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[Soul Forged] Chapter 2: Waste of Talent
🕑 Added 2025-08-22 17:43:56 +0000 UTCMy eyes stayed glued to Seth’s combat boots as I tried to follow in his footsteps. Strangely clean, they crunched against the rough, cold stone of the tunnel floor. Blood had soaked all the way through the synthetic leather of my sneakers. Sweat and grime cemented my socks to my feet. Still, even that felt more comfortable than the stiff silence that lingered between me and my brother.
Seth set an effortlessly urgent pace that forced me into a huffing half-jog.
Lingering patches of veilgator blood hardened on my cheek and jaw. It had taken me hours to prep the rest of the corpses, and there had been no time to clean. Frustrated and tired, I scratched at my face to clear the scabs away, but I only succeeded in driving a sharp sliver of blood beneath one of my fingernails.
I winced as the fragment drove deeper into my skin. In the end, I pulled it loose with my teeth and spit it out. A spot of my own red blood welled up at the tip of my fingernail.
I almost laughed. There was something stupidly ironic about being wounded by the dried blood of a dead parabeast.
The quick beat of Seth’s steps was growing farther away, and I shot a look at the back of his clean but well-worn olive cloak. Even though his face was hidden, I could perfectly picture the expression of icy detachment he projected.
“You’ve really got this whole ‘silent treatment’ thing down good. Definitely ready for fatherhood,” I said, just to break the icy silence.
He glanced at me over his shoulder, his expression exactly how I’d imagined. His scars—a fine line through his right brow and a thicker slash high on his cheekbone—only accentuated the coldness. He didn’t bother to respond.
Seth was the most powerful ardent in our division. The higher-ups prized him because of his prowess in battle and ability to always lead with composure. That was their word for it, at least. I called it indifference.
Stifling an irritated groan, I powered after him. The silence between us weighed heavier by the second. For a long time, the only sounds we exchanged were the hurried thudding of our mismatched footsteps on the rock.
That was, of course, until we approached the rift.
A wall of sound hit us as we left the narrow tunnel and entered a much larger cavern. At its center, looming over everyone, the expansive rift buzzed with life and blinding golden light. Makeshift stairs granted easier access to its base, which hovered a few feet off the ground. The golden rip in space and time was a sight that every ardent shared on their way in, but not all survived to see it again.
Seth started across the cavern without looking back at me. I fell behind, stealing glimpses of the various cliques and workstations to try and figure out what our unit had uncovered on this mission.
Two researchers in white lab coats huddled together nearby, speaking in hushed tones with a group of miners in hard hats. Ivory-headed pickaxes leaned against the wall behind them as the group set sample after sample of rocks embedded with glittering veins of hardened golden resin into the collection of open trunks nearby.
Along one rocky wall, about ten carvers in rubber aprons sorted and labeled the severed parabeast parts into piles. Despite the gory task of draining black blood from the monsters’ bodies, each person showed the level of professionalism and care that I’d tried to ask of Matthew.
I wonder how many times a parabeast corpse has tried to eat these guys, I thought with a scoff.
Not far off, closer to the stairs that led up to the exit, an ardent sat on a boulder with a splotchy bandage wrapped around his head. A medic in a red and white uniform knelt beside him to tend to the gash on his forearm. The ardent winced as the medic applied gel to the wound, but neither spoke, just going through the motions of their jobs. Behind the duo, more grime-covered soldiers mingled by a water station, refilling their canteens.
And then we passed the body bags.
My stomach dropped. Twenty-two black bags, all laid out in a single row in an isolated stretch of the cave. A priest stood by the first, his hand raised as he read the fallen ardent’s last rights. A medic sat nearby, her head in her hands, listening. Maroon blood soaked her forearms, and I could only imagine what she had seen in here today.
We’d lost a lot of people in this rift.
Instead of joining the other ardents in line for the cleansing stations, Seth veered left. He walked with purpose toward a man leaning against the cave wall and watching the priest’s grim procession from bag to bag.
The man saw us coming but didn’t immediately say anything, only shook his head sedately before returning his focus to the body bags. Dust powdered his spiky brown hair, and the jagged laceration on his neck probably needed attention from a medic.
“Hey, Jace,” I said, glad to see a friendly face after the shit-show that had been my day.
“Four of those body bags have boneforgers in them,” he said by way of a greeting.
I swallowed my retort. I knew he meant it as a word of caution, but I couldn’t help hearing a rebuke. After all, there I was, thinking about how hard my day had been, while four forgers lay right in front of me, cold and wrapped in plastic.
“How many total?” Seth asked.
