Obsidian Sky
Copyright © 2014
by Julius St. Clair
All rights reserved. This story or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, objects and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales are coincidental and should not be taken seriously.
Chapter 1 – The Day the World Ended
Chapter 7 – I Heard You the First Time
Chapter 10 – What’s Eating You?
Chapter 19 – The Best There Is
Chapter 22 – Unfinished Business
Chapter 1 – The Day the World Ended
The one-room schoolhouse was painfully tiny, and even more so now that nearly half of the village of Lowsunn was beginning to crowd in, each individual clamoring for a coveted seat on one of the few oak pews in the center. Consequently, anyone that was late was forced to stand upon their aching feet. The stampede of villagers kicked up a cloud of dust that eventually settled on the floorboards, which creaked under the collective weight. Though there were nearly two hundred villagers in attendance, no one said a word, the only sound being the groaning of the structure itself.
All of the extra desks and chairs had been removed. All unnecessary equipment had been locked away, and even the Elders of Lowsunn were surprised to see just how many students were able to fit into the boxy room. Within minutes, the only part of the floor not occupied by a pair of weary shoes was a meager five foot square space in the front. There the science/history teacher stood with a maniacal smile, causing a few of his colleagues nearby to wince in disgust. Not one member of the excited audience, young or old, cared for teacher politics, and so they did their best to ignore the exchange. And really, it didn’t matter how much the other teachers hated Mr. Young. Nothing short of a fire was going to make them disperse. For the only time in the entire year, he had the spotlight, he had the goods, and everyone in attendance was there to make sure they were expediently delivered.
Mr. Young surveyed his audience with glee, rubbing his sweaty hands onto his custom red silk shirt as he silently hoped the ancient pews, brought in by his teacher aides, would be able to bear the weight. As the last of the villagers, a few of the elderly, squeezed in just beyond the double doors in the back, he cleared his throat and surveyed the room. They all waited for him to begin, giving their undivided attention and awe. Since the building only had six windows, three on each side, there was already little light in the room. Faceless bodies now blocked the meager sunlight that fought to enter, and the room was soon cast under a cloak of unsettling shadow. As unidentifiable eyes blinked off rapidly in Mr. Young’s direction, he closed his in satisfaction.
He concentrated.
And then beams of light shot through each of the windows, through the barrier of bodies, and into the room like a flood of water, filling every space in a matter of seconds. After it had maximized its presence in the room, most of it suddenly disappeared, and all that remained was a spotlight over Mr. Young, the source appearing to come from the windowless and moldy flat ceiling above. It was impossible for light to originate from that point, yet it did. The audience gasped in delight. Many had seen this presentation several times, but the moment never ceased to amaze. How Mr. Young was able to call forth the sun to magnify him, even through the solid blockades of both body and object, was a subject of much debate. It had to be magic.
He cleared his throat once more, and a blanket of silence descended upon the audience.
“Ten years ago,” he began. “The Advent came.”
As his sentence ended, both the room and Mr. Young were suddenly cast into utter darkness. The bare wall behind the history teacher came alive, and an animated display of the universe came into view. It spread across the room like an oceanic wave, lapping against the shore, except it never retracted once it splashed against the other side. It trapped the audience in its holographic projection and held them there. Stars twinkled like diamonds, moons orbited around foreign planets and colorful nebulas shot out at the students in 3-D fashion. The audience gasped and awed at the spectacle as space danced around them gracefully, performing a waltz that even the best of them could not imitate. Mr. Young continued.
“We call it Advent because the definition says it all: it was the beginning of something already anticipated…it was the end of the world. We all knew the day would come. We just weren’t sure how. Ten years ago, we received our answer.” The audience gasped in horror.
Mr. Young grinned and scanned the room once more before he proceeded, watching them all witness his power, each one falling under his spell…well, there was one who was uninterested, but there was good reason for that, he supposed.
“Aidan, pay attention,” Mr. Young called out to the young man in the far left corner. Only his short spiked black hair and half of his bored eyes were visible amongst the sea of silhouetted faces and little lighting.
