Post by Nathan Saniti on Dec 27, 2016 20:43:04 GMT -5
The Seeds of Life - Chapter 10 - Finale
Nathan sat atop the peak of grassy hill overlooking the colorful field of bioluminescent oddball flowers his love with Kelli Starr had created in this world, their world, of Balance. He sat, inwardly mourning his relationship lost, not only with his beloved, but possibly with his twin brother as well.
He and Neville had rarely gotten along due to the fact that they had shared a body, until the creation of this world, for an eternity. He had been born a man with two souls. It was maddening at times, only deepening his eccentricity, according to the outside world's view. He'd learned long ago to cast their arguments inward to prevent further consideration from a society that abhorred things that were different.
As he reflected upon the events that brought him here, his mind buzzed busily, trying to fill the void left by his twin's newfound freedom. Kelli was right. He had used his brother's far more aggressive personality as a tool. But she was also wrong. Yes, Neville had been the one responsible for most of the heavy lifting and dirty work. However, it was his finesse that Nathan had used to their advantage. Whenever Nathan had lost control of his emotions, things got messy. That was also when Neville would step in. He could always right the ship.
Nathan wasn't sure Neville would do that now. He had tasted the freedom of having his own body, of not being caged within a vessel he had no control over. He also apparently had Kelli's ear. Intentional or not, his brother had been a factor in Kelli's distance. The other question mark hanging above his head reminded him of his sister Naomi and his longtime friend (and one time nemesis) Grigori Rasputin. Had their loyalties flagged as well?
Nathan swatted the question mark away with a half-hearted, dismissive hand, sighing morosely. The vibrant hues of the field before him seemed to react to his mood, the colors fading a bit before returning to normal. Nathan was too deep inside his own head to even notice the ripple of fading.
"NATHAN!"
A faint cry from the ramshackle abode that strode the line between the dark side and the light caught his attention. He knew the urgency in his sister's voice. He sprung to his feet, nearly spinning around to face the house midair. He peered, shielding his eyes from the glaring sun. Naomi stood, half out of the doorway, waving at him to come over. The distance between them prevented the worry translating from her face, but his gut knew something was amiss.
He sprinted down the hill faster than his legs could carry him. So he carried his legs instead. It was easier this way. He burst into Neville's home as Naomi and Rasputin assisted his brother into a chair. Neville held his neck, yelping in pain. Nathan could scarcely look him in his glaring eyes. He knew his brother's agony was directly his fault. It was time for the charade to end. In all worlds.
Nathan stiffened with determination. Without saying a word, he rushed outside to the garden, plucking fistfuls of herbs, with gracious thanks to their roots, of course. His hands flourished and twisted, weaving the herbs into a neck pillow. He rushed back inside, signaling his cohorts to carefully lift Neville's head.
"Thyme heals all wounds, brother," Nathan remarked as he draped the makeshift pillow around his sibling's neck. They cautiously returned Neville to a resting position. Nathan examined his hands, wiping the remnants of the herbs away with a slight sneer. "Blast. Too much thyme on my hands."
"A sage a magician as you are, brother," began Neville through the pain, "we have a much larger problem to contend with."
"The battle with Alexa Black isn't over yet," growled Rasputin. "But it needs to end. Before you or your brother get killed."
"There's something more," added Naomi. "You and Alexa have a no holds barred, no disqualification match that has to happen off of PCW premises. Showtime decreed that if you two want to kill each other, then you need to do it on your own."
"Not anything surprising," Nathan surmised. "What is the complication that can't be handled?"
Neville waved his hands with excruciating effort. A mirror across from the velvet chair he loved to rest in shimmered into life, not much unlike a television. The Harvesters gazed upon the scene unfolding before them, transfixed.
"Hey camera man come over here I want you to send this to that arcane assclown. He needs to see this and know that he had failed before he has even begun.
"Hello magician. I know you know what this is don't you?"
Her voice makes no attempt to hide the fact that she is gloating about what she has done and what she is going to do. She holds the book up to the camera so it can be seen.
"This is The Grand Grimoire, also known as "The Red Dragon."
They all stood or sat in dumbfounded silence as Neville waved the scene away. Finally, he broke the silence himself. "Some things," he snarked, "just won't stay buried in the past."
"The Red Dragon?" Nathan was incredulous, his awestruck mouth agape in disbelief. "How in BLAZES did she procure that tome?" Slowly rising like the dawning of a dark night, horror overtook his face. If it were possible for Nathan to become more pale, then it happened just then as the severity of the situation shook him to his core.
"She must be stopped, Nathan," insisted Naomi.
"By any means necessary," added Rasputin tersely.
"If she's not stopped, she could bring about the resurrection of the Horsemen of the Apocalypse."
Nathan sat down on a neighboring fainting couch hard enough to make the furniture groan in protest. He was far too distracted to even apologize to the sofa for his roughness. "We're fighting this on too many fronts," he thought. "It's becoming more hopeless the longer I wait to start."
What little color he normally had rushed back into his face as he stood with iron-willed determination. "Very well. It's no longer about finesse. It's no longer about title belts. The outcome of that bauble is now secondary. We can no longer afford to bide our time."
He spun to the window, looking out at the brightly colored landscape before him. "I must do what needs to be done. Even if that means Kelli will never speak to me again." He glanced over his shoulder to his injured sibling. "That may have dire consequences for you, my dear brother. Are you willing to pay the toll if need be?"
Neville painfully agreed that it was the right thing to do. Nathan had a plan. PCW might not like it. Kelli may be forever lost. The generals on both sides of this battleground were about to lock horns. Nothing short of bloodshed would be acceptable. If the Fates, all of them, had it in their graces for them to survive, they would still face another uphill battle. One thing was certain:
2016 had been a very busy year for Death. Come the Icey's, Death may claim one final, very big prize, indeed.