“Twenty-six.” With a ragged cough, Jace spat a wad of bloody phlegm onto the ground. “The trainees already started carrying them out.”
“There’s nothing more you can do now,” my brother replied. “Get yourself to a medic.”
Jace shook his head. “There’s still a few ardents in worse shape than me. I’ll go after them.”
I raised a brow, tapping a finger on my neck. “You sure about that? Your head looks like it’s barely hanging on.”
Jace snorted. “What, this little scratch?”
In the silence that followed, Seth let out a steady breath, setting his hand on Jace’s shoulder. They stood there for a moment in silent solidarity, like they could read each other’s thoughts. Jace rubbed his eyes. A muscle tensed in his jaw. But he didn’t say anything else.
Seth and Jace side by side was a sight that frequented my childhood memories. But while Seth had always been serious, even as a kid, Jace used to smile and joke around with me. Growing up in the orphanage, he’d been a buffer that made my brother’s constant cool disapproval almost bearable.
“You still want a ride?” Seth asked.
“Yeah, sure.” Jace pointed to his wound. “If you’ve got time to wait for my beauty treatment.”
I snickered. Seth only said, “Meet you at the car,” and patted Jace’s back one last time before gesturing for me to follow him. More ardents had begun to flood out of the tunnel, and the line through the rift had gotten longer.
But we didn’t get far.
Seth stopped abruptly, and I skidded to an awkward stop behind him. He let out an almost inaudible grunt and, with only a brief glance over his shoulder, gestured for me to stay put.
Despite the fact that he was treating me like a puppy still in training, when I saw where he was headed, I was happy to stay behind.
He walked briskly toward a man in a black suit surrounded by people with clipboards. I couldn’t see the suit’s face from here, but I could guess it was someone from management.
The clang of metal on metal rang through the cavern, and I perked up at the familiar sound of boneforgers at work. It took a few seconds of scanning the chaos, but I eventually found a group of three boneforgers working on iron tables near the exit. One of them lifted a hammer into the air, and his golden raden glowed as he encased the forging tool with energy. With a grunt of effort, he hammered the sword pinned to the workstation beneath him, and it instantly snapped back into shape.
I watched him work while I waited, not really thinking about anything, just… watching.
“Torrin,” a gruff voice said behind me.
I flinched in surprise as a familiar boneforger with a scar on one cheek ambled toward me. Taj, a twenty-something who had joined the corporation’s ranks shortly after I did, gave me a curt nod. His arms were wet with blood and chunks of gore up to his shoulders, and he’d managed to smear some across his eyes and the bridge of his nose. “I need more of that solvent.”
“For your face?” I pointed at the black smears. “I wouldn’t recommend it.”
He snorted and tried to rub some of it off with the back of his sleeve, but it was already clotted. “No, smart ass. Anyway, I need three bottles.” He looked meaningfully at my bag.
I could only shrug in response. “I used up everything I had today. All out.”
“Shit,” he grumbled, clicking his tongue.
I didn’t feel too bad about it. I’d offered to trade off duties with some of the other boneforgers so I’d have more time for extracurricular projects like preparing the solvent, but they’d never taken me up on it.
“Maybe by the time the next rift opens, you’ll have some extra?” Taj asked, already moving away.
“If I have time. See you, Taj.”
“Yeah, all right. Later,” he answered half-heartedly before melting into the constantly moving crowd of ardents and workers.
I shook my head, reminding myself I didn’t owe these guys anything. Taj was all right, but outside of the rifts, he treated me like a pariah, just like the rest of the forgers. Unless they needed something, of course.
Casting a final glance at the cluster of boneforgers, I turned my back on them and began searching the crowd for my brother. Not far away, the posse of clipboard-wielding men and women had congregated tightly around Seth and the man in the black suit. Their well-groomed appearances and freshly pressed outfits looked weirdly out of place amid the blood, sweat, and dust.
Two ardents flanked the suit, scowling around at everyone.
The man set one hand on Seth’s shoulder, and I shuffled closer, catching part of the conversation.
“...concerns are valid, of course, but you underestimate yourself and your men. You did well today.”
At that moment, the man turned toward me, and I finally saw his face. The president of the Valera Conglomerate, joining the common folk inside a rift. Usually, his face was fifty feet tall, smiling down from the neon glow of a digital billboard. Even in realistic dimensions, he still stuck out, with his suit working overtime to contain his herculean build and ever-present entourage moving as one behind him like a school of fish.
In person, it was easier to see the family resemblance between him and Colter. Colter would probably be his father’s clone in a few decades. But there was a distinct difference between them. One that held a hell of a lot more weight in my eyes. Colter, as the president’s son, could have had anything while doing nothing, and yet he was one of the best ardents in our division.
