Chapter 46 Torn Apart
The Torn, prowling like nightmares amidst the shadows, suddenly paused as they felt an approaching telepath. The three of them linked deeper, despite the pain, and with an evil hiss that echoed unnaturally through the woods, they prepared to do battle. They were not afraid. There was no telepath on earth they feared.
"Hello, Hunters." Jacob said mildly, his telepathic voice calm and solid, as if he weren't just touching minds with madness itself.
The Torn darted into a circle, blood flying from their bodies to splatter on the leaves, and wherever it landed, the leaves began to turn gray and crumble. As if something were sucking the very essence of them into never ending darkness.
The Torn twisted and weaved, so fast it looked like a single motion, working in perfect harmony, until all of their limbs, their bloody skin strips, and their powers, were concentrated and woven into one.
They were a grotesque circle of arms and legs on the ground, like a twelve legged spider with six heads facing out in every direction.
"You are incomplete. You are our Weaver, our Ender. Where is our Healer?" The Torn whisper-sent, their combined telepathic voice carried on the writhing winds of insanity.
Jacob anchored his mind within every intense memory he and the girls had, holding tight against the storm battering at his very core. The Torn were not attacking. Just speaking telepathically with them would be enough to flay apart the mind of just about anyone. He doubted he could bear to speak telepathically with them if it weren't for the strength he was borrowing from Raina and Carmen.
"We don't understand. Show us these three you seek." He sent back, once he could bring his thoughts into some semblance of control.
It was perhaps not the best question to ask, as immediately the Torn sent a flood, a consuming torrent, a tidal wave of images entwined with emotion and sensation, to both him and the girls. This time, he used his focus to hold the girls tight to his mind, relying on his own seemingly limitless depths of power, for only the second time in his life daring to reach into that seething well and pull it into his mind.
His walls held, blocking the flood. But now he found himself more curious than ever. He had managed to catch some glimpses during that flood. Momentary images of Carmen, Mirage, and Callin.
"Walls. We show, you block?" The Torn sent, their mental voices somehow seeming to hiss, even though there was no sound when speaking telepathically. Their displeasure was beyond frightening.
"We cannot bear the full force of your minds. Can you filter your thoughts, perhaps?" Jacob quickly sent back, sending the Torn a mental image of the damage their mental voices was capable of.
The Torn shifted slightly as they heard the remaining Flayers suddenly howl in demented harmony, a demonic sound filled with feral victory. The Torn could see Callin in the center of their circle, on his knees, unmoving.
"Fragile. Interesting. Use walls now. Flayers led us here to our Ending, now we Unravel them." The Torn said.
He barely had time to grab the girl's minds and his own and bury them within the sea of his power before the world went black. It was like being surrounded by weaving, waving bands of blackness. Bands that destroyed whatever they touched. They darted around him, deflected by his shield, but etching into it all the same. And even surrounded by Chaos, even surrounded by his shield, Jacob and the girls felt the Flayers begin to scream.
It was over almost as soon as it began. Silence descended suddenly, so unexpected that it felt like a physical blow. Jacob and girls separated, back into their own bodies, opening their eyes in sick anticipation. They didn't know what to expect, but they all felt as if they were about to witness the end of all things and the beginning of infinity.
Instead they found themselves staring at the Torn surrounding Callin, gently pulling a massive spear from his chest, using their skin strips as hands to pull and to cover the wound. They seemed to be moving in anxious, darting movements, yet were exceedingly gentle with Callin.
Jacob blinked, not comprehending, the disconnect too great between these insanely angry, hate-filled creatures, and their desperate attempts to help a wounded Callin.
"Bring the Weaver-Ender! Our Healer is Leaving, our Healer is entering the Never!" The Torn whisper-shrieked, their combined vocal voices were panicked, so loud, so ragged , that it nearly dropped everybody within earshot to their knees.
Raina and Carmen were on their feet and sprinting forward almost before they processed the words of the Torn, both of them able to sense Callin slipping away. They moved like lightning, subconsciously reaching back to borrow power from Jacob, who let them link freely.