“Sure,” Aidan replied easily, refocusing his attention on the holographic stars. Satisfied, Mr. Young resumed his presentation. The animation of the universe changed in an instant, and zoomed in on a planet that was familiar to everyone. Amassed by a collection of six large continents and very few bodies of water, they stared at their brown, green and red planet as if it were an old acquaintance. At the other end of the universal map was a comet, half their world’s size, streaking across the black expanse with a red-hot tail, its trajectory directly in line with their home world.
“We don’t know where it came from,” Mr. Young said, stooping down behind their planet. “Or its exact composition. Whether it was a hunk of rock, a ship, or a massive, sentient being. All we know for sure…is how it changed our way of life forever.”
The display flickered and suddenly the comet smashed mercilessly into the side of the planet, creating an explosion that splashed the room in a light so intense, everyone, including Mr. Young, had to avert their eyes for fear of going blind. He kept speaking as the light began to subside.
“The comet impacted the eastern hemisphere with a force that could be heard and felt all over the world, changing the terrain and taking half of our population with it. Millions…died instantly…” He paused to wipe a hand across his sweating forehead. “We all thought it was the end – the apocalypse, and in a sense, one could say that it was. That era had been eradicated in an instant…but it appeared that the survivors were destined for a greater purpose. The World of Obsidian had been altered, not just physically, but also spiritually. The population that had not been annihilated were transformed.”
The universe display vanished and the room was cast back into its natural dim light for a moment. It then dimmed into a purple hue. White hot tattoos were revealed from underneath the villagers’ long sleeve shirts. Branded deep into their right forearms, each tattoo depicted a picture of six organ pipes with a long sword in the middle. Most of the villagers had only one tattoo of the image on their right arm, some had two of the same picture, and even fewer had three.
Aidan pushed his sleeve down further though it made no difference. Even through the fabric, the tattoo burned bright as if it had just been seared into his flesh, as if he had been branded with the signature of the sun.
“Everyone was marked with these seals,” Mr. Young said, one of his own shining beneath the silk of his shirt. “Most were only given one, but others were blessed with two or even three. Each seal…granted the bearer a wish. A wish with no strings attached whatsoever, as long as the Judge approved it. It’s the only reason we were able to rebuild society so quickly…no one regrets being given these gifts, but we must still never forget the lives that were lost. These wishes came at a price, and that makes each of them a beautiful, wonderful curse.”
He paused as the room reposed in silence. The purple hue was lifted and the lighting returned to normal. The seals on their right arms faded until they were no longer visible from underneath the fabric of their clothes. Aidan sighed wearily as Mr. Young bowed his head.
“I perform this presentation once a year to not only remind you of what happened, but more importantly, to stress how much we need you here in Lowsunn. I know there’s a temptation to use your wishes for your own pleasure, but we ask you to suppress those selfish inclinations. In order to continue restoring our world to its former glory, we hope that all of you will stay patient until it is your time.”
Most nodded at his words. A hand shot up from the left hand corner. Mr. Young took a deep breath and pointed at his young pupil.
“Yes, Isaac? You have a question?”
“How long do you think it will be until the world is restored completely?”
“It’s hard to say,” Mr. Young admitted. “Significant damage was done to our way of life. Many wishes were used in the beginning of the 2
nd
Era to restore the atmosphere, the wildlife and what not.”
“Yet no one has wished for the half of the world that was destroyed to go back to its previous state, or to bring back the countless lives that –”
“We’ve had this discussion before in class,” the middle-aged teacher sighed. “As I’ve explained, we don’t know what happened on that day.”
“So it’s best to leave a hole in our planet?”
“A contained, harmless hole. It’s been handled.”
“There’s no way you could know that.”
“That is the point of our scouting missions, or have you forgotten?”
“Someone from Lowsunn has been there? At the edge of the planet?”
“That will be enough questions from you,” Mr. Young snapped, his eyes darting amongst the other faces for their reactions. Though they appeared squeamish, they kept their focus on him. Isaac raised his hand again.