President Valera began moving, his hand still on Seth’s shoulder so my brother was dragged along with him. The various personnel were forced to drop what they were doing and step aside as the group cut through the crowd. Too late, I realized I was left standing in the middle of their path, forcing Valera to hesitate. He stared down at me, a small frown pursing his lips.
Seth cleared his throat and took a quick step forward. “My brother. Torrin. He’s a boneforger and inventor for the corporation.”
“Ah, of course. I’ve heard good things.” His attention slid right past me, his words nothing but inoffensive office-speak, and he started to walk again. After only a couple steps, he paused and looked back at Seth, real recognition behind his pupils this time. “My son speaks highly of your brother. In fact, the Valera Conglomerate believes his talents are wasted in his current duties.” Looking back at a woman in a crisp suit, he added, “Todd Gray is to be promoted to the active rift roster, immediately. Assign him to Colter’s team.”
Wait… Todd? Does he mean me?
The woman began to scribble a note on her readied clipboard as Seth and I ogled the president. Seeming not to notice, Valera gave Seth a smile like he’d just done him a huge favor. “Keep up the good work, Seth.” He nodded my way. “Todd.” His entourage moved away, leaving my brother and me momentarily alone among the crowd.
“Come on, let’s go,” Seth said, his face an impassive mask but his voice rough with anger. He didn’t wait for me before stalking toward the rift.
Suddenly bone-achingly tired and a little punch drunk from the last few seconds, I followed him to the line forming at the staircase that led back out to civilization. President Valera had promoted me, personally. It should have been a huge honor, but it was pretty obvious the man didn’t actually know anything about me. Hell, he’d called me Todd.
Still, I wasn’t exactly unhappy about it, even if this promotion was nothing more than an off-handed consolation to my brother. Maybe it wasn’t how I wanted it to happen, but it is what I’d been working toward.
Isn’t it? I asked myself, second-guessing every thought and emotion.
“Torrin.”
A strong hand grabbed my wrist, and I instinctively jerked free, only to realize that it was just Seth. The line ahead of us had dwindled. It was our turn.
Without any outward reaction, Seth ushered me ahead of him on the stairs.
When I stepped into the portal’s golden light, my body tensed automatically. I really friggin’ hated this part.
The golden light resisted me, and I had to force my way through it. My ears popped and a shrill ring drowned out everything else. The overall sensation reminded me of changing air pressure in a plane cabin—except the discomfort happened all at once, like the craft had dropped a thousand feet in two seconds.
When I finally stepped into the outside world, I released the breath I’d been holding. The ardents ahead of me shuddered, shaking off the experience, and as the ringing in my ears faded, I couldn’t help but do the same.
I looked over my shoulder as Seth walked through, but his face was as hard and unreadable as a mask of dead veilgator scales.
Our line continued moving, and my brother took the lead again, heading down the steps and into the bustling chaos of the construction zone surrounding the newly formed rift.
We were in the middle of a decimated suburbia. Beyond the cluster of work trucks and gathered ardents, flattened houses littered the surrounding neighborhoods. Nothing much remained besides piles of rubble, skeletal frames jutting out through collapsed rooftops, and mounds of broken drywall.
With the high raden density of this area, too many rifts had opened for it to remain classified as a safe zone. The locals had evacuated years ago, and the military had moved in.
There was even more activity out here than there’d been inside the rift. The hum of conversation mingled with the clatter of metal on metal. Sparks fizzed overhead, and I reflexively ducked as I spotted scaffolding going up around the glowing golden hole in space. On the raised platform, two men wearing welding masks worked on a metal piping, shooting more sparks into the air.
“I swear, these guys get faster every raid.” One of the ardents behind us stopped to look up at the structure.
His buddy shrugged and kept walking. “With how many rifts are popping out of God’s asshole these days, they’re getting plenty of practice.”
Crass but true.
Left unchecked, the rifts continued to slowly widen, and the rate at which they vomited out raden and parabeasts grew exponentially, even terraforming the landscape if enough escaped. The first ones had been the hardest, since it had taken time for the world’s governments to formulate a response…
The thought made me vaguely queasy, and I shrank back from it as distant memories swirled, just beneath the surface of conscious thought. Instead of focusing on these memories and trying to draw them to the surface, I focused on the construction above.
Sealing them quickly prevented attacks, but it also limited the amount of raden that leaked out into our atmosphere.
The marketing guys, of course, hadn’t missed the chance to build on public support for the raids; the monoliths raised to close the rifts almost always featured statues of powerful ardents who had made their name in the industry, even if they hadn’t done so at that specific site.