He sensed he was not going to be much help here, so he did what he could. Part of his mind winced in recognition of the damage the girls were inflicting on their bodies by letting his power yank them forward so violently. They most likely wouldn't be able to walk for the next week after this.
Carmen found herself operating purely on instinct, her own logical mind so confused, so lost, that she gave up on it. She threw herself into a double front flip, effortlessly soaring over the Torn, landing in a cat-like crouch next to Callin. He was on his back, and blood was everywhere.
She could see his bone armor slowly sinking back into his skin, moving sluggishly, like cold syrup. She could see the huge hole in the center of his chest, could see his life force leaking out. He was dying. That realization struck her with terror unlike any she had ever known, sending her into unknown paths of power inside her mind.
She didn't know how to fix this, didn't know how to help him, yet she was going to try. She was going to tie herself to him fully, she was going to blend her powers, her life force itself, with him, and demand he heal.
"Let me help. I can guide you." Raina's mental voice was quiet, calm.
A pillar amidst the churning turmoil inside Carmen. Raina was her true friend, like a sister to her, there to lend her support when it was most needed. Here, amidst this most terrifying moment, she allowed herself to trust. She let her mind and Raina's entwine, then threw her power into Callin, seeking desperately for his mind amidst the creeping, swirling darkness she felt in him.
Carmen and Raina were bonded, yet Raina was still quiet, allowing Carmen to do what she would. Carmen found herself casting about in the strange, murky half-dark, half-light of a dying mind. It was an infinite field of gray, stretching out forever in all directions, so lonely and hollow that Carmen was almost stunned into senselessness. What was this? It was like Callin had given up, like he was allowing himself to die!
That thought made Carmen furious, and she threw her mental arms to the uncaring gray sky inside his mind and blasted her power outwards, in every direction, casting a web out as far as she could. Searching for any portion of Callin that she could find. Searching it out and pulling it back to her.
Her powers latched onto memories and emotions and wove them together, re-stitching the scattered elements of Callin and pulling them to her. And his memories grew, a tower, a construct beyond the edges of comprehension, and then they pulled her in.
The medical room was a nightmare space. It was intensely bright, harsh lights gleaming off of sterile stainless steel and stark white surfaces everywhere. The walls, the floor, the ceiling, were all bitter cold. They pulled at the body heat like an invisible vampire with fangs of ice, always dragging at life itself. The vicious temperature of the room, the harshness of its lack of colors and its glaring lights, all paled in comparison to the sounds that filled the room.
Rhythmic beeping from heartless machines set up an undertone of callousness, and weaving throughout that structured, yet horrid sound was the sound of a suction machine lapping eagerly at human blood. It was all static and whistling, broken up by abrupt stops as the tube sucked against flesh and sealed shut momentarily. And joining into this symphony of horror was the nearly inhuman, agony-soaked sobs of a young boy.
The surgeons moved much faster, and with much less precision than their art would normally involve. Blood spattered their white coats as they hacked at the flesh, and sweat beaded on their brows. The boys healing ability made surgery an exercise in speed and brutality. They adjusted the many machines feeding a toxic mix of unbelievably harsh chemicals to the boy through numerous tubes and IV lines, trying to buy themselves a few more minutes of time. Their most complex surgery yet was almost complete.
It was a race. The finish line was completion of this surgery and it was marked by Death itself. If they weren't fast enough, their subject would die. He would step into those infinite arms and never again lie on these tables, never again undergo such torture. The scientists in the rooms were experienced enough to watch the boys vitals signs and understand that he was willing himself to die, even against his own incredible healing power. The race was drawing to a close. They had underestimated the fierce will-power of the boy, had underestimated the depth of agony they would cause and how it would send the boy racing toward death willfully.
"We're losing him! Tassen....do something!" Hall yelled, not looking up from the bloody cavity his hands were moving so quickly in.
Next to him, Tassen seemed to be in a near-coma, his eyes glassy and his face slack. He stood unnaturally still, his breathing very slow and steady. His mind had pulled far back from the reality around him, instead tying tight to his powers and bringing them to bear in as controlled and precise a manner as he possibly could. He was using sound waves to palpitate the boy's heart and to hold the chest cavity open. It was like trying to battle ten thousand tiny searching fingers, seeking to get past the wall, all while trying to keep a life-giving pattern of heartbeats.
