Revolutions: The Pendomus Chronicles, #3

1

Runa

AFTER EVERYTHING WE’VE BEEN THROUGH, it all comes full circle.

I fought hard to escape the reality of the Helix; to become a different person on a different path than they wanted me to be. Who would have thought everything would prepare me for the eminent reality of breaking back into the Crematorium? Yet, here I am.

At least this time, it’s under different circumstances—and with friends by my side.

How are you handling this plan, Runa? Trae asks, placing his hand on my shoulder. I know it’s a little crazy, but—

I shake my head. This is exactly what we needed.

I’m good. We don’t have much time, if Kani is inside. We have to get to her before she’s tortured, exterminated—or converted. Videus needs to be stopped. Putting an end to the Crematorium—or the Vassalage—whatever it is, is the best chance we have at hitting him where it hurts. He’s done all he can to ensure no one even knows he exists. It’s time to make sure it stays that way, I say.

The remainder of the plan goes unspoken, but neither of us are taking it for granted. We know what needs to be done and who has to do it.

With every passing day, it feels as though the memories outside myself are getting stronger. I’m not sure where they come from—Adrian, the bloodlines, the Four Pillars. All I know is my calling—my purpose is getting stronger. More persistent. It’s almost as if I have no control over it any more. Honestly, I’m not sure I mind.

I take a seat on the edge of the large wooden table inside the Archives. We’ve been studying the digital paper schematics we were able to find of the Helix, trying to suss out the best way back in for hours now. The ones Landry had were far too old to provide the level of detail we needed.

Ammon, do you think you’d be able to use your powers on metals? Or are you limited to stone? I ask, turning to him.

Ammon raises his head from the table, groggy and disoriented.

Huh? Did you say something? he asks.

I realize this is a bit much for a young kid like him to handle—even someone as smart as Ammon.

Can you manipulate metal the same way you manipulate rock? I repeat.

Ammon’s small shoulders shrug, Dunno. Never really had a chance to try.

Maybe it’s something worth trying. It would certainly come in handy if you can, I say.

Trae nods, And all that comes second to what Landry’s working on. If we can get the EMP ready, we can shut everything down. It should at least buy us enough time to get inside before the system’s repair can kick in.

Tapping the table beneath me, I nod and bite my lip.

I wish there were better guarantees, but I know we’re well beyond that. We don’t have the time or the resources to launch anything bigger than a small surprise. I hope it’s enough to get Kani back, at the very least, I say.

Runa, I know you don’t think Baxten’s alive—but I think we should still try to look for him when we’re in there, Trae says, rubbing his temple.

Adrian told me he’s too far gone. I have no reason to believe otherwise. I say, shaking my head. Besides, we’ll only have time for one search and rescue.

Accepting this truth has been a hard one, but necessary.

Trae nods, his mouth flattening into a thin line as he sits with my decision.

I know he doesn’t understand, but I’ve tried saving Baxten—and nothing I’ve done has ever led me to his rescue. Even if he is alive, I have a feeling his timeline is tied and can’t be meddled with. For some reason, I understand that now, even if I don’t understand why.

How long do we have before Delaney and her team are ready? I ask.

Trae raises his eyebrows and leans back in his chair, Hopefully soon. But getting everyone on the same page takes time. We might be better off getting into the swing of things and letting them catch up.

That might be a good idea, I say.

I feel agitated, like I need to be in motion soon or my insides will make an escape for the outside.

Guys, we’ve been going over all of this forever. Are we ever going to eat?Ammon asks, eyeing the food pack.

If you’re hungry, help yourself, Ammon, I laugh, forgetting how uncomplicated things are for someone his age.

Ammon may be my twin, but he’s lost years by being pulled from his timeline and brought ahead into mine. He’s also extremely intelligent for his age, but he isn’t able to grasp all the nuances Trae and I have to consider. In some ways, it reminds me of the way I was before I left the Helix. It’s only been a few short months, but it feels like I’ve added years into my life experience.

Ammon digs in, happily engaged with finding his latest snack.

I turn back to Trae. His eyes are on the virtual map, but I can tell his mind is elsewhere. He’s been this way since I came back. I can’t quite put my finger on it, but something isn’t quite right with him. He seems unhappy, discontented—disconnected. Perhaps he’s grieving still. Losing Fenton was a blow to all of us, but I think it was harder on Trae than he allowed himself to feel.

Landry still suffers, too, but his grief is more outward. Easier to understand. Trae seems to have gone in deep, pretending as though nothing has changed. With Kani missing, and feared captured, I’m afraid it’s thrown Trae into a tailspin.