“I said no more questions.”
“I don’t have one.”
“Then what is it?”
Isaac smiled through his blue eyes and ice-breaking smile. “Aidan has one.”
“Can’t Aidan speak for himself?”
“He said you wouldn’t call on him if he raised his hand.”
The audience chuckled and a few of the Elders in the far back began shushing. From the crippling glares they unleashed on Mr. Young afterwards, it was obvious that they were going to intervene if he didn’t take control soon. Why he had called on the child in the first place was beyond their comprehension.
“Okay,” Mr. Young said with a scowl, pointing to the young man with the spiky black hair. “Fire away.” It was a risky move, allowing Aidan to speak – but if he was able to maintain order during their exchange, he would have gained respect in the eyes of the Elders. A privilege that few possessed.
“Well, I was thinking,” Aidan began with a sly smile. Many in the audience turned around to watch him complete his sentence. “If we’re supposed to hold off on our Yen –”
“– in my classroom, you will refer to them as wishes, Mr. Serafino.”
“I don’t understand why. The rest of the world calls them Yen, but that’s not what my question is about. What I want to know is why we don’t get to use these ‘beautiful curses’ the way we want to, while the Elders and even you - gets to go wild.”
“I don’t follow.”
“Take this schoolhouse for example. You used a Yen three years ago to turn it into this major interactive experience, and yet you’re the only one who knows how to control it. It’s impressive, but isn’t it a waste? All it does is help you.”
“It enhances the learning experience and improves the quality of my lessons.”
“Which are still boring, which is why your attendance is low. The only time anyone comes to your sessions is to hear about Advent, otherwise, no one bothers. I’m sure you’ve noticed.”
“I don’t need to justify myself to you,” Mr. Young huffed, feeling the angry, raised eyebrows of his superiors. “Who are you here with anyways? Does your mentor know where you’re at?”
“Does it matter?” Aidan said. “What you fail to remember is that we are free to choose which courses to attend. This isn’t a school. It’s a simple, scared little town that keeps people in line by dangling small comforts over their head. It does little to prepare us for the outside world. A world that each of us will be forced to encounter whether we like it or not. If it wasn’t for the strike system, no one would even bother getting out of bed.”
“Once you choose a class to attend, however, you are stuck there,” Mr. Young’s face started to redden. “If you’re skipping an evening class to attend this presentation, then you know that I must hand you over for disciplinary action. Given that you already have two strikes against you, you know what that would mean, don’t you?”
“I don’t need to think about it,” Aidan said, his lips in a flat line. “Especially since I’ll be leaving.” He began to worm his way to the door when a shout nearly stopped him cold.
“You stay right there!” Mr. Young barked as the few Elders standing in the doorway made sure to form a trembling humin barrier. They looked down at him in disgust but Aidan challenged them silently, one at a time, with no expression on his face. Then he shifted his gaze back to the forefront and gave the science/history teacher a declaration.
“Let me out right now or I’ll burn the entire schoolhouse to the ground.”
He said it with such conviction that Mr. Young nearly fell over in shock. The Elders in the doorway stepped out of his path urgently as the villagers pressed up against each other, sacrificing their comfortable positions to let him step out of the room freely. They dared not even touch his hooded robe. Aidan stopped in the doorway just for a moment, to address the room one last time.
“Keep the Discipline Squad out of my hair for this, and I’ll ensure you all keep yours.”
He didn’t wait for a reply, leaving as fast as he could, and the room burst into scared whispers and murmurs of concern. Isaac sucked his teeth and chased after him, nearly tripping three times before he hit the door and the dense warm air outside. He caught up to Aidan quickly and joined his stride under the canopy of low hanging tree branches and a thick silver haze. The village of Lowsunn was tranquil and actually pleasant now that most of its inhabitants were being held hostage at the presentation. He didn’t care to see the rest – about how chaotic the world had become, how it had been relatively organized before Advent, blah, blah, blah.