“Keep up,” Seth said, his super senses somehow detecting that I was dragging my feet.
Too tired and confused to muster any sort of snappy retort, I just followed him through the crowds lingering around dozens of food trucks and trailers. His long strides carried him quickly through the cluster of water stations and piles of trash bags, fast enough that I had to run behind him at a wheezing jog.
More butchered parabeast parts lay in sorted piles along the broken asphalt. A beast merchant stood behind them, wiping one hand on a bloodstained apron as he signed a paper with the other. A man in aviators inspected the signature, then handed over a briefcase. The two shook hands, sealing their deal.
A line of ardents and construction workers queued by a food truck as a thin, grinning woman offered the man at the front three folded tacos on a paper plate. As he took them, he said something that got a laugh from his fellow ardents, but the woman only rolled her eyes and called out, “Next!”
Piles of rubble and discarded tires marked the edge of the work zone. Beyond that were rows of jeeps and trucks parked on the only good stretch of road left in this area. Seth tugged his key fob out of his pocket, and the lights on his jeep flashed.
“Get in,” he said, yanking open the driver’s side door.
I let out a grunt and opened the passenger door, only for a filthy towel to hit me in the face.
“Don’t get blood on my car.”
“I’m cleaner than this towel,” I retorted, though I still set the grime-encrusted towel across the seat.
Our doors slammed, muffling the chaos outside—along with the distractions that kept me from pondering my whirlwind day. Even Seth’s lecturing would have been better than sitting quietly with my thoughts, but I didn't have the energy to break the silence myself.
Jace carved through the crowd a few minutes later and hopped in the back with a chipper, “Vámonos, amigos.” The jeep lurched as Seth hit the gas. The suburban ruins sped past, and my eyes slipped out of focus as I curled in on myself, increasingly irritable and exasperated.
Seth steered the jeep around a fallen streetlight, bumping over a shattered curb before returning to the asphalt. He then dodged a deep crack that ran for twenty feet right down the center of the road, cordoned off with bright orange cones and tattered yellow caution tape.
In the rearview mirror, Jace looked half asleep, arms crossed over his chest, head tipped back. Stitches made a scarecrow smile on his neck. I cast a side-eye Seth’s way, but he was staring straight ahead, stoic. No furtive glances in my direction. No fidgeting with the frayed seam on the steering wheel. No hint that he had anything on his mind, except for his customary slight frown.
“Nadya from the corporate office got back to me,” he said, catching me off guard. “There’s a secretary position opening up. I know what President Valera said, but you—”
“No,” I cut in coolly. Flicking my gaze off Seth, I caught Jace peeking through one eye in the back.
“The pay wouldn’t be as much, but it’s safe, steady work. And there would be—”
“Nope.” My fingers tapped against the molded plastic armrest.
Seth was quiet for a minute, eyes still locked on the road. “You can’t accept this ‘promotion.’ Take the secretary job.”
“You’re the one obsessed with the idea. Why don’t you go be some pressed suit’s coffee-fetcher.”
“If you take this promotion, a half-dead veilgator will be the least of your problems,” he answered, flatter than the ruined road.
“You say that like any of this was my fault.”
“Promotion?” Jace sat forward, a hand on both our backrests.
Seth’s fingers squeezed the wheel, ignoring Jace, his scowl still radiating my way. “You shouldn’t have put yourself in that situation to begin with. Now you want to make it worse by going into live rifts?”
I chuckled darkly, leaning my head against the cool glass of the window and closing my eyes. “If you’re disappointed, that’s more your problem than mine.”
I felt my brother’s glare burn into my cheek. “You’re investing time and energy into something you’ll never succeed in without raden.”
I straightened and twisted toward him wearing a wry, cold grin to mask my grinding teeth. “You know… when Matthew or Nathan tell me I’ll never amount to anything without raden, I don’t give a shit. They don’t know me.”
A muscle tensed in Seth’s jaw, chewing on his thoughts.
Jace cleared his throat. “Hey, I’m out of the loop here. Someone want to fill me in?”
“Apparently, even though Seth knows damned well that I work, train, and study twice as hard as anyone, he doesn’t think I deserve the promotion President Valera offered me today—doesn’t think I can handle an active rift,” I said, the words all coming out on a single angry breath. “Isn’t that right, big brother?”
“Whoa, the head honcho promoted you himself?” Jace asked, a little too chipper as he nudged my shoulder. “Impressive.”
“Valera knows nothing about your… circumstances,” Seth cut in. “He didn’t even know your name. He won’t remember anything about that so-called promotion, or you, tomorrow.”
