Lightblade | Chapter 3

On the way to my dorm, with the stench of blood and piss lingering in my nose, a bitter wind swept through the gaps between my shirt buttons and brought with it a piece of paper. The paper slapped me in the face, as if Vir’s ghost was hitting back. But what the paper said terrified more than any spirit.

You’re being lied to. Maniza is not a rich country. It is one of the poorest countries in the world. Sanga Surapsani has told you lies. He calls himself emperor, but he’s barely a raja. You can live better. You can be free. It’s all in your hands.

From your friends in Karsha

I crumpled the paper and stuffed it in my shirt. I needed to burn it. Even touching such a thing would mean my execution if anyone saw. If only I could conduct fire into my hands, I’d inflame it this second, but I was far from possessing such an ability.

As soon as I got to my dorm, I went to the bathroom, used the paper to wipe, then left it in the trash heap. No one could question that.

Back in my room, I removed my machinist stone from the slot in my chest. The green glow disappeared from the air as I shuddered from the usual jolt when removing and inserting stones. I took out my dream stone from the cardboard box; it had a slightly orange tint. I put it in my chest slot. The air, too, tinted orange.

Wonderful thing about dream stones, they not only contained dream programs, but they also helped the user fall asleep. All you had to do was inhale the orange light. There was no complicated technique to it. Just inhale and let it settle in your veins.

I lay on my bed, closed my eyes, and inhaled the orange light. My room stunk of my sweat, and it made me itch. Still, it wasn’t long until a river of honey swept me into the dream world.

I awoke on a mountain. Boulder-sized rubies and emeralds dotted the area and refracted sunshine into brilliant rainbows. A weird crosshatch pattern covered the sky, as if someone had drawn on the clouds with a god-sized pen. Sometimes, glitches could be an awe to behold.

But where was Zauri?

As I walked on the mountain path, melodious bird song soothed me, though its repetitiveness was perhaps a sign of the original stone’s artificial memory limitation.

I found Zauri sitting beneath a cedar. The cedar was strangely normal, and there was even a red-tailed squirrel chittering in a hole on the bark — an animal I’d only seen in my dreams.

Zauri wore a lapis blazer that matched her hair, with golden buttons. Her hair was a bit of a wavy mess. She smiled and stood when she saw me. She dusted herself, hurriedly, as if she were surprised at my coming. “You’re back.”

I wished I could forget what I’d remembered earlier and just be glad to see her, but with the guilt on me, a smile seemed too heavy.

Her smile softened and turned into concern. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. What’ve you been up to?” I didn’t want to tell her. Tell her the kind of man I’d learned I was. Anything to distract from that.

She shook her head. “I don’t exist when you’re not here. The interaction between your mind and the dream stone is what creates me.”

“Oh, I see. So…what did you experience between the last time we saw each other and now?”

“It’s hard to describe. But it does feel like some time has passed. About two or three weeks, I’d say.”

Sixteen hours for me was sixteen days for Zauri, so that made sense. I nodded as if it mattered. I didn’t know what to say next, but if I were speaking my heart, I’d tell her I wish you didn’t exist. I wish I’d never modded you into existence. Perhaps my eyes said it because her pupils shrank as sadness swept over her face.

“One’s mental state is an important part of fighting,” she said. “Even beginner teachers like me are scripted to help others…with whatever problems they’re facing in real life. So that you have a clearer mind when training.” She gulped and tensed as if she were putting her feelings on the line. “What I’m trying to say is, I’d like to know what’s bothering you.”

How sad: the only person who cared to ask me that was a script. Well, it had been that way for twelve years. Or had Vir cared about me? His friendship seemed genuine, but you never really knew. You never knew what people hid in their hearts. Still, I knew what I’d done to him, but I didn’t know what could compel me to do such an awful thing. And because I didn’t understand my own actions, I didn’t know what kind of person I was, who I was.

How to express any of this to Zauri?

“Tell me, Zauri, do you have…” I tried to find the proper wording but settled on whatever I could pluck. “Bad behaviors?”

Her eyebrows shot up. “Well…I told you earlier my script was as large as yours, but I was also scripted to be agreeable, and sometimes stern, so…I don’t know…it depends how you define bad.”

“Would you ever hurt someone else? Someone you cared about? All just to gain something you sought?”

Zauri took a deep breath. “Umm…I don’t think so. I don’t really have needs the way you do, and I don’t exist in a place where there’s scarcity. So…I mean…I don’t know. I haven’t really been tested.”