Every time I try to bring it up, he quickly changes the subject. There’s also the headaches. From what I understand, they began after I left. I don’t know what the correlation is, perhaps stress, but he’s not the same Trae I left behind.

The haunted warning of Trae from the future timeline isn’t far from the forefront of my mind, though.

Keep a close eye on me.

That’s what he told me before we were whisked away from him and found ourselves inside a crystalline version of the Tree of Burden. His warning makes sense because the longer I’m around my Trae, the more I worry about him.

Future Trae also warned me not to trust anyone. Kani, and Landry, in specific. For obvious reasons, I haven’t been able to assess Kani, but Landry seems no different than before. He’s as helpful as ever, even though the loss of his brother is still palpable in the bubble around him. He’s been putting together an EMP device to help us shut down the Helix’s computerized system so we can find our way to the Crematorium. With Fenton gone, I don’t know how we’d ever find someone else with the ability to do something like this.

Runa—

I look up, realizing I was as much in my head as Trae has been lately. He watches me closely, concern mapped across his features. The worn expression ages him beyond his years and his brown eyes look so tired. Dark circles cut groves beneath his eyelids and I reach out, touching his cheek with the palm of my hand.

Sorry, I’m here, I say.

His eyebrows pull in, but I don’t remove my hand. Instead, I allow my thumb to caress the place where his dimple usually shines.

Are you okay? he asks.

I smirk, Funny, I was going to ask you the same thing. You look like you need some sleep.

His eyes drop to the table, then flit back up to me.

I—yeah, I haven’t been able to rest much lately. I guess I don’t understand why I didn’t try harder to stop her. Or remember what the hell was happening during all of it.

Kani’s a big girl, Trae. You both made the decision to go to the Helix together. Whatever happened during the lost time isn’t your fault. She’s good at taking care of herself.

Then why are we launching a mission to get her back? he chuckles.

Because she’s our friend. And it just so happens that where she went and where we need to be going coincide, I shrug. Have any more of the memories come back to you from that time?

Trae shakes his head and stands up.

They’re so goddamn fragmented. Like someone took the pieces and smashed them like glass. I catch glimpses and then they’re gone, he says. I remember Kani and I entering the Helix. I remember walking through the long hallways, but that’s it. I don’t remember seeing anything. Getting caught by anyone. I don’t even know why we woulda just walked in like that. Seems reckless.

Could it have been a trap? I ask.

Maybe? I dunno. Nothing else makes sense, does it? Then again, with these damn headaches, nothing is jiving the way it should, he says, pacing the way he does when he gets agitated.

It’s okay, one step at a time, I say, raising a hand and dismissing the conversation. The last thing I need is for his stress levels to rise and the headache to come on full strength. The last one put him out for days and as much as I hate to admit it, we don’t have time for that now.

"Guys, seriously… This has been going on for hours. Can I do something different yet?" Ammon asks, his face full of crumbs.

Any chance you can practice your mojo on some metal stuff? Trae offers, pointing down the hall of the Archives. But practice down there—away from anything important, okay?

Ammon makes a face and catches my eye, Do I have to?

I bite my lip. Truthfully, I don’t think practicing is wise in here. There’s so much history and I’d hate for any of it to be broken.

Why not try small? I suggest. Find an old knife or fork and see if you can bend those the way you can move the stones. If you can, then we at least have something more to go on. If you can’t, well, it seems pretty unlikely then, right? I think I saw some down the hallway, a few meters that way. I point in the direction.

Ammon shrugs, wrinkles his nose at Trae as if he smells bad, and walks off in the direction I pointed.

Cute kid, Trae says. Are you sure you’re related?

I suppress a chuckle. In some weird ways, Ammon reminds me a lot of myself when I was his age. It would have been so amazing to have grown up together the way twins normally would.

I can totally see the resemblance, even if Trae can’t. Granted, he never knew me as a child.

Pretty sure, I say instead.

Trae shakes his head and flicks his eyebrows. Taking a deep breath, he crooks his neck—a sure sign his headache is attempting to return.

Do you need anything? I offer.

His eyes widen, and his body stiffens slightly. He hates that I notice when something’s wrong.

No, erm—I’m good. Thanks, though, he says, running a hand long his neck.

You don’t have to do that, you know, I say.

Do what?

Pretend it doesn’t bother you. Pretend that you’re okay. Whichever. We’ll figure out what’s going on with your headaches, but in the meantime—you can trust me, Trae. I only want you to be okay.

His face hardens, and his irises go darker than normal. It’s like he’s not even the same person sometimes.