"Damnit!" Dr. Hall snapped, sensing Tassen hadn't heard him. He lifted his foot and brought his heavy heel down with as much force as he could muster, directly on top of Tassen's foot.
That broke Tassen's concentration. He took one smooth step back from the table, his eyes bright with pain and an animal fury.
"Tired of living, Hall?" He asked venomously, his power giving his voice a cutting edge. Those edges sliced gently, almost tenderly, at Dr. Halls face, tiny zig-zag lines of crimson suddenly appearing along his cheeks.
Dr. Hall didn't flinch, didn't even register the searing pain. He was too focused on the task at hand.
"When you're done acting like a child, would you please address the situation at hand?" He growled, his hands moving even faster than before, fighting off the waves of skin and flesh that sought to close the wound in the boy's chest.
That level of focus, that level of disregard for the threat he was radiating, made Tassen regain his self-control and assess what was happening. He scanned the machines in the room in a quick glance, absorbing details and comprehending exactly how far things had gone.
"Should have woke me sooner!" He snarled, turning to sprint from the room.
The moment he was in the hall, his power radiated out from his chest and slid around him like a second skin. Then his power began to flex, darting movements of pure sound energy, propelling him down the hall far faster than any human could ever run.
He was back in what seemed like seconds, carrying a nearly unconscious flame-haired girl in his arms. He literally dropped her atop the boy, his power violently shoving everyone in the room back, away from the boy.
"Get out of my way! You fools have done enough!" He snapped, his hand cracking sharply across the girls cheeks.
He slapped the girl savagely, the force of his heavy blows snapping her head back and forth like a boneless puppet.
"Wake up, you rat girl! Your boy is dying!" He screamed.
He drew back his arm to strike her again, then stepped back with a greasy, snake-like smile as she shook her head and rolled over to stare down at the boy. Looking into his sightless eyes.
"Callin?" She whispered brokenly, her voice brimming with horror.
She lifted her head and speared Tassen with her eyes. Eyes somehow now ancient, powerful, accusing.
"What have you done?" She whispered slowly. It was a gentle sound, a soft voice, yet it seemed to shake Tassen's mind like the merciless fury of a nuclear blast.
Tassen sagged to the floor, throwing his fading willpower into one last sentence.
"He isn't dead. You can save him." He said, then fell forward, unconscious.
Mirage looked back at Callin, reaching for him within their link. It was true! He was still there, a tiny spark of light against endless, infinite blackness.
She shut her eyes and latched onto his temples, chasing after him with everything she had. Part of her mind knew that if he died now, she would die with him. Part of her mind wanted that to happen. But she was a fighter to the very core. Giving up was not an option.
She reached out with her powers, trying to wrap them, wrap herself, around him. To pull him back from that sucking, swirling blackness. That proved utterly useless, and she quickly changed tactics. She instead sent her power into the voids and cracks and rends within him. Trying to hold him together, trying to tie him back into the Callin she knew and loved.
She was focused on the task at hand, her powers weaving him back together, a veritable storm of light and life itself. It was mesmerizing and incomprehensibly beautiful. She was so caught up in it that she didn't even notice the approaching presence.
Then, the presence was close enough to send its chill over her mind, into her core, like invisible claws reaching deep and sinking into her very heart. She looked up into the eyes of rage itself. And she felt her mind begin to wither and come apart under that gaze.
It was Callin, yet it was not. It was Callin and that darkness together, twisted into some demented single entity. She fled. She threw herself back into her own mind and off of him, flying bodily away with a terror-shredded shriek.
Callin sat up slowly, the wounds covering him healing almost instantly, covered by utterly black strips woven into his skin. Strips that were woven across his eyes, into his mind, around his very core.
Carmen found her mind pulling back from Callin, pulling away from his memories of his torture in the lab. It was too much too bear, too insane for her mind to comprehend. No wonder Mirage had flung herself away so violently!
What had he done to himself with his powers that day?! And what had the surgeons and scientists been doing to him? Those black bands across chest, searing through his eyes...they were horribly familiar to her.
