shut her eyes. She decides that if she can’t see the walls, then they cannot shrink. That logic ought to be just as true as the other, especially if all of this really is in her mind.

  “Surrender to me … or else we shall do all of this again. For the sixteen thousand four-hundred and ninety-ninth time.”

  That’s what she meant earlier.

  Erana trembles. “No. Please.”

  “Your mind may forget, but your body does not. Don’t you feel the ache of emotion, each time your heart is ripped from your chest at the sound of Rone dying? At the sound of Ruena dying? With just one tiny suggestion into your stupid mind … you’ll believe that none of this happened. The room will be big again. And you’ll relive the horror of hearing what happened to Ruena and your fool boyfriend Rone, knowing it’s your fault.” Axel laughs. “Your reaction to Rone is always the same, every single time. Oh, how you so love him. He is your world. And he’s dead because of you.”

  “No, he’s not.” Erana refuses to believe any of it.

  “And you say that every single time as well. Only you can end this torture, Erana. Surrender to me. I don’t want to do this for yet another month, but I will if I must. I will and I can. Surrender.”

  “No!”

  “Very well. It all begins again in three … two … one …”

  “Wait! WAIT!”

  Then Erana blinks, confused. She rises off the floor. This isn’t my normal cell, she realizes, turning around to observe it. All the walls are made of big metal bricks, some smooth as glass, some rusted and bumpy. Am I forgetting something? The room has no window. There isn’t even a bed or a place to sit. Where am I?

  She feels like she’s trapped within a metal cube.

  There’s not even a door, she realizes with a start.

  “Are we feeling trapped, stupid girl?”

  The process repeats again, always the same.

  Over and over.

  The same, the same, the same.

  After Axel’s taunts and Erana’s tears, the question is always the same, too: “Will you surrender your soul to me?”

  “No!” bravely cries Erana Sparrow—but perhaps a touch weaker than before.

  “Pity. Prepare to forget it all again in three … two … one …”

  “Wait! WAIT!”

  Then Erana blinks, confused. She observes the room for the first time—again.

  “Rone …” whispers Axel, pulling at the part of Erana’s mind that yearns for the gentle touch of his hand. “Poor Rone … falling, falling, falling. And it’s all your fault. You did that to him.”

  “No, no …” Erana is in tears. She clasps her head.

  “Ruena … a sharp to her own throat, unable to live any longer, too weak of heart to bear seeing the next day. You killed her.”

  “NO!”

  Over and over, Axel repeats the taunts. Over and over, Erana is made to believe that their conversation never happened. “Yes, for the sixteen thousand five-hundred and twenty-third time …” Axel says, never tiring of this game.

  “For the six thousand six-hundred and seventeenth time …”

  “For the six thousand nine-hundred and sixty-fourth time …”

  “For the seven thousandth time …”

  “Please …” Erana pleads, desperate.

  Axel asks the question: “Surrender your soul to me.”

  And for the very first time, Erana hesitates. For once, she does not answer right away. She cannot blink or else the room will shrink even more. I cannot afford to blink.

  “Surrender,” coaxes Axel. “All you need to do is surrender.”

  Erana, her back against one wall, reaches out to touch the other wall in front of her. This is my mental coffin. I could die in here. I’m tired of forgetting. I want to remember. I want to remember …

  “Do you surrender to me, Erana Sparrow, stupid girl?”

  Erana thinks of Rone’s face. Erana thinks of Ruena’s face.

  And then she chokes out one tiny word that she has not uttered before: “Y-Yes.”

  “Oh?” Axel sounds surprised. “Truly? You truly will surrender your soul to me? You will do exactly as I say?”

  “Yes.” Erana Sparrow cannot cry another tear. She feels nothing. She knows nothing. I want to remember … “I will do anything you want. Anything. I surrender. I surrender … to you. Please, Axel …”

  “Truly?”

  “Truly. Completely. I surrender my soul. Take it.”

  Erana blinks.

  Her world transforms at once.

  Now a big room of bright brick meets her wide-opened eyes. Sunlight cuts in from a nearby window, warm as a hearth in winter. The pleasant view and the warm, real sensation is so alien to her after such mental, imagined torment, the beauty of it makes her want to cry. Free, she realizes. The scent of the room.
The light that floods her eyes. The walls that stay in place, just as they should.

  This is the real world. She knows it without a doubt.

  I’m free.

  “There is only one thing you must do, and one thing only.”

  Erana glances up, startled by the crisp, clear voice, her eyes wet. Axel stands over her, clad in her neck-to-ankle white bodysuit that so makes her rich, dark skin glow. A single, long braid of hair hangs behind her like a whip.

  “What one thing?” croaks Erana, trembling.

  Axel smirks. “I need you to be Queen of Atlas.”

  0233 Wick

  The sky opens up. Through the broad stretches of branches and leaves in the trees above him, cold drops of water trickle through like happy tears, seasoning Anwick Lesser’s bare chest and face.

  It’s been a good day, and he deserves a good rest.

  When the cool winds pick up from the coming storm, he fights a shiver and decides to head back to camp. Peeling himself off the soft forest bed of twigs and dirt, Wick makes his way. Storms out here—outside the walls of Atlas, that is—are very different than the ones within. Rain in the city is gritty, dirty, and often blocked by the Lifted City’s greedy arms. Out here, the wind is uninhibited, and the rain is so clean, he could drink it off the trees. Even the raindrops themselves feel free, like tiny watery children let go from their tightly gripping parents’ hands, flying everywhere, unwatched, no control, utterly free. Nature is a force and a feeling and a world that Anwick never thought he would know in such a capacity.

  So many things that a life within Atlas has denied him.

  His bare feet take him down the muddy riverbank of the West River and into the rippling waters. With the storm only now falling on his back, the river isn’t yet dangerous, so he easily wades across the ten meters or so of it. But like all bodies of water, they inevitably flood, and no one wants to be caught here when it floods.

  “Wick, you fool!” comes a voice from ahead.

  Wick is just now climbing out of the water onto the riverbank, his woven shorts wet and glued to his thighs. “Shut your face,” Wick calls back to Dran. “I was just heading back. No need to worry.”