“What if…what if you could feel pain? What if someone tried to hurt you, and the only way to escape that pain was to hurt them back? What would you do?”

The slightest fear shimmered in her eyes. And then she shrugged. “I really don’t know.”

She could never understand, then. Sure, she could give me her sympathy, but what was that worth? I suffered alone.

Still, I had to get it off my chest. “So, here’s the thing…” I took a few minutes to explain what I’d done to Vir. Zauri nodded throughout and her eye contact never wavered, which at least made me feel heard.

At the end, she spent ten seconds in silence, staring at the ground, as if to process what I’d said. “So…you discovered why you want to make a lightblade, then.”

Those words were like a jolt of unwanted conduction. “No. I’m even further from that realization. All I’ve discovered is that I hurt someone, betrayed someone. Lied, killed. What the hell kind of person am I?”

“Exactly.” She closed the distance and took my hand. Something electric passed from her into me. It wasn’t light, though. “It’s not them you hate. You hate what they made you become. Do you get it, Jyosh?”

“So you’re saying…I want to kill the Emperor — or die trying — because I’m upset that he turned me into a lying, backstabbing, traitorous piece of shit? But then why…why don’t I remember having that realization?”

She squeezed my hand. “I don’t know. Maybe the modified dream stone did something, or maybe you’re just repressing the memory. Maybe you’ve compartmentalized your thoughts — it’s a common thing people do to survive and not hate themselves. Break into little pieces.” She sighed. “I think…you’re just in an awful situation. You were probably protecting yourself, hoping to gain something, maybe even a ticket out of the camp, when you betrayed your friend. And given your situation, I can’t blame you. Jyosh…I don’t think you’re a bad person.”

Wait…was she just saying that to make me feel better? If it were Emperor Raja Sanga Surapsani himself standing before her, lamenting his crimes, perhaps she’d console him too, just so he could train with a clear mind.

The distance between us deepened, and it filled me with sadness.

“Do you still want to learn the lightblade?” she asked with more gentleness than my own mother.

Did I? I burned with rage…but now that fire turned inward. I hated myself. But Zauri was right: I hated that they’d turned me into something hateful. Why not learn the lightblade, then, so I could at least die with it in my hands?

“The thing is…I remembered something else, too.” This fact made everything so much worse. Showed that I was a heartless opportunist at heart. “I helped execute someone today, and if I do that eight more times, they’ll free me. At least, that was their promise. I have no idea if they keep their promises. I mean, I doubt it, but even a small chance at a good life might be better than nothing. Better than this suicide mission I signed up for.”

“Whatever you think is best. Whatever you believe is your shot at getting out, at living a better life, I think that’s what you should do.”

Such sweet words, yet they tasted so bitter. I laughed with that bitterness dripping from my mouth. “You’re telling me to kill eight more people. Most who are completely innocent, their only crime being an inability to work because their overworked veins can hardly conduct light anymore.” I raised my voice. “And you’re telling me it’s okay to kill them?”

She backstepped as if frightened of my anger. But why should she fear? Unlike me, she couldn’t feel pain, and that made us nothing alike. “They’re going to die anyway, right? You didn’t pass the sentence.”

“So that makes it okay? Are you serious, Zauri? Is that what your script is telling you? Have you no…have you no sense of right and wrong? You’re just trying to make me feel better, and I don’t deserve to feel better. Don’t you see?”

Zauri’s cheeks paled. Her bottom lip trembled slightly. Her pupils shrank. All these subtle emotions on her face…I never sensed anything so deep from Prisaya. How could a script be so lifelike?

“You’re right. I realize that now, you’re right. You might think I’m an unfeeling, unthinking program, but I am feeling right now. I’m feeling you. And your pain…it’s more real to me than the mountain we’re standing on, than the birds singing around us. But I don’t have all the answers. If right and wrong were merely a matter of logic, it would be so simple, wouldn’t it? The truth is, I…I care about you, Jyosh. That’s why I said what I said.”

Such heavy words. But — of course — a lightblade training program would care about her student. And yet, the way she phrased it seemed so…human. Was I really arguing with something that wasn’t alive? Something that was created by the interaction of my mind and the dream stone and thus was an illusion?

I sighed as if trying to throw off the weight. Perhaps I shouldn’t have told her. Nothing could make me feel better. And it didn’t matter. Let the poison flow. Maybe I could make a lightblade with all the rage in me. Let my hate make me stronger; let it mold me into a new person.

