A Choice to Make 2

Tensioned silence wrapped the shop. The Shadowests (a name in reference for the students), the customers, Granny, and Z were looking at the council, unmoving.

“What exactly are you saying, e’?” said Briane, confused.

The council, instead of answering, spreads his palm in circles. Blue streaks of thunder-like light danced in the radius he bordered, an oceanic smoke puffed out of it, wafting the air with such a relaxing fragrance that the tension melted. The thunder-like light revolved and formed what seemed to be a transparent mirror, its frame punctured by a bluish dent every now and then.

“Three days ago,” the council started, an image filming from the mirror. Bluish though it was, it clearly featured George and Z. He’s on the counter, leaning, while she’s seated on a chair, bent and on the verge of tears. “Z Williams had been brought to the Protectors’ Guild for questioning, having breached the Second Imperial Principle. While interrogating the woman, the protectors found another issue, of which results not only to treason, but to an unspeakable crime.”

All eyes landed on Z, its intensity differing. Among all of those, Granny’s was interrogative. She knew she’s itching to ask a question, but, in light of the event, she’s holding herself back.

“I don’t know if anyone notice, but since when had Blame become a Williams?” Michelle said, one of her brows raised. “I don’t mean to intrude, my supremeness, but you seemed to have come in the wrong place.”

Z looked abruptly at Michelle and found herself gasping. If only she’s not in the middle of death and being sentenced to it, she would have screamed. The woman she’s been looking for was already here but that would mean she’s also one of the students trying to take her away. Was that why she’s familiar? Because she really was who they told her to be? If that’d be the case, Granny would be right to say she’d find the answers… with them?

An amused grin curved the council’s chapped lips, but, like before, he didn’t say anything. Twisting his hand in the intangible mirror, he conjured a round button from where a beeping came from. As though a signal, an image-based film played in the mirror in a manner from which what they could only follow was the swish of light. It stopped at the part where the chief-protector asked Z of her name. Hearing her voice in an enchanted mirror was like listening to a distant self, a self apart from who she was today.

“Explain this, Hail.” Michelle turned to Hail, crossed her arms, tapping her heels.

“But clearly, sweetie is sweetie!” Briane locked her arms on his shoulder, owing to a wince from Z. “Look at her innocent and pretty face. Do you think she look like the kind to commit a crime? Well, she did commit one, but it’s only because she doesn’t find me attractive enough.”

“Mr. George, stop with your bullshit!”

“Tsk. Killjoy!” He let go of her and contented himself by imagining Hail’s head on the ground, blood gushing out of the hole on his temple.

“My Supremeness,” Hail addressed the council, his right hand clenched inside the pocket of his hood. “If you look Blame Seirt up, you’ll notice she’s registered in your list—” He stopped to take a breath, trying to stop himself from moaning. His hand was throbbing wildly. There was blood trickling out of the pore on his skin even though there weren’t a sign of wounds.

This always happens every time the barrier he made was destroyed. Whatever he created using his ability, feeds in his energy, interlinked with his whole being; hence, once it’s deflected, destroyed, whatsoever, a part of his body would be affected. It’s one of the reasons why a Shadow Wielder who’s indifferent to training ended up killing themselves.

“I appreciate that, Mister. However, we must follow the protocol.” In an instant, about five protectors marched inside the shop, their armor shining with the glares of the sun. Wielders of any age were starting to peer outside the glass walls, pointing, whispering, speculating.

“The last time the protectors failed to follow the standardized investigation, they’ve been thwarted by no or less the same Wielder who is working to me now. After all, Mr. Williams’s intelligence reserved him a spot in our chair. So bad, he used it in a selfish manner disgraceful in its own.” He gave them one sweeping look before walking away, his cape dancing dangerously at his back.

Z started shaking as the protectors surrounded them, spears of different lengths were pointing directly at their chest, ready to take away their life in case they fight. Instinctively, about four shadows appeared at the summon of the four capable Wielders.

Michelle glared at Z, her eyes seemingly becoming the darkest shade of light, giving Z the creeps. “I can’t believe I’m protecting you… again!” There was a menace in the way she uttered those words that it sounded more as a threat than a reassurance.

“Oh relax, babe!” Briane chuckled, winking at Z.

“We mean no harm,” shouted Hail across the noise and ruckus Granny’s customers were making, their knees still on the ground. “Just let Blame go. I can explain what happened to her myself.”

The protectors merely looked at him. It was the one in the middle who spoke. “Z Williams, we are imploring you to surrender. There is no need for you to be worried. If you are innocent, as these Wielders assumed, we’ll let you go. We persecute only the guilty ones. Whereas, if you let these Wielders fight with you, they’ll be persecuted as the Wielders who defended a possible… rebel.”

