She sped up again and plunged into a new attack, with the same result. Will was more amused than alarmed.

  Countless shadows sprouted from the ground, watching the show with an uproar. They were more than Oly had ever seen in one place.

  “What’s next, my child?” Will asked, taunting Hannah’s failure.

  She stepped back a few times and took a long breath. Will peered around, still amused. Hannah opened her mouth wide and screamed a great roar in Will’s direction, flattening him on his back.

  The shadows ceased all movement for a few seconds until Will lifted again.

  “Vone ad!” he exclaimed, extending his right towards the hollow tree.

  Nothing happened. Will’s summons remained unanswered.

  “Vone ad!” Will repeated, a frown replacing his previous amusement.

  Oly was in shock. Will wanted the scroll, but it wasn’t there. It seemed Will didn’t hide the scroll from him—someone else took it!

  Will kept calling.

  “I’m sorry, do you need a break?” Hannah taunted. “Or are you calling for backup? I don’t understand what you’re saying.”

  Will turned his eyes on her; a stare so intense the forest froze. “I don’t need anything to defeat you!”

  He dived forward and used his entire body strength to thrust Hannah in the air, then released her from high in the sky. She landed on the ground, banging her head on a tree trunk on her way down. She didn’t let the setback stop her. Instead, she got up and prepared to roar.

  She blew her chance because, before she cracked her mouth, Will sprang forward and stuck a sharp claw in her abdomen before thrusting her in a tree.

  Hannah collapsed on the ground and paused there.

  Oly scaled up the trunk of a tree and tried to stand. Will had said he can defeat him, but how? He surely couldn’t do anything as human. His umpteenth attempt to turn into a shadow yielded results, until Will realized what he was doing and thrust him on the ground. A sharp pain on the back of his head made him foggy, until Will’s voice brought him back.

  “I am invincible!” the vicious creature shouted triumphantly, laughs following his cry. “I am God!” he screamed again, holding his unnatural fists over his head.

  Will bounced, shouting the same words over and over again until he stopped, with his back against Hannah and Oly, saluting the forest like a king waves to his cloud of subjects.

  Hannah struggled to get up, barely standing. She refused to allow her wounds to stop her. After a few strength-gathering breaths, she got ready to attack. Everyone realized, perhaps except her, that she didn’t stand a chance.

  Then she disappeared.

  Oly glanced back at Will—he didn’t realize she’d vanished.

  One second.

  Perhaps she returned to the human world, Oly thought and tried to do the same. He hit the wall again.

  Two seconds.

  It made no sense; she couldn’t disappear like that. She had to be somewhere.

  Three seconds.

  Hannah appeared again, in the same spot. Wherever she’d been, she used the three seconds wisely. She didn’t seem defeated and almost-dead anymore. On the contrary, determination and confidence replaced the hatred that previously clouded her mind.

  What happened in three seconds to explain this change?

  There was something more intriguing than Hannah’s boost in stamina or her change in attitude. The first thing she did, after she came back, was to smile at Oly. It wasn’t a mean smile, an ugly smirk, or any trace of condescendence. It was a kind, friendly smile, with nothing hidden underneath.

  Then Hannah winked at him, before charging towards Will. Why is she behaving as if we’re old friends?

  He didn’t have time to try to answer this or any other question. Hannah plunged forward, and the entire forest turned silent in an instant. There was no movement in the ground, no laughter. No roars.

  Will circled in time to see Hannah spring in the air with her claws forward. She split his chest in two and dived inside, causing him to fall on his back. Oly’s eyes widened in surprise, as the shadows scurried away in the ground, running away and hiding.

  Will’s chest sutured back as if it had never been split open. No trace of Hannah. She vanished inside of Will, and the monster got back up as if nothing had happened.

  After he glanced at Oly, Will started laughing evilly. The forest rustled again, shadows returning on command.

  “I told you I’m invincible! I told you I am God! Worship me!”