“Let’s get started with our lesson,” I said. “Sanga Surapsani will be visiting soon, and I want him to know what he’s done. Not just to me. Not just to Vir. Not just to my family.” I recalled the paper that had slapped me in the face. That was addressed to all the people of Maniza, all who suffered beneath the Emperor’s floating throne. “Let my defiance be a symbol. Maybe then, when I’m dead, I’ll feel better about myself.”

Zauri was right. In my poor mood, my lightblades weren’t more than flickering sparks that occasionally solidified into proper beams, only to sputter and diffuse at the slightest movement.

Hands on hips, frowning, she slowly shook her head. What happened to her agreeableness? Perhaps having a frustrated teacher was a necessary pain, though I wasn’t some child who worried what his teacher thought of him. Or was I?

“Again!” she demanded.

How many times would she watch me fail? To say I was discouraged would be an understatement. This whole thing had been a mistake, surely.

Zauri put her hand on mine, then snatched the sword hilt. “You lack motivation. It’s time to give you some.”

She opened her palm; a terminal window appeared above it. She tap-tapped on it.

“What are you doing?” I asked. “Summoning cigars, I hope?”

“You haven’t earned a cigar.” Said so coldly, I wished I had a coat. Woolen and double layered. She tapped some more commands, then closed her palm.

A bright light appeared next to her. That light coalesced into the shape of a man. And then it solidified into a man: pale, pot-bellied, and…headless! What the hell!?

“Oh, no.” Zauri backstepped, hand over her mouth in shock. “Where’s his head?”

She opened her palm; the terminal appeared above it. She tapped it while biting her lip.

The man’s clothes changed; now he wore a crisp suit with a golden scarf. Tap-tap. Now he was in blue swimwear. Tap-tap-tap. And now he had four arms!

“Ugh,” Zauri grunted. “Can’t seem to give him a head. Oh well. He’s a program, so I’m sure he can still see without one.”

A brief, bright flash. A sword hilt materialized in one of his hands. The headless man raised it forward, in my direction, and cast a short, straight, pinkish lightblade.

“What?” I pointed at the headless man. “Am I meant to fight back?”

“You better fight back.” Zauri smirked. Such mischief. Maybe she did have an evil side. “It’ll hurt.”

“But I can’t even make a stable blade!”

“Or can you? Only one way to really find out.” She put two fingers in her mouth and whistled.

The pale, pot-bellied, headless man lunged, lightblade surging toward my chest. I darted to the side, slid onto my knees, then turned and got up fast as I could. Raised my hilt to block his next swing, praying for a beam.

Nothing came out.

I rolled away, barely missing his furious downward swipe. That would’ve split me in two! I was shocked at how acrobatic I was as I sidestepped, slid, and backed away from the thing’s attacks.

“Make it stop, Zauri! Please!”

“Only you can make it stop. Kill it, Jyosh!”

How was I supposed to without a blade? Earlier, she’d wanted me to relax to make the blade, and now I was meant to make one with some wild, headless creature swinging at me? Although my life wasn’t really in danger, my body seemed to think it was with how hard my heart pounded.

My knees ached from the stumbles and slides on the pebbly mountain ground. And then, amid a mistimed dodge, I tasted fire. The thing’s lightblade went through my shoulder, and I watched a chunk of me fly.

Zauri whistled; the headless man stood back, lowered his arms, and retracted his lightblade. My entire left side burned, though I couldn’t see flames, only feel them. My shoulder numbed. I couldn’t move my dangling left arm, which only remained attached to me by a taut, rubbery, bloodied strand of muscle.

“My arm…my arm…” was all I could say.

Zauri put her hand on my back. Violet light flooded me. It soothed the pain, as if honey milk were kissing my nerves. My shoulder…the missing chunk filled with light. Somehow, my flesh regrew in that light. Seconds later, I was whole again.

Whole, but still a failure.

“Take a break,” Zauri said, her tone drenched in disappointment.

After resting, I walked into the palm forest. What could be creepier than these trees? They grew hands instead of branches, and the hands held emeralds, and the emeralds glowed. Why? It seemed oddly intentional to be a glitch; how deranged was this modder’s mind?

In the camp, everyone was deranged to some degree. And that modder…I didn’t really know who he was, but if he reported me, I’d doubtless be executed. But so would he — mutual self-destruction. It was perhaps the safest contract I’d ever made.

If only I could wield a lightblade and lop all these hands off the trees. But even in my dreams, I couldn’t be strong. Even with the red sun overhead. Ideal conditions, and I couldn’t do it. What chance did I have in real life with the weaker, slightly yellower sun at the horizon?