“Don’t listen to him, Sweetie.”

Z, heart beating fast, looked at Granny with teary eyes. She knew she’d be persecuted because she knew not of who she truly was. Although these students were more likely to back her up with the notion that she’s someone she knew she wasn’t, there’s still a big possibility that the council would see through those.

For the first time, Granny’s eyes left no reassurance. It, too, already sunk in despair. Those once bright orbs were flickering in a light that’s dying, and she felt her hopes crashing down to pieces. She dared steal a glance at the protectors, past the students, and the Wielders outside trying to know what’s happening inside.

Granny gave her everything she asked for: a shelter, a mother-figure, a Wielder she could confide with. And what exactly did she give in return? More pain. Closing her eyes, deciding it’s better to turn herself in than let the Wielders she loved suffer because of her, she stepped forward.

“What are you doing?”

“Sweetie, the heck?”

“What an idiot!”

“Stay where you are!”

Granny, Briane, Michelle, and Hail spoke at the same time, moving closer to Z.

“It’s okay,” she said, forcing a smile. “I’m—I’m okay.”

“Hey, Sweetie!” Briane forced her to look at him. “You know they’re wrong! It’s bad enough they’re calling you a rebel. You don’t need to think alongside them.”

Looking down, Z swallowed hard, unable to fight her tears. “I don’t know you. We don’t know each other. No one need to suffer because of me. I’m not worth it—”

“Don’t!” said Granny, tears glistening from her eyes. “Please don’t say that!”

“Just pretend you don’t know me.” Without looking at them, she walked toward the protectors. Briane tried stopping her; however, Michelle’s bitchy voice, reverberating past the walls, stopped him.

“Let her. She never did change, her selfishness, her thoughts that everything we’re doing is for her. I shouldn’t have wasted my time looking for a Wielder who doesn’t even need saving.”

Z stopped moving for a moment. Her words felt like some pointed knives, piercing through her flesh. Right. She’s selfish. What else could she be? All she’d been thinking for a whole year was the assumption that she’d been abandoned, that everyone in her past contemplated in making her life a subject of misery.

The protectors drew a chain on her wrists, telling her she made the right choice. For a split second, her eyes found Hail’s. The grayish crystals in his irises were splashed with red and blue, his jaw clenching. She didn’t know if she’s imagining it or not, but she’d seen a shadow lurking in the intensity of his glares.

Wielders peering outside the shop ran toward the nearby shops, pretending to pick something, stealing sneaky glances at the protectors and Z, their eyes widening. Every lane they passed, Wielders were deserting the spot where they’d be exposed. They fear the protectors, but they couldn’t resist a fresh subject for their gossip. The moment the protectors were out of sight, they started moving closer, agreeing, upon their observations, that they knew Z brought nothing but misfortunes and that they’re right for not trying to help her. They felt bad for Granny, though. The Williams were known for their kindness. However, that very same quality seemed to impress a threat.

Passed the candy shops, the Sheenie Shorne Shack, the enchanted library, they went on, ignoring the Wielders hiding from the protectors. Z kept her head on the ground, allowing their cold, metallic hands to drive her onwards. She lost her will to move, as though her soul had been left in Granny’s Café, desiring nothing but staying there for the rest of its already counted life.

Every step she took, she became closer to her death, which seemed to impress to her heart the need to beat as rapidly as it could. It ensured that at its final beat, it played its role, that it did not neglect any of its responsibilities.

It was when they arrived at the seemingly divided gate did something happened. The rocks in the corners started moving, dancing along with a rhythm not a single soul could hear. There were specks of dust sparkling on its surface. As it hovered in the middle part of the twisting alleyway, a mixture of moisturized land and heated clothes wafted the air around them until, rubbing and slithering together, it formed what seemed to be a giant stone. Two seeds were extracted from the sunflowers nearby, piercing through the hole in the upper region of the creature’s overlarge featureless face.

The protectors, keen to deliver Z in the Guild unharmed, pushed her in the corner. She swallowed hard as the creature roared. It felt as if a clenched fist jabbed her eardrums. As the creature lurched for the kill, Z sprinted with the other Wielders who were backing away from the fight. No one even noticed her slipped through them, not caring that a supposed-to-be-prisoner was moving away from the protectors.

Looking over her shoulder, her eyes widened at the sight of chains linking around the giant stone. It tried wrestling its way out of the bindings, but it tightened the more it fought. She thought that was all, but one of the protectors did a backflip, and the chain—heavily connected to his fingers—flexed, causing the monster to roar with pain as it was lifted from the ground, only to crash back on it.