You worry about your part of the plan, and let me worry about what’s going on with me. Okay? he says. The words come out harsh, a jagged edge taunting my pulse to pick up speed.

Before reacting—as I normally would have—I hold my breath and wait. I watch his movements. I listen to his breath. Then, something strange begins to happen.

A high pitched mechanical noise enters my perception—almost like the sound of interference on a radio. For a moment, I hold completely still, trying to put a place on where it’s coming from. The sound squeals, fluctuating in and out.

What in the hell are you doing? Trae asks, not even trying to hide his flare up of irritation.

Shhhh— I say, raising a finger and continuing to listen.

Just when I think I have a grasp on what it is, like water through a sieve, it slips away. As I try to hold onto it, Trae takes a step back, surveying our surroundings in an odd way. His eyes are wide, calculating. He doesn’t say anything at all, but for a brief moment he looks disoriented.

Guys—guys, Ammon shouts, bounding towards us. I did it. I can’t believe it, but I did it.

He comes to a halt between the two of us, a fork—or what’s left of it, held high, the tip of it bent backward and kissing the back of his hand.

Trae’s eyes narrow, his lips pressed tight.

Hopping off the table and grabbing Ammon by the elbow, I say, That’s amazing Ammon. Come, you’ll have to tell me more about it. Trae, you’ll stay here and do some more digging right?

I watch his movements, his mannerisms. His eyes kiss the top of the table, but content in surveying the room, Then he nods without saying a word.

Tugging Ammon along, we walk for a distance before he pulls his arm back.

Runa, what’s—

It’s—something’s not right with Trae, I confide. I don’t know what it is, but he’s not…he’s not in his right mind.

Well, he’s been through a lot since you left. I know it’s only been a few weeks for him, or whatever, but he’s lost his best friend, then your other friend, whatsername. Couldn’t that be kinda normal for him now? Ammon asks, a fair reasoning coming from this ten year old.

Yeah, you could be right, I nod. He’s been through so much and maybe I’m just reading more into it than necessary.

I bite my lip, unable to shake this gnawing sensation in the pit of my stomach.

Ammon watches me the way I watched Trae. I feel the weight of his stare, but focus on my intuition until I come to a resolve.

No, I say, shaking my head, that’s not it. I know it should be. I know that makes a certain amount of sense, but it doesn’t feel right. If there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s to trust myself when I feel something is off.

Ammon stands on his tip toes and leans to look over my shoulder.

You know, I think you should go with your gut, he says.

I turn around, following his gaze to where Traeton is. Instead of continuing any kind of research in the books we’d been looking at, Trae stands beside the table with a shovel in his hand. Taking a long swing, he starts whacking the floor. The first reverberation clatters loudly, echoing against all the walls and ceiling.

What is he doing? I mutter.

Digging, by the looks of it, Ammon says.

We need to figure out what the hell is going on with him, I mutter, my head racing. Whatever you do, don’t confide in him. In fact, don’t trust anyone. It’s not wise to involve Trae with the rest. I think we’ll handle this mission together—you and I. Okay?

Ammon nods, Fine by me. Can’t say I overly liked the guy from the get-go anyway. Remember the way he was in the future? Dodgey.

Trae was a little strange, I’ll give him that. Very hermit-like. But he was nothing like this.

Give me a minute. I’ll find a way to distract him so we can make our way to the Helix alone. I don’t think any more digging, research, or preparation is going to help us anymore. The plan hinges on us anyway. What we have—I hope—is the element of surprise. I’d like to keep it that way.

Do you really think you’ll be able to keep him distracted? Ammon asks.

I don’t know, but I have to try. Right? I say. Great work on the fork, by the way. That’s awesome. Now, if only we can get you working on bigger things, we’ll be in good shape and won’t have to resort to Plan B.

Yeah, I was surprised it didn’t take that long. Took a few tries to concentrate on it, though. Manipulating the metal was different from moving rock,

How so? I ask, starting to walk back toward Trae.

Moving stone feels like a piece of me travels to the stone—or maybe through it—to make it shift. With the metal, it was like being outside myself, pushing on it from the outside with an invisible hand or something, he says, his eyes distant as he tries to put the experience into words.

Interesting. Well, keep working on it. When it’s time to go, I’ll signal you. Keep an eye out, okay?

Oh man, is this going to be another one of your covert escapes? Remember last time we had to leave here? Ammon says, rolling his eyes.

I remember. And I don’t know yet how it will play out. Just cut me some slack, would you? I say, eyeing Trae again. I’m doing the best I can.