Even if I failed, what did I have to lose? Success or failure, either way, meant my death. An oddly comforting thought.

I went to the beach and watched the headless pot-bellied men zoom around the air on turtle shells. I lay in the sand and stared at the crosshatch-patterned sky. This shore was the only place worth spending time in; the salty air, the seagulls’ chirping, the tide breathing in and out — so soothing. A peace worthy of my final breaths.

If I couldn’t make a lightblade, perhaps I could try killing the Emperor some other way. Lunge at him with a razor. But would that inspire anyone? It wouldn’t truly show defiance, show that I’d been able to learn how to make a lightblade despite it being forbidden. I was powerless and lacking choices. Still, anything was better than nothing.

I turned at the plush of footsteps on sand; Zauri knelt behind me, her lapis blazer already sandy.

“You sure do like this beach,” she said.

“It’s the only thing I like. Although, there was a nicer beach near where I grew up.”

“I feel…” She hemmed and hawed. “I feel like I’ve failed you. And it’s actually painful. I don’t like it.”

Clever, whoever coded that in her script. If she felt pain at her students’ failures, then it would motivate her to be a better teacher. To do more to help them succeed.

“I failed myself. It’s no fault of yours. You’ve been spectacular.” How the tale had twisted. Now I was making her feel better. And it felt oddly good to be in that position for a change.

“I have ideas, if you’d like to try them.” Zauri sat down beside me. “Better ideas than the one earlier.”

“I don’t know.” I let out a sad sigh. “I’m a breath away from being used up. From not being able to conduct anything, anymore. So now whenever I inhale light, be it green or red, I worry if it’ll be the last time. Perhaps that’s why I can’t succeed. I know, in my bones, that it’s hopeless.”

Zauri put her hand on my shoulder. “I won’t lie and say it isn’t hopeless. Maybe it is. I don’t think I was designed to help someone like you. I’m…inadequate.”

The color left her face. I didn’t like seeing her so gray. My failure to cheer her up and her failure to help me — such a sad cycle.

When I lived with my family in the floating city, I used to cheer my brother and sister up by doing the goofiest nonsense: somersaults with my tongue sticking out, singing songs in the highest notes, running around in my underwear with my toy lightblade — anything to see them smile, as if I were a desperate clown.

That goofy humor had since turned bitter. All that remained was a biting sarcasm, and I wasn’t sure Zauri would like it. I often regretted my jokes soon as they’d slipped off my tongue.

Truth was, I had no happiness to give to someone else. But where does happiness come from, anyway? Could I inhale it from the sun, like I did for light? Could I conjure it from my core like magic?

We sat in a sad silence. Though Zauri sniffled, I didn’t see tears, so maybe it was just allergies. Weird that a dream program would have allergies. My companion Prisaya never cried, either. Come to think of it, I’d never seen a woman cry since the day my sister Chaya learned what he’d done. Seen plenty of grown men cry since, though.

Sand splashed onto me from behind. Zauri and I swiveled around as a turtle shell landed near where we sat and skidded into the water. The headless, pale, pot-bellied man who’d been riding it fell in a heap.

I got up and pulled the turtle shell out of the water. It was bigger than my body but lighter than paper. Dream logic.

The headless man got on his knees and bowed, as if begging me to give him the turtle shell.

I shook my head. “It’s mine now. Go away.”

He ran back down the beachside crying out of his neck.

I dropped the turtle shell onto the sand and turned to Zauri, who seemed somewhat neutral about the whole thing.

“Care to give this a try?” I asked.

“You mean, fly?” Zauri chuckled as if the child in her had awakened. That made me smile and chuckle as well. A bright seed had germinated in the air between us. Perhaps we could tend it.

I sat at the front of the shell. Despite being so light, the surface was firm, unbending. Zauri got on her knees behind me and clung to my shoulders.

I’d never flown, even in a dream. It had never been possible in this dream stone before, so the modder must’ve added it in.

Actually, I had flown once: in a levship when they sent me from Harska to the labor camp. But I try not to remember that ride.

“Uhh…” I knock-knocked on turtle shell. “How does this work? Any idea?”

“You’re a machinist, right? This turtle shell must be some kind of machine. So inhale and conduct green light into it.” Zauri scratched her head. “Actually, let me make that a bit easier for you.”

She opened her palm terminal and tapped into it. The sun brightened, then changed from red to white. The world suddenly felt and looked better.

“There you go,” she said. “Now try.”