  Mighty roars thundered in the distance. A little too late. The fight was already over, and Will feared nothing. He laughed without pause, twirling on his spot, repeating the same words.

  The roars intensified, announcing that an army of llumens raced closer. The shadows receded and twitched at the noise.

  Oly rose again and struggled to walk, aided by a wood stick. He twisted his brain trying to figure out what the llumen’s plan was, so he could help. Did they even have one or were racing to their own demise, knowing that they had lost?

  Then, in a moment that seemed to extend forever, silence fell throughout the forest. No more roaring. No more laughter. Nothing, not even the river made a sound. The wind stopped blowing. It was as if time itself ended.

  And then, a great roar exploded, very close. Tens of thousands of beings joined in one voice. Oly covered his ears, but it was useless. The earth trembled underneath him, and he lost his balance.

  He fell, in slow motion, and examined everything in sight until he touched the ground. Will seemed surreal—a light was trying to escape his body, from each pore.

  And then, the blast, just as he hit his head. The monster shattered into billions of particles, ricocheting throughout the forest.

  Everything became dark as the pain took over his body. He’s finally dead, Oly thought.

  ● ● ●

  Oly regained consciousness and found he was all alone. The roaring had stopped. Will wasn’t anywhere in sight, nor was Hannah. He tried to get up, but the job was much too difficult for him. He crawled to the first tree and leaned against it for a while. When he thought he was up to the task, he dragged himself to the river. It wasn’t far.

  He hoped he’d find someone there—Adirian or any other llumen, that could shed some light on what happened. Nobody was there. He drank from the water and crawled upwards to the river source.

  It took forever, but he did it. His entire body ached, and he was sure the journey would cost him his life. He didn’t care; it was worth it. On his way up, he prayed. He didn’t know to whom, but he prayed that the strength doesn’t leave him completely, that he would reach the cave.

  He opened the metal door, clenching his teeth, knowing he couldn’t get inside without hurting himself further. He jumped and landed on the bed Benton had lain on before. The bed where he had restrained Benton. A piercing pain caused a scream to rise up his throat. It was impossible to move, but he waited, struggling to breathe until the pain subsided. Not completely. Enough so that he could move again. He was too close to give up now.

  Two bodies lay on the floor, a few meters away. One of them, the hospital guard, already showed signs of decay, causing the heavy smell that bounced off the cave’s stone walls, mixing with the floral perfume that came from the other.

  Her eyes seemed full of life, despite the hole in her chest, a hole partially covered by the blonde, dried, and perfectly straight hair.

  Oly took Amy’s body into his arms and wept. He didn’t know why he disliked this woman, without suspecting she was the one who gave him life. He directed all hostility he mustered towards one person. Little Will. This hostility was both powerful and consuming, but any chance of fulfillment died along with his enemy.

  He cried louder and louder, but the cries didn’t make him feel any better, not inside and certainly not on the outside. He stayed there for a long time, imagining how his life would’ve been if Amy would’ve raised him and if he'd never met Will.

  He had no clue how he ended up with those two evil people who passed him into Will’s hands. It didn’t matter anymore. Nothing mattered.

  He was alone.

  As he was crying, his appearance began resembling the one he mourned. His skin grew paler. His weeping turned into a roar. He couldn’t stop it.

  CHAPTER 30

  Aftermath

  Adirian stood outside the cave, with Yalo and several other llumens. He radiated when he heard the roaring. He understood.

  “Everything turned out perfectly,” he said. “Will died, and the protector will be on our side.”

  “I’m not sure about that,” Yalo protested. “Oly understands who he is now, yes, but he was never the most predictable spirit.”

  “He lived his entire life under Will’s influence,” Adirian argued. “He will come through, I’m positive. And, before he does, the forest will renew because Will is not here to destroy it. His death repaired the balance so we may not even need the protector.”

  “Don't you think you're over-optimistic? It doesn't surprise me—we've been following your plan.”