I jabbed a finger down on the center console. “I’m not blind to the fact that this promotion is bullshit, but it’s still a chance. Being a boneforger is what I want. Stop trying to force your low expectations on me.”
Seth swallowed, hands fidgeting at the wheel, and I thought I spied the tiniest tinge of remorse in his narrowed eyes.
Jace’s face hovered between us for a moment, mouth twisted in a pensive look. In the end, he said nothing, just gave our seats a few commiserating slaps and settled into the back. He was used to our arguments, and he only ever stepped in to act as mediator—or maybe referee.
I stared outside as the suburban ruins ended and civilization began. The bumpy asphalt eased into smooth, well-maintained roads, and a row of tidy townhouses lined the street. Ahead of us, the skyline was an uneven ridge of high-rises flanked by twin mountain ranges, Ojai City spilling out to fill the basin between them. In the fading day, lights began to blink to life all over the valley.
The jeep turned left, away from downtown and toward the ardent district closer to the eastern mountains.
Seth let out a sharp, impatient snort and slammed the brakes. My body shot forward, seatbelt biting my shoulder. I winced and looked up to see a field of red brake lights. Dozens of people marched through the streets waving picket signs, obstructing traffic.
“Damn it,” I groaned. “Again?”
“Nutjobs,” Jace grumbled, lounging like he might return to his nap.
Seth grabbed the gearshift and looked over his shoulder, but his frown deepened at the cars already queueing behind us.
We were stuck until the protest ended or was broken up.
A blonde woman dressed in black yoga pants and a bright pink jacket walked the dotted lines between the now-parked cars as more people filtered through the standstill traffic after her. She held a bullhorn to her mouth and thrust her other fist high above her head. The muffled chanting of the growing throng seeped through the jeep’s windows.
“Keep the rifts open!” Her amplified voice cut through the city noise.
“Open rifts, free raden!” her fellow protestors chanted back, growing louder as they came closer.
“She wouldn’t say that if she’d ever been inside one,” I muttered.
Seth shifted the car into park. “So you can see her recklessness but not your own?”
“You know, I think I’ll walk home,” I said, mimicking my brother’s flat tones.
I opened the car door and winced as the muffled shouts became a thunderous roar. I waded into the crowd, going against the flow of foot traffic.
“Open rifts, free raden!”
I bent my head and focused on my feet as I wove through the protestors, their chants blending, snippets leaping out at me.
“…cancer rates are down seventy percent…”
“…but our government hoards power, just like the others…”
“The raden makes us stronger!” a protester shouted as he bumped into me. Turning, he pressed a paper against my chest, his wide eyes meeting mine with a pleading intensity. “We’re healthier for it, and it’s our right to access as much of it as we can!”
“Then get lost in there!” I tossed away the crumpled flier. “Though we both know you’re not about to do that.”
The protester flushed, lips working like a fish. He had no real rebuttal.
The governments of the world couldn’t yet predict the long-term ramifications of prolonged exposure to the rifts’ radiation. A lot of that research had been classified above my clearance, but from what I saw at the rifts, it was pretty clear they were working around the clock to prevent a worst-case scenario.
There was a reason every major city had prioritized building nuclear bunkers, even if none of them wanted to admit it to the public, but nuance or risk didn’t matter to these protesters. They saw what they wanted to see, just like everyone else.
“Hey, Torrin, wait up,” Jace’s voice called. I turned to see him easily cut through the crowd, reforming the flow of traffic like a dam.
I shoved my hands in my pockets, the denim now stiff with dried parabeast blood, and walked on, but of course he caught up with me.
“Seth send you to babysit me?”
“No.”
“Just thought you’d stretch your legs after a full workday on your feet?”
Rather than volley a joke, he caught my elbow and fixed me with a brotherly smile. “You really think Seth sees you as a helpless kid, huh?”
I scoffed. “Of course, he does.”
“He doesn’t. I’m serious.”
“So am I.” I slipped out of his casual grip. “He doesn’t think I can do anything. He phrases it like he’s protecting me, and sure, that’s genuinely how he views it, but he’s not that much different from anyone else who calls me a Red. Not really.”
“You’re wrong,” said Jace, so low I almost didn’t catch it over the nonsense chanting.
I sighed, resisting the urge to roll my eyes. Mediator or not, when it came down to it, Jace was almost always on Seth’s side. I did not want to have this conversation, so I sped up, hoping that with all the noise and the jostling of the crowd, he’d give up trying to talk to me.