I rested my palm on the shell, inhaled green from the sun into the crystal in my chest, and flowed the light through my veins and into the shell.

Whoosh! An air burst pushed us up. Nausea bubbled in my stomach as we hovered several feet above the sand.

No matter. I yelped in joy. I could fly!

I pushed more green light into the shell. We whooshed higher. High enough for my body hairs to stand in fear. Whoosh! High enough that the island became a sand mound drifting in an endless rain puddle. Zauri clung closer, giggling and cheering, her nervous sweat wetting my neck.

I could go higher, but I wasn’t sure how to move sideways. No command console appeared in my mind’s eye, nor could I feel any new limbs or wings.

It barely felt real, being so high. I was as a god. Also, good to know I wasn’t afraid of heights anymore, like I was as a child. Why fear such beauty, anyway?

“Umm, you know how to pilot?” Zauri asked.

I shook my head. “I don’t know anything.”

“Usually when piloting a levship, one person conducts the energy into the machine and the other directs the movement. It’s the best way to do it, especially for beginners.”

“Really? So it takes two for even a small thing like this?”

“Skilled pilots can control things by themselves, but two is optimal. I suppose it’s because our consciousnesses can only handle so much at once, and it’s better to specialize.”

Ah. So I could make it go up but lacked the experience to conduct light and control its sideways direction.

“Okay,” I said. “So…why don’t you direct where it goes?”

“I’ve never done it before.” Said so giddily. “But why not?”

Now I flowed the green in me into Zauri’s hands, which she’d placed on my shoulders. Her touch felt so…blue, like her hair. Not the blue of a bright sky, but of an ocean trench, where fish endure on the faintest sunshine, and some even shimmer with their own inner light. A soundless, somber coffin, ironically full of life. This was her natural frequency — every soul had one. Every soul…was that the correct wording? She didn’t have a soul, did she?

Sometimes to operate a big machine, I’d have to team up with someone. Teamed up with Vir, once, to operate the Big Beast. His frequency was red — not a rageful red, but a classy red. A deep red…maroon?

The longer you form a circuit with someone, the more of them you feel. The more your minds mix. We’d mixed, Vir and me. I’d felt how his emotions disturbed the light waves: frustration causing them to jitter, despair pulling them apart, even the rare times his hope caused a light wave’s crests to bounce. So when I betrayed him, it wasn’t like I didn’t know whom I was condemning to death.

Thinking of what I did to Vir depressed me. So I focused on the moment, on Zauri. Her emotions…though I was feeding my light into her, I could still feel how the waves flowed through her: she was a bit jittery, judging from the subtle jaggedness on the wave’s troughs, but the crests bounced with an excited glee. Despite these varied emotions, she maintained the final order of her light incredibly well, and it flowed into the turtle shell free of distortion.

So inwardly focused was I, that I hardly realized we’d soared into a cloud. Fog hugged us, its coolness drenching my hair and bare arms. For a moment, I felt I’d slide off the turtle shell and dwell forever in this endless gray storm. I opened my mouth to taste the cloud. Not sure what I expected; it was tasteless.

We splooshed out of the cloud. Zauri zoomed us to the ocean’s horizon. I turned to look back; the island was long gone, replaced by a vast, rippling blue carpet. With the artificial memory limitations removed, it seemed the landscape went on and on.

“So amazing!” Zauri said in my ear. It was both ticklish and arousing. “You ever felt anything like this?”

What was I even feeling? Half of me was focused on inhaling and flowing green light, a quarter on the incredible scenery, and a quarter on how warm Zauri felt against my back. Too much stimuli.

“Why don’t we pause and hover for a moment?” I said.

“Good idea!”

Zauri slowed us. I looked straight up. What the? That weird crosshatch pattern hovered above, except now we were mere feet from one of the lines that formed it.

“The hell is that?” I said as we came to stillness.

Zauri held her hand up as if she could touch one of the lines. “The sky is…some sort of grid? Weird.”

“I thought it was a glitch, but now that we’re close to it, it actually looks like something we could touch.”

 I accelerated the turtle shell upward, slowly, until we were touching distance from the lines. We both reached up and rubbed our fingers against it. Smooth and cold. Some kind of metal?

I turned to face Zauri, so we’d be sitting across from each other.

“Why do you think that’s there?” she asked, her nose ruffled.

It no longer felt like we were floating. Instead, it seemed like we were sitting on the floor. Surreal. Perhaps this was the line between the first and second heaven. Even levships couldn’t venture to the second heaven because the air was too thin.