  Adirian didn’t welcome Yalo’s tone. “Yes, it was my plan, but we all agreed it's our best choice.”

  “Are you sure everybody agreed?” Yalo asked.

  “Certainly,” Adirian said, bewildered. “We all voted—”

  “I wasn’t referring to the llumens. What about the humans affected? Hannah? Amy? Benton? None of them agreed to this. They didn’t know what would happen.”

  “Hannah served her purpose,” Adirian said, softly. He didn’t appreciate casualties, but the survival of his species was at stake. And there was nothing he wouldn’t have done for his people.

  “You’re treating the situation lightly, in my opinion.” Yalo pressed forward, determined to provoke him. “You gave her life. For all intents and purposes, you are her father. And yet, you sacrificed her without a second thought. Will you do the same to Oly, if the situation presents itself?”

  Adirian tapped his foot behind the long robe to hide his annoyance. “I wasn’t her father! She was already alive when Will pulled her here. All I did was breathe a llumen into her. Oly was born as one of us. And he…”

  “Yes?”

  “Oly is different. He is the protector, the real child of the forest.”

  ● ● ●

  Strikeson crashed the doors to the walls and rushed in, with Mooby not far behind.

  “What the hell, man?” the officer at the gate yelled.

  Strikeson didn’t answer; he had no time for explanations. He’d realized they’d been set up halfway to Amy’s residence, when he turned the car around, throwing Mooby in a state of confusion.

  This error made him cuss himself. They had two units patrolling Amy's neighborhood. If something had happened, they would have called him instantly.

  Now, racing down the stairs towards their cells, he portrayed what he considered the worst-case scenario—their cells empty and both Link and Benton gone. What he beheld was far graver, beyond imagination.

  The detainees were in their cells. They seemed to be sleeping but in peculiar postures. Strikeson neared one who stood next to the bars. He was still breathing. And yet, he couldn’t pull him out of the catatonic state, nor did he try hard.

  He sped to the two cells at the end of the hall, the ones that interested him most. Hannah’s cell was empty, and Strikeson almost exploded. He walked further to Benton’s box, even though he expected nothing else.

  Benton was there, on the floor, staring his lifeless eyes against the dull ceiling.

  Hannah lay near him, in an odd position—with her hands above her head and her legs tucked to her chest. Her hair was darker than Strikeson remembered, and her skin was too pale for the short time that passed after her death.

  Strikeson looked at Mooby, who stood far away, lacking the courage to check the cells himself. Strikeson shook his head in response to his inquisitive glare.

  “Dead,” he said. “I’m sorry, partner. They’re both dead.”

  ● ● ●

  Strikeson perched on the chair Dr. Pinny used to sit on when he was working from home and recalled the events of the previous days, the most difficult of his whole life.

  They had transported all inmates to the nearest psychiatric institution because of their state. There, the doctors did their best to treat them. Everyone who consulted—physicians from the entire country—said the same thing. They couldn’t explain what transpired and didn’t have any treatment that worked. They would remain in the same condition for the rest of their lives.

  Strikeson had joined his soon-to-be ex-partner, Mooby, in organizing a funeral for Benton and Link. It had been a small ceremony, where only he, the priest, Mooby, and his wife attended. The lack of people didn’t bother him. On the contrary, it was best to avoid discussions, even though it had been a closed-casket funeral, so that nobody, not even the priest, could’ve seen how their corpses changed after passing.

  Strikeson shivered when he remembered. A day after death, Benton had turned fully blonde and pale. Hannah Link had shifted into a black-haired woman. But what would forever stay in Strikeson’s mind were the red circles around her eyes and the strange, distorted shape of her black lips. He didn’t dare check if her eye color had changed too—he was sure it did.

  At one time, he believed he’d spotted a person hiding behind a tree during the burial. A tall figure. When he’d peered closer, that person had disappeared.

  Strikeson knew he would never revive his career. The only reason he still had his job was his previous accomplishments. Strangely, his career didn’t matter anymore. Nothing stayed the same, not even him.