In the distance, rising above even the tallest of the surrounding skyscrapers, the Lightbridge Towers glowed with the last burnt orange light of the setting sun. The rift hovering between the two roofs wavered like a mirage, the constant spinning of its unique containment ring just a blur from this distance. I stared up at the majestic buildings where I’d learned to boneforge.
My first contribution there had been discovering the processing method for the muscle sinew now used as under armor. I hadn’t even cared that I wasn’t given credit. The excitement in the ardents’ faces as the prototype withstood a blow from a reinforced sword had solidified my dream career path.
Bubbling frustration made me snap at Jace. “If I’m wrong about Seth, then why won’t he just let me take this promotion in peace? He knows what I want to do with my life. I’ve told him I need first-hand experience, to learn what you guys need in the heat of battle.”
To succeed without raden, I needed to know what ardents had access to in there, how fast different parabeast corpses decayed, and the most ideal point for harvesting. Cleaning up after the raids had been my foot in the door. Now, after applying for months, I would have the opportunity to experience the raids as they happened.
Jace was quiet as we waited for the light to turn at the last crosswalk before we entered the ardent district. The cars had started moving again, the protestors scattering with the dying daylight. Once on familiar streets, my feet moved on autopilot. The steady buzz of conversation blended with the occasional chime and ding of the dozens of stalls in the sector’s night market, but I barely looked up. Just like the rest of Ojai, the night market never changed.
“Do you remember when you’d try and hide on lake days?” Jace asked suddenly, over the sizzling of frying food.
I hunched my shoulders. “Yeah. So? I was like seven.”
We’d been at the orphanage for a few years then. Long enough for the world to find a new rhythm after the chaos of the first rift appearances. The people who ran the place had decided to cart us to a nearby lake every Saturday in the summers and let us run wild. I usually sat on the bus or in the field far from the bank. To me, the water was a dark hole. I didn’t like dark places, didn’t like not being able to see what might be lurking under there. It had been almost four years since our parents died, but I’d still conjured fanged mouths and yellow eyes in every shadowy recess.
“Remember what got you over it?” The upward slant of Jace’s crooked grin said he knew I did.
“Fishing.”
Actually, it was more about making better and better poles, then making elaborate, life-like lures. To test out my creations, I had to start getting in the rowboat, and then eventually, when I’d caught enough perfectly normal fish in the lake, I’d decided going for a swim might not be so bad.
“And who got you into fishing?” coaxed Jace, making an exasperated “spit it out” gesture with his hand.
“Seth,” I admitted. “What’s your point?”
Jace’s grin turned sly. “How’d he get you into fishing?”
I stretched my mind back to that sweltering bus seat, picking at a loose thread on my already threadbare swim trunks. Seth had marched inside with two poles. Bet you can’t catch a fish.
“He told me I couldn’t do it,” I said around a smirk.
“Exactly.”
I narrowed my eyes at Jace, his point clicking into place. “That’s not what he’s doing now. He’s not challenging me; he really doesn’t want me in the rifts. At all. He wants me to take a desk job.”
“True. Going into live rifts is a hell of a lot more dangerous than a lake. He’s worried. But my point is that he’s never coddled you. You’re convinced he thinks you’re incompetent or something, but that’s not true.”
I huffed, trying to loosen the knot in my chest. “So, great, he doesn’t think I’m a bungling idiot, but ever since we started working for the Conglomerate, he’s been hung up on my limitations, and he never acknowledges my strengths.”
“He’s always known you’re capable. That’s why he pushes.”
I bit the inside of my lip, wanting to believe it. But the Seth who’d challenged me into the lake hadn’t been hung up on my lack of raden. That Seth had actually smiled every now and then, praised me every once in a while. “Maybe he used to,” I said, avoiding Jace’s eye. “But, that was the old Seth. He hasn’t been that guy in years.”
Jace sighed. “Seth is who the world made him become. But he’s still Seth.”
I barely contained an eye roll. “Jesus, maybe you should have made your move and married Seth before Hanna came along.”
Laughter echoed from a pub to our left, drowning Jace’s snort. Through the open door, I could just see the burly men drinking at the bar, their joyful outburst crinkling their eyes. Even outside the ardent sector, I’d have known their occupations by the enormous muscles straining against their shirts, still stained with dried blood.
The pub’s mounted TVs showed various reporters all standing in front of roughly the same shimmering, silvery skyline I’d seen broadcast countless times over the past few months. The UN’s new flying city was finally taking off.