Then I remembered this was just a dream, not the real world. There was no second heaven here. Just two people, staring at each other, perplexed.

“What if we try standing on it?” I said. “We could walk on the sky.”

The lines were thick enough to stand on. They had a flat top, too.

I accelerated us up through a gap between the lines. Then Zauri hovered us over one and landed on it.

 As soon as we stood, the turtle shell and sky vanished. A black floor replaced them, and lights appeared above. Spotlights. Walls surrounded us, and the air went from fresh to smoky and stale.

Zauri clenched her teeth in shock.

“The hell just happened?” I said.

She darted her gaze around. “You mean this isn’t your doing?”

“Why would I do this?”

“I don’t know. Where are we, then?”

I stomped my foot. The unmistakable hardness of a marble floor. The government offices in Harska had marble floors. Black marble, just like this. I’d walked on such a floor when I was twelve, the day I attended my own trial.

I’d stood in a dark room with spotlights, too. I’ll never forget the dim outlines of my judges sitting upon high benches on the far side. Thankfully, they weren’t here today.

“This is a—” I could barely wheeze out the words. Panic filled my lungs. I took a deep breath to calm myself. “This is a courtroom. It’s just like the one I stood in when they convicted me of treason.”

Needless to say, I didn’t like being here. Amid all this dark, where was the exit?

“This is all wrong, then,” Zauri said. “I’ll find us a way out.”

She stepped forward, out of the spotlight and into the darkness. I could no longer see her as she trotted around, her hard footsteps on marble the only reassurance that she was still with me.

My father, mother, and sister had all entered a room just like this to die.

“Zauri. I can’t see you.”

“I’m here.” Her voice came from a few yards away. “Just looking for a door.”

“No need. I’ll use a terminal command to get us back to the beach.”

I opened my palm. A terminal window appeared and hovered over it.

Travel>Beach

I was still standing in the room, and Zauri was still running around.

Travel>Beach

Again, nothing happened.

“It’s not working,” My words came out high-pitched and panicked. “Zauri, you try.”

No more steps. Had she found the door?

“Zauri?”

Silence.

“Zauri!?”

My heartbeat sped as I swallowed painfully. What the hell was happening? I was twelve years old again, tears bubbling beneath my eyes as a dark despair choked me.

I darted into the darkness in search of Zauri. I couldn’t see my hands in the pitch black between the spotlights.

Footsteps sounded behind me. I turned just as a spotlight switched on in the distance. Someone was standing there, a shadow amid the light. So familiar. Dread clogged my throat…it was him.

A cold hand grasped my shoulder. I yelped and spun around.

“It’s alright. Just me!” Zauri said, her body an outline in the dark.

I sighed out a gust in relief. “You could’ve answered me!”

“Sorry. I was outside. I found the door.”

It was suddenly hot. I could smell her sweat and my own.

“There’s something weird with how light works in this room,” Zauri said. “It doesn’t project very far. Probably another glitch. Come on — hold my hand and I’ll guide you out.”

I turned back to look at the spotlight. The shadow was gone, as if it never were. Perhaps I’d imagined it. Or was it yet another glitch?

Zauri took my sweaty hand. She tugged me farther into the dark. I couldn’t even see her outline, now. Then she pushed on something; a door squeaked open. She pulled me through.

We were outside. A hum resounded around us; it sounded like people talking, but everywhere. I’d not heard this sound in a long time: the background music of Harska, an endless bubbling of voices and clamor.

We were in a city. The ground was made of stone, but all the buildings were white and textureless, as if whoever scripted it had left it unfinished.

The humidity soaked my chest hairs. I took in the heavy, steam-like air. Though chilly winds constantly swept over the surface of Maniza, Harska was always mild and humid — just like this place — partly because a lake covered most of the floating island.

“It looks like we’re in an unfinished area.” Zauri tapped her chin. “Maybe whoever modded your dream stone added it in.”

“But…why? I’m gonna have to find the guy and ask him just what the hell he was thinking. This…this reminds me too much of Harska, where I grew up.”

Zauri poked her cheek. “Not unusual for someone to recreate their home in a dream stone, especially when they have to be away for a while. You think he came from there?”

“Could be. But I never asked him to do this, so why?”

Unlike the court room with the spotlights, which felt as dreadful as the one I’d stood in twelve years ago, this outdoor area of Harska was too unfinished to feel like home. In the distance, stone blocks floated in the air, as if they were meant to fit somewhere but the modder had never gotten around to placing them. It was all rather disconcerting.

