Ember and Frost

  AUSHEN

  I stacked the last box and wiped the sweat from my forehead, pushing aside my cloud-colored bangs. The stench of demoryn flesh hung heavy in the air, a familiar perfume that clung to my clothes and hair. Around me, coolers hummed, powered by generators siphoning gas from the abandoned cars that littered this so-called civilization.

  This was my life on the Second Index. Labor laws weren't a priority for the High Authority; they cared more about control and forcing everyone into their new economy. So for me, it was just another day with bloody hands in the back of a meat stand. Another day in the sweatshops.

  I peeked out front around the tarp to look for Gus, an old surly man who ran the meat stand, who can usually be found shouting belligerently at customers instead of negotiating like a normal person.

  As expected, I heard him shout “Twenty-six units, that’s my final offer!” He tossed a cloth pouch on the counter and watched it land with a splat on the solid wood. The customer was an old man with glasses set upon a face of utter disapproval; he slammed down several what looked like plastic chips and stalked off with the bag of meat. I walked up to Gus to notify him of the completion of my task and asked for my compensation.

  “Can’t you see I’m busy, boy? I ought to cut your fingers off and put them on the menu.”

  “Of course, sorry Gus,” I said quickly and rushed to the back with my head down.

  Mind you, I’m not afraid of Gus, he isn’t a threat to me in the slightest. The issue with overpowering him physically is that I would have to reveal my secret, which in turn would result in me being discovered by the Anomaly Inspection Division. Already Gus is suspicious of why the meat is cooler than it was before I started working for him, so it’s best I don’t get confrontational with him.

  I sit down on one of the meat boxes staring at my white, stained sneakers and attempt to rub the stains from the red striped sleeves of my hoodie, thankfully it’s mostly black, thus making it invulnerable to most stains. The only issue is that the blood of most demoryns is made up of significantly different compounds than that of natural organisms, making it easier for it to react with other materials. It’d be a pain to have to spend money to replace my clothes if they were damaged.

  Speaking of which, I found myself busy thinking about how I’m getting tonight’s payment without having to wait for Gus to finish outside until later in the day. Partway into my contemplation it occurred to me that I’d zoned out and hadn’t picked up on the noise from the front. When the sound of several voices yelling registers in my ears and my neurodivergent brain, I pull back the tarp and peer around the right side of the makeshift wall.

  The sight wouldn’t normally be much to remark on, just a few people arguing at one of the stands across from ours. A group of three people stood near the Weapons and Defense Administration, operated by the High Authority and ran part-time by designated civilians with experience in weapon management. I moved to the exit of the Meat Stand and crossed the path to the defense stand so I could hear better.

  “…Don’t have proof that you own them. With no registry number, any missing weapons will be repossessed and placed on the market. These Items already have a reservation placed on them.”

  The woman who spoke wore tactical gear and a combat visor, with a pistol strapped to her hip. Two guards stood behind her, clad in body armor and helmets, with rifles slung on their backs. I assume she’s the current resident in charge of managing the stand and the guards are officially stationed by the High Authority, judging by the emblems on their shoulder pads.

  “Who is it that placed the reservation,” the tall one in the robe spoke evenly.

  “That would be me,” Gus broke through the crowd, grinning.

  “This guy,” scoffed the boy in the black.

  Gus showed the lady his ticket with the registry numbers on it and she began handing him assorted items. A scythe, a huge sword, a retractable pickaxe, a leather bag, and a black and blue hoodie. I can’t imagine why some of those would be found in an armory, but of course, nearly everything down here has hidden properties, so I guess I couldn’t be too surprised.

  Gus began waddling back to his stand, the three weirdos trailed behind him until he went behind the counter of the meat shack. They continued arguing with him from outside while I ducked back behind the tarp to avoid being seen.

  “You’re wasting my time,” Blue Hair said as he stuck out his hand. The hoodie flew at him and seemed to liquify, pooling across his hand and body until it solidified back into a normal-looking piece of clothing.

  “Now the rest,” said the one in the crown, pointing two daggers at Gus’s face.

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  “No, I don’t think that’s gonna happen,” Gus responded slyly, “and if you don’t want me to alert the soldiers or have you reported to the High Authority, I suggest you put away the cute little knives.”

  Gus reached under his counter to retrieve a twelve-inch cleaver and flung it into the wood surface. He leaned against the counter and sneered at the three, waiting for a reaction. I moved up behind the counter, allowing myself a better look at the person with the daggers. That was definitely the one who killed my father. I recognized these people from the island. It had been a while since Charomenift, but these people were the echoes I was with back then.

  “Can I kill him?” the man in black asked the one with the daggers. Sablune was the same as I remembered. Violent and impatient.