I stopped in my tracks, making Jace look around, and watched. The city, which would house the headquarters of the UN's new branch, the Global Defense Division, expanded beyond the edges of the screen even though it lay miles behind the line of reporter vans. With every passing second, more of its soaring skyscrapers disappeared as the city began to rise. Raden crackled like streaks of lightning around its perimeter as the resin that powered it fed off each other and the raden thrumming through the atmosphere. Beneath the untouched streets and the massive foundation, a maze of silver piping fueled the maiden flight, golden raden humming through them. If all went to plan, the city would never touch down again.
“Holy shit, they really pulled it off,” I said, but Jace wasn’t looking at me. He was holding up a hand to one of the ardents who’d swiveled around on her stool and was eyeing him while toying with the cocktail straw in her mouth.
I watched Jace slowly remember I was with him. He looked at me over his shoulder. “Hey—”
“Go ahead. I’m fine.”
“You’re sure? It’s still a long walk from here.”
Tell me about it. It was at least an hour. But I had wanted to be alone. “Yeah. I’ll take the train the rest of the way.”
I wouldn’t, though. I didn’t want to get home just yet.
With a final goodbye, I trudged onward.
Hundreds of people moved past me, all in more of a hurry than me—a stream of humanity flowing beneath the multi-colored lights of the many screens and neon signs hanging from the high-rises on either side of the walkway.
I mulled over Jace's words, tried to let them make me feel better, but I kept sticking on the last thing he'd said about Seth. Seth is who the world made him become.
That sat wrong in my gut. It twisted. Yet, I couldn’t deny the truth of it, the ugly reality. We lived in an era where the world wasn’t entirely our own anymore, and we barely understood the invaders. People had to adapt and do it quickly. Maybe to survive, I also had to become who the world wanted.
My gaze fell back down to my dirty and bloodied hands. They clenched into fists. My eyes, heavy and stinging, closed. I couldn’t help but wonder if Seth had a point. If, just maybe, I was being reckless and stubborn.
Despite the relentless hours and immense creative energy I’d poured into boneforging—and being taken seriously as one—maybe I didn’t belong in the rifts after all. Maybe this off-hand promotion was, in fact, proof that Seth was right. President Valera didn’t care that this haphazard promotion could get me killed.
I opened my eyes and started walking again. Maybe I should just keep my head down and know my place…
“Our place…”
The words drifted back through the years unexpectedly, dropping me down into that ring of uncomfortable chairs. “Our place is right where we are. This is how civilization began! With a group of… of ordinary people.”
The way the man leading the support group had stumbled over his own words stuck with me more than the words themselves. If I’d learned anything from being around other Reds, it was that none of them believed that “we’re just as good in our own way” bullshit.
Know my place…
The thought made me angry. Rather than wallow, I preferred to burn my anger like fuel for all the late nights and early mornings I put in. I had to. Without raden, I needed tenacity, creativity, a burning sense of purpose. I would make something that was going to change this world. Something brilliant. Something unrivaled and unquestionably needed.
Between one breath and the next, fatigue swallowed my anger. The dried veilgator blood was peeling up from my skin, leaving it raw and red, and my ruined clothes were starting to chafe.
After the first ten minutes or so, my solo walk didn’t feel so liberating anymore, but I powered on until I reached the revolving doors of the high-rise apartment building I called home. Craning my neck, I stared up at the lightning rod at the very top: a single red light briefly flashed in the night sky.
Steeling myself, I walked through the rotating doors and across the lobby, past the dozens of mailboxes on the right wall, toward the row of elevators at the back. I ignored the receptionist behind the main desk, who scrunched her nose in disgust at my state, and punched a button.
I was all too aware of how much worse I smelled after hours of walking.
Thankfully it was late, and the opening elevator stood vacant. As the doors closed and the machinery began to whir, I leaned against the rear wall and shut my eyes. My chest tightened with nerves, and there was a stiff knot in my neck that wouldn’t release.
Too soon, the elevator slowed to a stop. I stalked toward the third door on the left.
Damn. I’d left my pack, and the keys inside, in Seth’s jeep.
Before I could knock, the apartment door flung open. Hanna, Seth’s wife, stood in the entryway of our shared apartment, her brows pinched with worry. She cradled her heavily pregnant belly with one hand and held the doorknob with the other as she studied my face.
“You know, five more minutes and you’d have been responsible for making a pregnant lady waddle through the streets at night to look for you.” She got a whiff and pulled a face. “I guess I could have sniffed you out pretty quick, at least.”
“Sorry.” My shoulders relaxed, and I offered her a weak smile. “You shouldn't have waited up for me, though.”
“Apology accepted,” she said with a sagely nod as she stepped aside.
A fat ginger cat trotted down the hallway as I entered and slipped between my legs, rubbing against my ankles as he sniffed at the bloodstains on my pants. I scooped him into my arms, and he purred as he licked the dried remnants on my sleeve.