“By the way, have you looked up?” Zauri showed me her toothy grin and pointed to the sky.

I looked up.

A circle with scales surrounded the sun, as if a ring around it. The longer I looked, the more defined it became: whiskers trailed off its blue and yellow face like flame tails. Its eyes were orbs bright as moons, and a forked tongue hovered out its elongated, fanged mouth. Strangest of all, blue fur covered only the lower half of its body, as if it, too, was unfinished.

“That a fucking dragon?” I wasn’t sure whether to be awed or terrified. A bit of both tingled every bone in me.

“Indeed. It’s a slumbering sky serpent.” Zauri said with a bit too much glee. “Designed in the form of a daeva.”

“Daeva? The hell is that?”

The dragon’s scaled, curled tail was almost in its mouth, and the ring it formed sprawled around the yellow sun. I truly hoped it was sleeping.

“Weird, I thought this was common knowledge.” Zauri puffed her cheek. “A daeva is a divine dragon. They were the greatest gods worshipped by the forbears of all civilization — the Ancients.”

“Oh. I don’t know anything about what gods other people worship. In Maniza, we’re taught only to worship the Emperor and his family.”

Zauri snickered. “Well, that’s obviously wrong. He’s not even worthy of the title ‘emperor,’ let alone worthy of worship.”

Strange, how opinionated she was on this topic. Why would a lightblade training program have such strong opinions about gods and emperors?

“I know it’s wrong. I just…I’m ignorant, okay? Sorry.” And I was ashamed of it. I wanted to be more curious about things, but where to start? I had no foundation when it came to understanding the world outside my camp, let alone outside my country.

“No, I’m sorry,” Zauri said. “It just…it interests me, that’s all. I shouldn’t assume you know what I know, or even care to know.”

“What interests you?”

“Dragons and gods and stuff.”

“Really?” I found it amazing that she had interests outside of teaching the lightblade. “So tell me about this daeva, then.”

That made her light up and smile. And seeing her smile made me feel brighter inside.

“The gurus say that he was the son of a great raja who’d ruled the world for ten thousand years. He grew impatient waiting so long for the throne, so one day he struck his father down. A sky serpent saw what he did and swallowed him as punishment. He lived in the serpent’s belly for another ten thousand years, feeding on whatever the serpent would eat, lamenting what he’d done, and meditating each day until he reached nirvana. The separation between his soul and the serpent’s soul ceased to exist, and they were reborn as one, unified divine dragon. Thus this daeva came to be.”

Quite an entertaining story. A nineteen-year-old lightblade training program was more interesting than I realized. In Maniza, you were only allowed to learn what Emperor Raja Sanga Surapsani allowed you to learn. I never realized Zauri could teach me forbidden things about the outside world. Truths, or at least sweeter lies, to wash away the bitter fruit I’d been fed.

“Another thing,” Zauri said. “If ever you should meet a dragon, remember they are governed by two iron laws.”

“Iron laws?”

“Mhmm.” Zauri held up one finger. “One — dragons are born in the dark and die in the light.” She held up two fingers. “And two — only a dragon can teach you how to slay it.”

Well, my chances of ever meeting a real dragon — if they existed — were slim, so I wasn’t sure what to do with such laws.

“Wait a minute…why would a dragon teach you how to kill it? That doesn’t make sense.”

She shrugged. “I don’t know. That’s just what the gurus say.” She pointed at me. “Don’t forget it!” She tugged on her blue hair. “Hold on…I think there’s a third law…but I don’t remember…”

“Uhh, okay. I’d love to know more. But this place is weirding me out. Let’s talk at the beach.”

Zauri smiled sweetly and nodded.

“If this is Harska, it must have an edge,” I said, “for us to jump off. I was never good with geometry, but if we walk in any direction, we should find it.”

We walked the streets, if you could call them that. More like an unfinished mishmash of floating stone blocks, wireframe buildings, and unpaved dirt roads. Unlike the real Harska, cypress trees didn’t shade the pathways, nor did ryegrass soften the fields. Too bad — I would’ve liked to be home again, even in a dream. To smell its dew, to be kissed by its breezes, and feel its stone paths beneath my feet.

The pathway ended and the edge we sought appeared. We peeked over it. Since Harska floated just below the second heaven, we could only see clouds below. They resembled a snowscape, and I almost believed we could stand on them.

What would happen if we fell through? Regretful pangs seized my limbs: whose dumb idea was this? What was scarier than this perch? Suddenly, I was a child again, afraid of heights. I’d already fallen from this city once, but if we jumped, we’d crash thousands of feet to our doom!

