Finn
A collection of clouds looms overhead, blanketing the sky in a morose canvas of gray. Moisture builds within them. They bloat and distend from the pressure, slumping closer to earth with a windy sigh of defeat. The air is thick with heat and holds its breath in anticipation of the storms to come. Lightening flickers like a pulse of the sky. Each beat grows in strength, stretching its fingers closer, closer.
The moment before a thunderstorm holds the promise for change. There's electricity in the air, and it's as if Fate itself is ready for a change.
"Mr. Primary is looking for you, Mr. Secondary."
I still at the familiar voice. After years of being cooped up in this fortress, I believed I would earn the right to privacy. However, time doesn't seem to play a factor. The intruder takes his place beside me, leaving the proper distance between us to respect the differences in our species and subsequent, societal ranking.
"When it's just us," I say quietly. "Please address me by my informal title." Then, under my breath, I mutter, "I'm liable to forget my name otherwise."
"My apologies, Finn," my guard corrects, nodding slightly to emphasize his regrets. "Habit of formality."
I wave him off. "Besides, have you ever met a Secondary who cannot ingest food?"
My guard, Douglas, remains quiet. I turn towards him, leveling my gaze upon his.
"Mr. Primary insists I am a true Secondary and the rightful King to this nation, alongside him. But I see the looks, Douglas. I hear the whispers. The humans and Secondaries doubt me. They believe me to be a full vampire as opposed to their Secondary King. Unfortunately, I don't have the memory to confirm or deny the claim. I remember nothing."
Douglas shifts and lowers his gaze. He attempts to staunch the discomfort from bleeding into his expression, but I smell it through his emotions. The rumors are still circulating, then.
"Forgive me, Finn," he murmurs. "I don't know how to answer such a question. What species you are matters not to me. I believe you to be our true King; that is what matters."
"Even if I am fully vampire?" I test.
Douglas tucks his hands behind his back, clasping the fingers of his right hand around his left wrist. The blood flow strains around his wrist as he squeezes his fingers tighter around the tender flesh. His pulse thrums, and he peers up at the sky while deliberating his answer.
I shouldn't put him in such a precarious situation. To denounce me as his true King would be treason. To show support of a vampire, a species coined to be spawned from hell, is cause for death. Yet, I know it's the only way to get an honest answer.
"I have served you for the better half of a decade," he begins. "And in my time here, there has neither been a single human nor Secondary who has come forward claiming to know you before the war. Now, some say it's because everyone who knew you prior to the war was killed. Others believe they are still out there, forever silenced by force or by fear. Perhaps both.
Like the rest, I did not know you before the war, but I have heard many stories. You are a mystery to the masses, and there is no clear way to discern the facts from the fantasies.
People don't like mysteries, Finn. They like answers. So, they grasp ahold of the whispers and put you into a clear, defined box to appease their own selfish need for security. People don't know how to handle uncertainty. It's a weakness and a form of ignorance that's as old as time."
"You have an uncanny ability to sidestep my questions, Douglas."
A gentle smirk hovers around his lips. "What I'm trying to say is, I don't care where fact meets fiction. I don't care who you were before the war. Whether human, Secondary, or vampire, I know you. And the being that you are, regardless of the species associated with it, is someone I would be proud to serve as my King. Always."
His words stir something inside me. It burns like an ember, its warmth trickling through my veins like a living current. It is an emotion, no doubt, but I experience them so infrequently that I cannot ascertain which it is. This is Mr. Primary's proof I am a Secondary, because vampires do not have emotions. He tells me, 'they're birthed from the deepest crevices of the hellish inferno. They are heartless creatures, Finn. Pure and undiluted evil.'
"Thank you, Douglas." I sigh and push away from the foyer railing. "I've kept you out here long enough. Let's see what Mr. Primary needs."
He breathes out a sigh of relief. It's never pleasant to keep our Mr. Primary waiting. Douglas follows a step behind me as we make our way across the foyer. Just as he pulls the door open for me, the first droplet of rain lands on my skin and absorbs into the fine hairs of my forearm. Goosebumps follow in its wake, the very electricity in the sky delicately humming through me. My earlier notions are confirmed with a single touch of Nature's fingertips.
A change is near.
<<< >>>>
I'm told the renovated, Secondary fortress is much different than the underground layer it used to be. Only years ago, the entire Secondary population lived within the confines of the mountain. They were barricaded within, with rocks as their walls and dirt as their flooring. Mr. Primary has yet to allow me to visit. It's now a monument of war, he explains. Out of respect, it should remain unbothered. Besides, the demons of war still reside in there, the souls of the damned trapped and ready to prey on all who dare enter.
Glass vines hang suspended from the ceiling. Glittering lights serve as their leaves, shimmering overhead to create a soft pathway of illumination through the hallways. Douglas' footsteps click across the marbled floor. It's been recently waxed, and my fair complexion bounces back to greet me in the reflection.