“Stop eating my shirt, Milo. That’s gross.”
“I made you some dinner.” Hanna shut the door behind me. “It’s cold, but it’s something. I know you probably haven’t eaten all day.”
She shuffled down the hallway, one hand on the small of her back, and I followed her to the kitchen. Blue light flickered across the dark floor as we passed the living room, and I caught the tail end of a muted news broadcast about the monolith being built around the rift Seth and I had left earlier that evening. I paused, hands in my pockets as I watched the recorded clip of the scaffolding going up in the daylight, but it quickly switched to a commercial.
As I joined Hanna in the kitchen, a tea kettle whistled. She grabbed a potholder off the counter and lifted the kettle off the gas range, pouring the boiling water into a simple teacup with a cherry blossom painted along the side. The scent of jasmine wafted up with the steam.
Milo jumped out of my hands and landed deftly on the floor before trotting over to his food bowl against the kitchen wall.
“Hanna, please sit down. You shouldn’t be on your feet.”
She pursed her lips and waved away my concern. “I can lift a teapot, Torrin. If you’re so concerned, you can grab your plate from the fridge and heat it.”
“I’m not hungry,” I lied.
She raised an eyebrow. “And you’re not just saying that because you want to go to bed and avoid a confrontation with Seth over what happened today?”
I felt my ears turn red. “You already heard?”
“Yes, I did, although I’m not sure if I’m supposed to congratulate you or console you.”
“Or you could just scold my ass like Seth did.”
“Language,” Hanna chided gently.
“Sorry, little bean,” I told the baby. “I meant to say tushy.”
“And here I was wondering why you’ve never brought a girl back home…” Hanna rolled her eyes.
“They're all too intimidated by my pursuit of excellence,” I quipped before giving her a tired smile. “But really, I think I’m just going to turn in early. Thank you, though.”
Hanna sighed and returned the kettle to the stove. She lifted the teacup to her face and watched me over the brim.
I looked away. I didn’t want to risk seeing the pity on her face.
“Don’t stay mad at Seth,” she said quietly. “You know that what he says is out of love.”
Though I was in the process of turning to leave, I paused to hear her out.
“And even if he comes off as callous and blunt, he really does care.” She winced as she shifted her weight and set her free hand on her belly. “He just doesn’t know how to tell you. He never knows what to say. You know how he is with emotion.”
She smiled, and her eyes lost focus. “I mean, for goodness sake, he proposed to me with all the romance of putting on a pair of socks.” Huffing, she gave a little shake of her head. “He’s never been one for words or feelings, Torrin. You know that.”
I wanted to ask her why everyone was so ready to tell me what my brother felt except Seth himself, but I couldn’t bring myself to argue with her. Instead, I answered simply, “Yeah.”
“Well, if you won’t eat, at least go shower.” She grimaced. “I don’t even know how you can smell that bad.”
“Through hard work and dedication,” I said dryly, pumping my fist. “Good night, Hanna.”
“Good night,” she said into her teacup.
Milo’s low purr rumbled through the kitchen as I headed for my room. I set my hand on the doorknob, hesitating as I glanced at Seth and Hanna’s closed bedroom door at the far end of the hall.
You shouldn’t have put yourself in that situation, Seth’s voice rang in my head.
My grip on the doorknob tightened.
This is the perfect opportunity to test your resolve, Colter’s voice countered. Look death in the eye. Prove to everyone—especially yourself—that you can keep a cool head even in the thick of it.
Colter understood. Better than Seth did, anyway. And he was right.
I shoved my way into my room and shut the door behind me. Before heading into my bathroom to clean up, I sat down in front of my tiny writing desk and flipped open my notebook.
It was filled with notes and scribbles: my formulas for cleaning solvents, designs for armor and weapon improvements, drawings of parabeasts, and a hundred other ideas I hadn’t tested yet.
Instead of accomplishment, I only saw how people would react when they found out that the developer behind these ideas wasn’t even capable of harnessing the raden necessary to use them.
But I refused to be defined by my lack of raden. It didn’t matter that I didn’t glow with radiation or that I’d never grow enough to look them dead in the eye. When I was done, they’d see me.
-----
TurtleMe Team:
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Comments
Ernest
Using "Jesus" as a curse word is unnecessary. But interesting to see where this story is going
VincentP
You really love the idea of flying cities🤣. This family dynamic is interesting, though. Sure, it's not terribly original to see the nerdy brother constantly comparing himself with the cool, successful one, but it always works, and the fact that the older brother is very similar to Arthur is a nice touch.
Xavier Rucker
FIRST