A frightened whisper of an idea skittered around in the alleys of her running thoughts but she pushed it down, not yet ready to face what it might mean.
The connection between Callin and Mirage was too deep. They had been through so much together. Now she understood the pain that rode just behind his eyes every day, she understood the loss that shook him in its unrelenting teeth.
He had a lost of piece of himself the day he had left her behind in the labs. Carmen wondered if she might be going a bit insane herself, now having re-lived some of his memories with him.
She opened her eyes and found herself staring down at him. She was lying on his chest, her bare hands touching his temples. His skin was warm and soothing beneath her fingers, his strong heartbeat making her smile.
She had healed him, had blended her powers even deeper with his and assisted his healing power. Together they had repaired the damage the Flayer had done to his heart. Yet she understood that she had also done so much more than just that. She had used her power to weave him back together. Piecing together much more than just the physical damage to his heart.
Just like Mirage had done for him, there on the operating table when he had almost died. The eerie similarity between what Mirage had done that day, and she herself had just now done was not lost on her.
She knew he wasn't complete. The weaving wasn't done yet. But she had reached the limits of what she could bear to see, as his mind had shared his memories with her. His complete fury, the darkness he held inside...it was all too much for her at the moment.
She stood, swaying on her feet, feeling like she was living in a dream world. A world that shifted back and forth within the jaws of some great, slavering beast of insanity. Behind her, strong hands held her steady. Raina. Her closest friend, there to help her when she needed it most.
"Good work, sister." Raina whispered.
It was not a thing Raina would normally say. Carmen couldn't remember Raina ever having called her sister before. She twisted about to face her, searching her friends eyes intently.
Raina arched one eyebrow, looking both a bit amused and a bit irritated.
"Now what?" Raina said.
Carmen sighed and shook her head. Now that had sounded just like Raina.
"Nothing. I was making sure you really were ok."
"You're making sure I'm ok when you look like old road kill warmed in a crock pot? I'm perfectly fine, you're the one who went chasing after Death itself!"
Carmen grimaced at the reminder.
"You most certainly are not fine. You were almost Rift Rent!"
Raina narrowed her eyes. "What? When?"
Ahleena came striding over, her power still sparkling across every inch of exposed skin. It flickered a multi-hued storm in the night, radiant colors that shouldn't exist.
"He is needed. You too, Carmen." Ahleena stated, her expression so bland, so unreadable, that Raina wondered if Ahleena was even really conscious of reality.
"He's busy being almost dead." Carmen said, motioning at Callin's still form. "Whatever it is, can't it wait?"
"The Torn will wait no longer. Wake him now."
Carmen looked furious at Ahleena's commanding tone. They had all almost died in this Flayer attack. And now Ahleena wanted to imperiously demand she wake Callin up?
She opened her mouth, scathing words boiling on the tip of her tongue, but Raina broke in.
"We will work together to wake him. Right, Carmen?"
Carmen glared at Raina like a she-cat, promising with her eyes that they would discuss this later. But she nodded. They would work together, and just maybe Raina could help guide her powers and she could heal-weave away just a bit more of Callin's pain.
"What is the Torn?" Raina asked, crouching down and placing both of her hands on Callin's bare chest.
Carmen saw how Raina's fingers were splayed out, softly sliding across the hard muscles of his chest, and she found herself blinking at the intimacy of the contact. What was Raina doing?
Raina looked up at Carmen expectantly. Carmen crouched next to her and stared at Callin, suddenly unsure. Before, she had been so terrified at the idea of losing him that she had allowed her instincts to guide her.
Now, she didn't feel that clarity. Now she was actually scared to enter Callin's mind again. Without the strength and limitless courage given by her instincts and fear of losing him, she felt powerless and fragile.
Raina seemed to sense her hesitation, and reached out, wrapping her hand tight around Carmen's, pulling their linked hands down to Callin's chest. She coaxed Carmen's hand flat, telling Carmen with her eyes to keep them firmly in place on his chest. Then she took her own hands and placed them gently on his temples. With Callin as the conduit, their powers were still able to link, although it was weak, indistinct.
They both shut their eyes and focused inside, looking past their own sensations. Looking past their own thoughts. Trying to find Callin.