I try to imagine a dirt floor as we travel deeper into the fortress. Mr. Primary and his staff have quite the penchant for the finer things. Envisioning them in a dingy, dirty fortress seems unreal. Another world entirely.
Many tell me it is a gift I am rid of my memories. Still, oftentimes I find myself wishing I could find my way back to them. All I get are bits and pieces from Mr. Primary, coupled with the hushed rumors of the staff (which they don't think I'm able to hear). The details never align.
According to Mr. Primary and his Secondary warrior, Tegan, the war almost killed me. Near the end, an enemy and prisoner of war injected me with a venomous poison just before making his escape. The venom traveled to my brain, successfully wiping away my memories before putting me into a coma. He claims I was a hero, though, and that my sacrifices helped end the war.
"Here we are, Mr. Secondary."
Douglas ushers me into Mr. Primary's chambers, bidding me goodbye with a parting bow. He takes his place outside the door, positioned alongside Mr. Primary's personal guards until I make my return. I walk along the familiar route to Mr. Primary's meeting room. The vibrant, clear light of the hallway is replaced with a dim, crimson hue. It bounces against the gray walls and highlights the abstract artwork hanging from the walls. They're all angular bodies of glass, with varying shades of sand swept across their surfaces. Every piece is frozen in time.
The same artwork lines the walls of my chamber as well, yet it can be found nowhere else in the fortress. Just our chambers. I was not consulted with décor choices, but even if I was, my preferences would inevitably be denied. The purpose for the matching display is more than preference. It is a silent statement.
Mr. Primary expectantly waits for me at the head of his mahogany table. He is flanked on either side by Tegan and Leo, the man in charge of public relations with the human population. They glance up as I make my entrance. None of their expressions give away the purpose behind the summon, but as I near Leo and Tegan, I sense a hint of excitement.
"Finn."
Mr. Primary addresses me as I take my seat beside him. My name is whispered with a tone laced with optimism and pride, a dangerous combination. His piercing blue eyes study every inch of my face. He does this often, studying me, searching for the answers to a question that's yet to be unveiled.
"Mr. Primary," I say.
I use his formal title to keep distance between us. Just like my preference for Douglas to address me as Finn, Mr. Primary prefers I use his informal name as well. Reyo. Given our surrounding company, though, he doesn't correct it.
"It's good to see you again, Mr. Secondary," Leo greets with a nod.
Tegan throws him a warning glance as a flash of irritation passes over Mr. Primary's face. Even if he publicly speaks of us as equals, I know Mr. Primary's true view on humans. It is detestable. Is that the cause for such an unfavorable reaction?
"You as well, Leo," I say in returned greeting, purposely pushing the envelope of Mr. Primary's irritation. I tap my slender fingers against the surface. "Now, what's all this about?"
It's not often that I'm included in meetings with Tegan, and certainly not with Leo. Mr. Primary straightens, and a genuine smile stretches across his thin lips.
"For five years, Finn, I have asked you to be our nation's second King. To stand beside me as my equal and build an empire with me. An empire in which the Secondary Era will thrive for centuries to come."
He pauses for effect, allowing the words to become suspended in the tense silence. It's both a promise and a threat.
"And for five years, you've requested more freedom," he continues. "To be able to travel the country that is now ours. The country you have long forgotten after that traitor stole it away from you."
By now, I know any offer or deal that is posed by Mr. Primary comes with hefty strings attached. He does not give charity, especially at his own expense. Still, the prospect of more freedom pulls at my deeper desires. Despite my best efforts to keep a neutral reaction, I curiously raise a brow. Mr. Primary's eyes gleam. He knows he has my attention.
"I've designed a tour of sorts," Mr. Primary continues. "You'll be taken to the largest towns and markets all across the country. You'll be able to see the land, to meet the people, and to get a taste of that freedom you so desire.
He makes a sweeping gesture to Leo.
"Leo will be making public addresses at every stop, building rapport and camaraderie amongst our citizens." His hand turns towards Tegan. "And Tegan will be traveling one step ahead throughout the tour. She'll assess any security pitfalls and mitigate the risks prior to our arrival. As you know, Finn, you are still a major target after the war. There are still vultures out there who would try to steal you. Torture you."
His gaze sharpens. He wants me to hear his words and feel their weight. I give a nod of understanding. There's a mixture of emotions emitting from both Leo and Tegan, but I hold Mr. Primary's attention to keep from any distraction with the conversation at hand.
"It sounds promising," I say. I mull over my next question before asking gently, "and what shall be my role for this tour?"
Mr. Primary reaches over and pulls my hand into his. His thumb traces over my knuckles.
"Your role shall be the one that has been waiting for your acceptance for years. To agree to be my King. The other proper ruler to this nation. You say the word, Finn, and Tegan will leave tomorrow. Say the word, and the country is yours. Do you accept?"
I think of the raindrop. The flicker of lighting. The looming gray clouds. Fate itself is ready for a change.
"Yes," I say with finality. "I accept."