[Hidden Underground. . .]
"We asked for your blessings, Lady of the Withering Flower. Emulsify us in knowledge. Bathe us in alacrity. Immerse us in Solace. You enlighten us, and so we become the light."
"You enlighten us, and so we become the light."
Hundreds of thousands of people knelt. Hands clasped. Fingers painted. White robes with elegantly embedded flowers adorned.
Despite being deep within the crust of the earth, sunlight broke through. Petals flourished and hung in every corner. Varicolored stalactites lolled gracefully.
Mirielis Adeliz moved through a curtain and feasted her eyes on a prosperous society. Believers moved with purpose. Some worked in small shops and sold necessities. Others helped varnish the underground canyon. And in the highest peak, above all else, lay a mesmerizing chapel.
She removed her previous drab cloak and wore the same white robe as the prostrators. Hers had a unique blue flower across the abdomen. Blossoms expanded around her chest and shoulders and wrapped around each leg.
Her makeup changed. Now: flowery. Pink trailed along her eyebrows. Red blushed her cheeks.
She found a commonfolk sanctuary and asked, "Are praying times still available?"
A man working at a stand replied quaintly, "Certainly! Find your inner peace, follower of Solace! Pray, pray, and pray some more! Laud the Shamanka!"
Mirielis watched people like her floor and utter. They prayed. I must hasten, those Generals of immense beauty are awaiting me!
She invoked, "Lady of the Withering Flower. I ask for your guidance. I ask for your wisdom. Heal my pain. Rejuvenate my body."
Murmurs. Rustles. Sounds of pain and agony reverberated rampantly. Souls of the damned incarnate yelled,
"In-finity. . . . Contrivance. . . is. . . infinity. . . Contrivance. . . is. . . infinity. . ."
Mirielis added after a wince, "Verily, I am aware. While my worship belongs to the Shamanka and her Palmists, the true Almighty is Contrivance."
Her body glowed a faint hue of green. She grinned and said, "Laud the Shamanka."
. . . .
[Maylor Precinct. . .]
"Rejoice, for I have returned!" Alanus and Lluvia heard the familiar voice.
It was the next day, and following an earful from Alvaron Saint regarding Mirielis's abrupt temporary leave, the two Generals were finally going to visit the boy attacked by the Firio.
Yesterday, after Alanus sensed a hint of Tyrant shadowing the woman, he ultimately decided not to pursue further. They needed to find out more about Contrivance—it had priority above all.
If Mirielis could help, they'd take it.
"His name is Emory Vaughan and he lives at 34 Hind Street in North Precinct. The run-in with the Firio was two days ago. His father says he's been getting nightmares for the past two nights." Alanus scanned the paper more. "And they evolved from just sleep to actual hallucinations."
"Emory Vaughan. . . Splendid name," Mirielis echoed. She wore a dull cloak and anomalous makeup. "Let's head there this instant! No time to waste, young lambs."
The trio passed through Maylor Precinct and headed north.
Lluvia meandered and wondered, We'll finally have a clue on what Contrivance is.
. . . .
[North Precinct, 34 Hind Street. . .]
Emory Vaughan sat on the couch, stared through a window, and waited. Waited for the answer to his recurring nightmares. Waited for the answer to the mysterious voice that spoke to him.
Is Simonis alright?
He hadn't seen her since the day the siren rang. The moment he got back, Charles reprimanded him and sent him to a time out. However, all his anger dissipated the moment Emory cried in his sleep.
That was just the beginning. The mysterious voice never truly came back, but its remnants haunted Emory ever since. His dreams consisted of him stuck in a dark realm, surrounded by dying bodies. At least, that's what they looked like at first.
The bodies weren't normal. When Emory first touched one of them, they moved. Spasmed. Then they laughed, cackling without end.
The bodies would all laugh and start running toward him. They gnawed at his limbs and tore them apart. Worst of all, the dreams evolved into hallucinations throughout the day.
Outside, while the sun radiantly sparkled, Emory saw multiple laughing dead bodies.
I just want this to end. Please.
"Emory," Charles called from his bedroom. "Come here please."
The young boy pushed himself off of the couch and jogged to his father's bedroom, dodging the laughing dead on his way. "Yes, Papa."
Inside the beige-walled and flaky-painted room, Emory knocked on the door. "What's wrong?"
Charles settled on the edge of the mattress and beckoned. "The Military will arrive today, are you ready for them?"
Emory bobbed his head. "Yes, Papa. I'm ready for them."
Charles rubbed the boy's head. "Remember, if you feel unsafe during any bit, tell me, and we'll stop it. Your safety is my number one priority. It's above everything else, understand?"
"Yes, Papa."
"I'm glad. Don't forget, Emory, I'm never mad at you. Not when you left the house that day. Not when you didn't want to tell me what happened after. Not ever. I love you, my son. And as you grow, it's harder to be as open with your old man. But, please, don't do something that will harm your wellbeing. Alright?"
"Yes, Papa."