This was a dream, so it obviously wouldn’t kill me. Still, fear poisoned my veins. I didn’t want to show my fear to Zauri — for some reason — so just bottled it and rubbed my sweaty hands together.

Zauri tip-toed to the edge. No way she was scripted to fear heights; and yet, she bit her lip. “You first?”

“You’re the one who doesn’t feel pain. You go first.”

She chuckled nervously. “I might not feel physical pain, but I do feel fear.”

I looked back at the incomplete city. For a moment, a complete version of Harska flashed before my eyes. Bad memories bubbled in my stomach, overwhelming the good ones. I wanted out of here. At least I wouldn’t fall alone this time. “Let’s jump together, then?”

“O-Okay. That’s fair, I guess.”

Zauri grabbed my hand. We stood at the edge. I looked up and away instead of down. The sky above was no different from the sky below.

“Jyosh.” She gazed into me and smiled, a breeze whipping up her wavy blue curls. “Don’t let go, no matter what.”

“I can’t promise that. If I see another bear dancing on a shark, no telling what I’ll do.”

She giggled. It sounded so melodic and pleasing. “You should know, there’s a limit to how much pain you can feel. When part of your shoulder got sliced off earlier, that was already the worst of it. So although this fall won’t be pleasant, I promise it won’t be that bad.”

Having a chunk of shoulder sliced off by a burning blade wasn’t exactly a fun experience, but I’d eaten worse in real life.

“I have an idea.” Zauri got behind me and wrapped her arms around my stomach, tight. One of the warmest hugs I’d ever enjoyed. “We’ll jump like this, so I’ll hit the ground first and maybe break your fall.”

I scratched my head. Something about this plan didn’t make sense, but I wasn’t smart enough to figure out what. “Uhh…sure you can hold my weight while we’re in free fall?”

“Yup.”

I turned to face her. Our noses brushed briefly. Was I blushing? Was she?

“It’s better if we’re facing each other,” I said. “I’d rather see the ground than the sky.”

She hugged me tighter and pressed her forehead into my chin. “It’ll be all right. I promise.”

Lightning struck my mind. Chaya, my sister, had said those exact words as we hid in the closet, the day the military came for my family. We’d clasped our sweaty hands together and bawled as their bootsteps neared.

Days later, during the execution, I kept my eyes shut when they beheaded Amma and Abba. But someone noticed. He got behind me, pressed his fingers into my skull, and forced my eyes open. Thus, the image of Chaya without a head was burned into my brain.

“Ready, Jyosh?” Zauri asked softly.

I was suddenly drenched in awful feelings. “Wait, this seems wrong. Let’s find another—” And we were falling.

Hard to think in free fall. However long it really lasted, it was a moment of absolute horror. The wind threatened to pull my face off. Whatever we were falling into resembled a shadow that loomed and enlarged. Was that the ground or a portal to hell?

Zauri didn’t let go. She even wrapped her legs around mine, like a snake. At some point during the fall, pressure invaded my nostrils, punched my brain, and knocked me out.

Banging into the surface at hundreds of miles per hour woke me the hell up. The obvious happened: Zauri landed on her back, and the insane force knocked me into the sky. Before I regained my senses, I was draped in between the branches of some tree. Except they weren’t branches; they were long, sinuous arms. They entangled me, cold hands running through my hair.

I screamed. An utter numbness drowned whatever pain I was supposed to feel.

Zauri ran up to the tree after half a minute of me screaming my soul out. Judging by how small she was below, I must’ve been quite high.

She whipped out a sword hilt, formed a lightblade, and swept the tree in one, graceful motion. The tree tipped over. I faced the fresh horror of crashing face first into the ground.

“I got you!” Zauri ran toward my shadow. She caught me as I fell. We tumbled into the dirt, rolling over each other and getting sticky in each other’s sweat, until we finally came to a stop.

With both of us breathing heavy and fast, she lay on top and hovered her forehead over mine. A dozen emotions flitted across her face, from fear to shock to concern to relief and finally laughter.

I laughed with her. I didn’t know what I felt, but laughing helped me release it. It was good to have flown and fallen. Better than being stuck on the ground, forever afraid. Most of all, how wonderful to have experienced it with someone else. With her.

 

My hurried heartbeats began to match her slower rhythm. And then, as our laughter died down, our noses touched. A hope for more alighted in my body, and judging from how bright her pupils were, she must’ve felt the same. Zauri pushed her lips onto mine and kissed me.

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