  “Restrain yourself, Blu,” she said, not taking her eyes off Gus. Fadabiea was naturally trying to keep things clean. But she’d be even more destructive than Sablune if she decided she wouldn’t get anywhere by talking.

  “I’ll ask one more time, get lost, or I’ll cut you to pieces,” Gus threatened once more.

  “I don’t think threatening my fiancée is a smart decision,” said the tall one. Aerix Alti-Intento. They were usually pacifistic, but somehow they always got roped into the Sablune and Bitha show.

  “Aerix, please,” pleaded Fadabiea in a strained tone.

  At that moment, Gus lost patience and snatched up his butcher knife and sent it flying at Aerix. Unexpectedly, they didn’t move a muscle. Instead, there was a sound of metal on metal as a knife knocked the cleaver out of the air. The butcher stood there, shocked at the speed of the blade, and reached under the counter again for another weapon.

  “Fadabiea, NOW!” Sablune shouted.

  Dangerously fast, Fadabiea struck out with her remaining knife and Gus rocked back. Which was unnecessary because the blade drove into a cutting board. I reacted without thinking, I found myself standing atop the counter with my hand outstretched, the slab of wood blocking its path.

  “You killed my father,” I glared at them.

  “Aushen!” Fadabiea blurted in surprise.

  It was only brief, but it was there. A slideshow of the past on Charomenift Island that kept the four of us inexorably linked. A blade brought down on my head. Acedani asking me to help him build Little Roma. Me on the ground with my hands still lit like candles and Fadabiea across from me, impressed but also shocked by the damage I had done.

  “Yes, but now with a grudge to hold,” I said irritably, and lash out with my foot, driving it into Fadabiea’s face.

  “ONYX!” shouted Aerix.

  I sense movement behind me and turn to defend myself, igniting a hand with Concept-fueled flames only to see Aerix retrieve the weapons of the three echoes.

  The scythe flies into Fadabiea’s hand, she wipes her face with her hand and glares at me. I let the dagger and board fall from my hand and assess Aerix’s weapons. They had the bag slung over their shoulder and held a pickaxe in their hand, the claymore nowhere to be found.

  Gus’s voice broke through the commotion, “So you’re one of those magic freaks too? I thought as much with the meat and all.”

  Using that distraction as an opportunity, Sablune darts forward, and black-tipped claws rake across my face.

  I stumble back and drop from the counter as Aerix moves towards me with a follow-up strike that I barely manage to spin around. They blow by me, and I blast them in the back of the head with fire, causing them to faceplant into the concrete floor. Normally I would have weapons of my own to use but I keep them stashed at my safe house.

  Sablune stood there, unmoving, and unconcerned with the battle, but eyeing the crowd gathering around us instead.

  A few people begin whispering among themselves, I pick up on bits of their conversations. “Freaks… Anomalies... Alert the AID… Not safe…”

  “I’m just gonna finish you off and get it over with. I let you live once already, and now you’re in my way again.” Sablune strode over to me, and his odd outerwear got even stranger. The emblems along his sleeve peeled off, flying to his hands, and interlocking with other pieces of fabric until he had a sharp blade formed around his arm, just like before. All those years ago.

  Anticipating his next move, I tossed a blanket of fire at him, then attempt to sidestep his impending strike only to find my feet wrapped in coalesced stone. I spot Aerix and they shoot me a knowing smile, their hand tightens into a fist, and I feel the pressure on my feet increase.

  Sablune savored the moment, letting his blade drag across the ground, his other hand raised, claws extended. His teeth went from human-shaped to pointed and razor-sharp, matching the malice in his eyes.

  Out of instinct, panic erupts inside me, and I reveal my ace up the sleeve. A wall of ice slams into Sablune, causing him to stumble back and summon a shield on his second arm, defending him from the impact of compact frost.

  I only ever used fire when I fought Sablune; the others I was on the island with didn’t know I possessed Ice Concepts.

  “Yes, those four, there,” Gus said to the guards that were approaching.

  “We’ve got three class-one frequencies and a single class-two, two of four currently engaged,” the soldiers began discussing amongst themselves, “Assessing frequency types, it appears we have two reflections and two three-plus groupings. Preparing countermeasures based on elemental class.”

  Uh oh, not good. Not good in the slightest. I shoot ice at my feet and melt it down, letting the water seep into the cracks of the rocks, the water freezes again, and it expands, allowing me to tear my feet from the ground. I send a wave of ice at the crowd and wall them off, and wheel on the other three frantically.

  “Not to be cliché, but if you want to make it out of here, I suggest you come with me,” I point in the opposite direction of the wall of ice and head in that direction without bothering to see if the others follow. “Though you wouldn’t have known it back then, I’m the Son of Two Houses. And that one,” I pointed at Fadabiea, “killed my dad.”