Knock! Knock! Knock!
"They're here."
The two left the room and composed themselves. Beyond the doorway were three adults. One of them, a male, was large and wore a yellow cape. His sun-colored hair parted down the middle, and his oceanic eyes glinted. Emory liked his looks.
The female beside him glanced at the male ever so often. Emory wondered if she had special feelings for the boy. She reminded him of Simonis, except she had nice black hair and a powerful presence.
The final lady wore a black and grey robe and had a mischievous smirk. "Salutations, Emory Vaughan!" Her voice was too loud.
The man took over. "I'm General Alanus Diogenes of the Houtis Land Military. With me is General Lluvia Gallitusio"—he gestured to the clingy lady—"and the Psychologist, Mirielis Adeliz." He pointed at the cloaked woman.
Charles shook his hand. The difference between their auras clear as day. "Charles Vaughan. Thanks for coming so quickly."
The woman named Mirielis wasted no time. She grabbed Emory's hand and pulled him closer. "Let's commence!"
Alanus and Lluvia moved Charles to the side and explained what was going on in a tone that Emory could not hear. Mirielis held onto both his wrists and said, "Of what have your nightmares consisted?"
Emory tilted his head at her strange way of speaking. "Uh. . . I see dead people."
"Dead people?"
"Yeah. And when I touch them, they move. Not like actual dead people. Those guys are supposed to never move, you know. But these ones. . . they get up and start. . . laughing."
"Laughing?!" Mirielis bellowed. "What a fascinating turn of events!" She called Alanus and Lluvia and Charles over. "This young lamb witnesses dead people arise from passing and chortle!"
"Chortling?" Alanus said. "Interesting. Find out more, Mirielis."
Mirielis made an 'okay' sign with her thin fingers and took Emory to a secluded place. "Listen, cute lamb, you're going to fall into a slumber now."
"Slumber?"
"Sleep."
"Okay. . ."
"And when you do, I'll try to figure out more about what the Military is interested in. No need to fret, there won't be any pain associated."
"Alright." Emory readied his body. He lay on his back and closed his eyes.
Mirielis's voice spoke quietly. "Lady of the Wither. Light of the Moon. Ailing healer. Grace me with your power. Allow me to learn more about this boy, this Emory."
It became harder and harder for Emory to stay awake.
"Sleep, little one. Sleep."
And so he fell.
. . . .
Dark.
That was the only thing Emory could describe this realm as. A darkness spanning great distances.
Is this. . . a dream? A lucid dream?
Emory deduced with a clear mind that this wasn't an ordinary dream. There were clear abnormalities.
He was naked. He was cold. He was alone.
His arms stretched wide, trying to find something to latch on to. Nothing. Soreness attached to his bones and muscles. "Hello?"
No one answered.
"Am I really alone?" Gusts of wind pierced his body and caused it to shiver. "Ms. Mirielis Adeliz? Papa?" He started walking around.
Something hit his leg.
"Ah!"
Emory squinted his eyes, wishing for the miracle of clear sight. "What is it? Who is it? Speak, please!"
He grew impatient. When would he wake up?
Flicker!
A spark of light beamed above him and illuminated the next few kilometers. He stood on a sandy plane. Above was a night sky lacking clouds and stars. And the thing he had hit earlier, on closer inspection, was. . .
"A person?!"
Emory analyzed the laying body. Inanimate. Foul stench. Decaying skin.
Oh dear. It was dead.
Unable to resist, he knelt and touched it.
Mush!
Its insides squished with ease. It seemed like his touch ignited something within the corpse. It got up, slowly, and met the boy face to face.
"Heh."
". . ?"
"Heh. Heh."
". . ."
"Hahahahahhaahhahahahahahahaha!"
The corpse guffawed helplessly. It rubbed its stomach and fell flat on its rear. The laughing didn't stop. Instead, it catalyzed. Emory's eyes constricted. His hand shook; every bone in his body telling him to run.
But he could not. The corpse got up, held onto his shoulders, and cackled in ear.
Stop! Let go of me!
Too weak against a grown body, Emory's struggle was pointless.
He was then pushed to the ground. The corpse didn't stop snorting. It slid its disgusting hand up Emory's body and choked his neck.
Oh no, I'm going to die!
Suffocation felt horrible, like all the life in him slowly itching away. Coldness caught up with Emory, and he lay there, no energy left to flail.
Is this how it's going to end? My life?
He did not die. Instead, the corpse was flung meters away by an unknown force. Incapable of keeping up, Emory just managed to lift himself off of the ground.
The flickering light was much more helpful. He looked around, and with sudden movement, the sand around him shook. Emory's frame bobbed uncontrollably, like he was in a pot of boiling water.
That was not all. Craters formed all around him. They changed into a weird shape.
Mouths.
The sand-mouths sneered and erupted in laughter.
It was too preposterous for the young boy to fathom. He fell on his back, laughter ringing in his ear canal.
"I want to die."
". . ."
"Then die, my friend."