  He'd spent every waking minute thinking about the case. He'd made a terrible blunder when he decided Hannah Link was Amy's killer before having all the facts. Therefore, he re-checked everything related to the case. He wondered if Pinny had died of natural causes, as the new medical examiner kept trying to convince him.

  This thought drove him to Pinny’s apartment. He craved information. He'd discovered that Pinny had returned home the night he died, and came to see if he left any evidence there.

  Strikeson’s main line of investigation was Oly Mellon. The big chiefs ordered him to forget this case, but he had no intention of obeying. Oly was the key to the case. He’d toured the holding cells the night Benton and Link had died. The officer on duty created a sketch he matched to Oly’s smug face. He’d seen Mellon go in, but he never saw him come out. The cameras didn’t register him leaving either.

  Every other cop dropped the case immediately. They were too scared to continue, but Strikeson had nothing to lose. With this thought, he rummaged through every desk and drawer.

  It didn’t take him long to find a memory card, labeled A. Montgomery.

  He took the memory card to one of the few friends he still had. Perhaps 'friends' wasn’t the right word. He didn’t have real friends. The individual, named Stone, had been working part-time as a crime scene investigator, whenever the department’s workload increased. He was ten times more competent than all the others combined.

  “I need you to look at something,” Strikeson said, instead of an intro.

  “Really? And this couldn’t wait till daybreak?” a drowsy Stone responded.

  Strikeson glanced at his watch—it was 3 a.m. “Sorry, I didn’t realize what time it is.”

  Stone helped nonetheless, fascinated by Strikeson’s haste. Instinct hadn’t left Strikeson. The memory card included loads of photos taken by Pinny on the night of his demise. Even though Dr. Pinny had been meticulous and thorough, the photos were chaotic, as though an amateur had taken them, a novice who didn’t know how to use his camera fitly. The photos contained more details than were needed.

  Strikeson examined each photo, driving Stone mad. He didn’t want to repeat the mistake of rushing through things.

  “Can you expand this part?” Strikeson asked, pointing to a tiny portion of the screen.

  Many images included the small street in the background and, on the road, a van. Not much of it was visible, but in this photo, which revealed a blurry driver.

  Stone started typing, fast, enlarging the image, sharpening it, and completing other enhancing tasks. The resulting photo was clear, stretching on the entire thirty-two-inch screen.

  Strikeson froze. The profile that looked right into the camera from the driver’s seat was Oly Mellon’s. I will catch you even if it’s the last thing I do, Strikeson whispered in his mind, without considering that Oly couldn’t hear him.

  “Move forward,” he requested.

  Stone complied. The number of photos they had yet to study was small, and they discovered nothing unusual.

  “Well, then. Thanks for your help,” Strikeson mouthed, getting ready to leave. A sheet of paper on Stone’s desk caught his attention. “What is this?”

  “A friend asked me to try to figure out what it is. It doesn’t matter now, I guess.”

  “Oh? Why not?” Strikeson seized the paper—it was the sketch of a disk-like device of sorts.

  “Because my friend is dead.” Stone’s tone betrayed his grief. “He was in your jail when he died. You must know—”

  “Ace Benton?”

  “That’s him.”

  “Do you know what he wanted with this?”

  Stone grinned. “No, but I think I figured out what it is.”

  “And you’re waiting for me to beg before you tell me?”

  “It was only for Ace’s eyes, but… I suppose I could tell you under these circumstances. It’s a time machine.”

  Strikeson tossed the paper back on the desk. “I don’t appreciate being ridiculed.”

  “But I’m serious! I don’t know if it’s a real time machine, but I found some chatter on the dark web about this type of thing. As far as I can tell, nobody knows how to use it.”

  Strikeson inspected the paper once more. He could’ve used a time machine.

  ● ● ●

  Oly stooped on the refreshing stone floor, watching Amy. It was how he spent most of his time. He had no incentive to go anywhere else; nothing interested him.

 

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