ABSOLUTION

Chapter three

Chapter Three

FEVER

Who am I?

As a clone, do I have an identity? Is this why I chose to let my disease have its way with me? Did I become the Dark Queen, because I didn’t want to be anything like my Prime? Because I wanted to shape my own destiny, to own something of myself without the burden of being the slave of a prophecy? These are thoughts I have to contend with when the open moments allow me the opportunity to think for myself. I am ruled by emotions neither my Prime, nor I, have ever had the chance to understand. It’s easy to manipulate emotions and make them work for you. My blood-shift is noosed by emotion, it is what brings it forth; rage, anger and guilt. These things… I know what they do to me, but they are unstoppable beasts that cannot be controlled. Hurt, regret, disappointment and sorrow smother my thoughts. Panic and fear cripple me.

The Council had my Prime so emotionally conditioned that they could manipulate her feelings, test, and observe their reaction. And then she did the unexpected; withstood all they could throw at her. The result? She lost all control. What saved her was love.

Love?

I have not felt its adoring afflictions. Sympathy―makes me weak. But to truly feel for myself? I am afraid of its distraction.

Pages from my diary ~ Eva

~X~

As he turns to help Farrow to her feet, I stare at my reflection in the puddles below, fractions of me shimmer in the dull light. Some I recognize, other angles seem strange and unknown to me. But it’s what I see above me that is startling.

An arrow flies overhead.

“Get down!” I shout, and lunge at them, knocking them both to the ground.

The howl of the wind over and through the jagged, concrete structures conceals the whistle of the arrows. But not for someone like me; a clone, a machine, a device that was built to detect threats. A few hit the ground before us with loud clanks. There is a moment of stillness, which I use to gather my thoughts. Jumping up, I face the arrows head on and pull up my shield. There are no more thoughts, it just is, and like a wall it suddenly appears in front of me. A glowing, growing, glass wall of amethyst so bright it illuminates the shadows beyond the forest in a brilliant purple light. A line of Minoan villagers and warriors make their way forward and release a barrage of arrows upon us. I am totally confident my shield will protect us, until Farrow points out the dark smoke eating away at the edges of my shield. I scream for them to run as my near-shift devours the shield completely. I am of two sides, forever in twilight, cursed like planet Noxia where the Dark Queens reside. My shield is of light, my shift of dark, and together it is absolute pandemonium. It’s my Shadowed blood telling me to choose a side, that there is no balance between the dark and the light.

The arrows look like a rainbow of black insects, swarming in a huge, thick, shimmering arc overhead. Blue and purple feathers sparkle in the fractions of remaining sunlight as they come raining down. I hold the shield for as long as I can until the last of it burns away. Arrows shower down around me; one impales my leg as I take off after Troy and Farrow. Farrow yells and falls. Troy bends to pick her up, but is struck by an arrow to his foot and then another. The fury for his safety inside me is fast and brutal. Although I can’t feel the pain, the danger is imminent. An arrow to my heart will cripple me instantly, I am sure. The anger spikes, the blood-shift ripples the very air around me. Sounds come in like white noise, and then sharp bursts of moans and battle cries.

Before the pulse releases, Troy yells for me to stop. “Please, don’t hurt them!”

Through the chaos of the brewing wind, a few more arrows land before me. I don’t understand. I stare at the tip of the arrow lying by my feet―the blue glow of enchanted metal fades, clearly indicating their intention to destroy me. And he asks me to leave our enemies unharmed? It is then that it strikes me. Troy will die because of my kind, at the hands of the very people who brought the prophecy to light. They are willing to sacrifice Troy―the holder of the prophecy―just to get rid of me and Farrow. It’s a strange concept, but what I cannot contend with is that Troy is aware of this. When I look up, he is holding Farrow by her arm as she struggles to balance herself on her wounded leg; an arrow juts out from her left hip. I search his eyes for some kind of reason as to why he would give up. Troy never gives up. But as both I, and my Prime, have discovered―the hard way―it is difficult to understand his ways, especially when he doesn’t want you to.