She stalled there for quite some time, along with the others who seemed impressed with the protectors. It was until a sticky hand grabbed her wrist did she started panicking again.

“It’s okay! It’s me,” whispered George, moving closer to her, his eyes drooping in exhaustion. There were stains of blood in his formal coat and as well in his hands. Some strands of his hair, on the other hand, were burnt, ashes still resting from it.

“What happened—ouch!”

George flicked his fingers on her forehead, yawning. “You really are a pain in the ass. I buy you some time and you just stayed there. Unbelievable!”

Wielders started shouting, cheering for the protector’s victory.

“Let’s get out of here before they notice your absence.” Without waiting for a response, he dragged her out of the streets, sneaking from them until they were concealed inside the hole of a derelict building. Z could feel George’s rapid breath, as though he ran for miles.

“Were you the one who created that monster?” she said, deciding it to be a better question than going on with what happened to him, knowing he wouldn’t answer.

Nodding, he slid past the bunk of stones, slumping on it. Z, in her haste to help him, fell sideways, forgetting for a little while the chains on her wrists, her head bumping against a rock. She groaned, massaging the throbbing part. With one of her eyes closed, she glared at George who now resembled a marshmallow melting in the heat. She smiled sadly, tracing the lines on his cheeks.

“What happened to you?”

He grabbed her hands, holding them tightly. His face was crumpling every now and then, groaning. Ignoring the noises overhead, even the protectors’ screams for someone to look for a tall woman, she put her head on his chest, listening to the slow beating of his heart. It sounded so tired, like any minute now, it would stop functioning and just rest… forever.

A tear escaped her eyes. The world just seemed to be so cruel. Why? Why should it take away his George, his only friend, his only ally? For some reason, she felt a part of herself loosened as if a screw just twisted. There was a gong-like sound as a black aura surrounded her body. She couldn’t even notice it as she sobbed on his chest.

The walls of the derelict building then melted slowly, its fragments flying into nothingness, never to be seen again. Now, these pieces were replaced by a thick marble post, emerging from the grasses sprouting out of the ground, bringing small fireflies with it, surrounding Z, mourning along with her. The bunk of stone from where they lay smoothened, straightened, forming a soft foam.

“He can’t be helped,” said a raspy voice, so deep, so emotionless. “His life’s already ebbing away, his soul wounded by his stupidity.”

Z looked up, her vision hazy with tears. A man was leaning on one of the magnificent posts, wearing an obsidian-black shadow, embracing his masculinity. A half-moon mask was covering most of his features, but Z could see through those hollowed orbs, as though seeing through the eyes of death.

“He’s not—he’s not dead!” she shouted, nursing yet another tear. “His heart—his heart is still—still—you’re lying!”

“So naïve.” He shook his head. Folding his arms across his puffed-out chest, he disappeared, leaving dust from where he was, only to appear beside Z, his knees touching the ground.

He moved closer to her until his cold lips touched the tip of her small ears. Z winced but did not withdraw.

“He’s dead because of you,” he was saying. “He overused his ability just to save you from the protectors, just to save you from your mistake. Everything has a limit, Z. Everything has a limit.”

His words crushed through her heart like iron. She knew he’s right. She just couldn’t stomach the fact that someone had to die for her. Burying her face on his chest, she cried silently, feeling sick of herself, aware that the man was looking at her.

“But his heart is still beating. He’s fighting. He wants to survive.”

The masked man raised his hand, its flesh appeared to have some kind of glitch, as it disappeared every second or two. From his open palm, a flower-shaped smoke floated, filming a complete family, laughing together, playing together.

“I know what you dreamed for, know what you desire.” He waved his hand and George’s face stood amidst thousands of people cheering for him, Granny with them, wiping her tears with a checkered towel. “I can make it all come true. I can make it so that your Granny and your George won’t know of your existence, so they won’t be dragged in the mess you’ve made.”

Z found it hard to look away. The picture of that artificial happiness lingered in her vision even after the masked man lowered his hand. It’d be painful to wake up in the morning knowing that the two Wielders she’d depended on had forgotten her existence. The bottomline, though excruciating, would be seeing them happy, going on with their life the way they deserved to live.

“I can revive him, right here right now.” Their eyes locked for a moment, one hopeful, the other persuasive. “But nothing comes for free. You have to do me one favor before I do yours.”

“I’ll do what it takes,” she said even before she could stop herself. “Just—just save him.”

A smirk drew his face. “You’ve made the best choice.”

Her heart sank, feeling her whole body drowning in a choice she normally wouldn't pick.