Ammon flicks his hand, telling me to go and I turn back the way we came. I keep my eyes trained on Traeton, witnessing the efforts he puts in, trying to dig a hole in the floor. This isn’t the first time something has completely short circuited in Trae’s mind. I wish I knew who to ask, who I could trust. With Fenton gone—it feels like no one is truly safe any more.

No, these mental lapses of Trae’s are something I definitely need to figure out on my own.

2

Traeton

IHAVE NO IDEA WHY I am meant to be digging here. It is such a menial task. Could not the young offspring be doing this? My host’s brain is the texture of dried paint, and pieces are beginning to flake away. I am meant to blend in. Keep the status quo. Field the intel. I am unsure how much longer I will be able to fully garnish the cooperation my master seeks.

Thanks, Trae. You can stop digging now, Runa says, a curious smile caressing her face.

Somewhere deep inside me, I feel a strange stirring. It is as though I want to touch her. Or perhaps, be touched by her. A part of me is unsurprised, the other is oddly aroused by the desire. It is disconcerting, and I am unsure what to do with the sensation.

For a moment, we gaze at one another, each being unwilling to be the first to look away. Then she steps closer, taking one of my hands in hers. Radiant energy pulses between us at the place where her skin touches my host’s. It is a strange sensation, yet also oddly welcomed.

A loud, gnawing rip tears at my consciousness, as pieces of my own awareness shift aside for the host. I can’t control it, I know that now. He will eventually push me out yet again. He is strong, this boy. But there is nothing either of us can do about the situation. We are bound now.

The energy from the Daughter of Five builds from the palm of my newly acquired hand and travels up my arm, into my shoulder, then neck. Eventually, it rises like a viscous, warm liquid pooling at the base of my host’s spine where his neck and head connect.

The disorienting disconnect subsides, and the rough texture shifts to one of moldable clay.

I rest for a moment.

Closing my eyes, I cling to the things making sense in my brain. The touch of her hand. The way her energy feels. The way it makes me feel.

Trae, you seem so tired, Runa says. I think maybe you need to rest. Like Ammon said earlier, we’ve been at this for hours. I know things haven’t been easy for you, especially with Kani missing. Why don’t you take some time to get some sleep? We could all get some rest, then head out afterward.

Sleep does sound like a welcome change of pace. But there is something I should be doing—or paying attention to. I just cannot remember what.

Glancing around the room, I do not even know where we are. Or where I would find rest. Should I be this confused?

My gaze rests on the beautiful face of the girl in front of me. Her multicolored eyes and scarred cheek are mesmerizing, though I cannot place why. I could get lost in their depths, though. Her eyebrows pull in, but her face is open.

Runa, that is her name. Runa.

How could I forget?

Come on, I’ll lie down with you, Runa says, smiling softly.

Taking a firm grip on my hand, she leads me away from the tables of maps, away from the shelves full of artifacts and books, and down a narrow hallway ending in a small, circular room. Inside is only one bed large enough for the two of us if we huddle close.

Releasing my hand, she takes a seat and kicks off her boots. She scoots to the side of the bed and pats the space beside her. Everything inside me is screaming to lie down with her—except for the one irritating sensation twisting and writhing around in my temple.

I do not know if— I hear myself begin.

You don’t need to know anything or worry about it, either. This is where we’re both meant to be. You know it, and I know it. After everything that’s happened and the way we were separated, I don’t ever want to be apart. If I have the opportunity to be close to you, I’ll take every chance I’m given. I hope you feel the same, she says, her eyes drawing me to her.

Relinquishing all of my worries, I lie down beside her. As our bodies touch, the energy radiates like a wave rolling across my entire being—wrapping me in a warmth of security and peace. I cannot explain it any other way. She takes one hand, running her fingers through my hair and electrifying the nerve endings in my scalp.

I relax into the overwhelmingly peaceful sensations, and close my eyes. Even if I was not tired, it would be difficult not to fall asleep under these circumstances.

It reminds me of when she held me in the palm of her hands…

Everything in this place is a goddamn maze. Shouldn’t I be the one in control of my own damn mind? Why in the hell does it feel like I’ve lost the reigns completely and someone—or something else has taken command?

My surroundings are a mixture of grey slab stones, and large steel bars. Or is this just a conjuring in my mind? I’m having trouble determining fact from fiction lately.

Whatever, I’ll roll with it. What else is there to do?

The way out is blocked. A door with an interesting mixture of metal and electricity keeps me detained here. I’ve tried to break through a hundred times before—with no such luck. At least, not until whatever holds me captive