The Progeny of Gaea

The Last Progeny of Gaea

Gaelin stood staring at the monster of a man before him. Sweat beaded his brow and ran in rivulets down his temples, as he strained with everything in him to maintain the enclosure of roots he had trapped his opponent in.

The man pulled at the roots and the biceps of his massive arms tensed, as several thick veins popped up under the skin. “You can’t hold me forever you freak,” the man growled in a low, gravelly voice.

“If you’d chill the hell out and let me explain, you’d see we’re on the same side,” Gaelin panted. His legs quivered and he prayed it wasn’t visible to the man in front of him.

The man relaxed his grip on the root cage and peered towards the ground at Gaelin’s feet, then his gaze lifted to focus on Gaelin’s trembling legs.

Shit, Gaelin thought. The man looked up at him, grinning.

“Don’t feel bad boy. I smelled your exhaustion,” he said, tapping the side of his nose with a forefinger. Then his face took on a stern cast. “Hope you have more in the tank,” the man said as he stepped back. He bent his neck to the sides eliciting a series of loud popping sounds. “Here I come.”

With that, the man’s stance changed. He spread his feet, bending forward slightly, and pulled his arms to his sides as if he were about to hug himself.

In an instant, thick brown hair sprouted along the length of his beefy arms, which themselves grew in thickness to nearly three times what they were. His hands morphed into large paws, each tipped with dangerous looking black claws. The transformation stopped at his broad shoulders, but his face elongated at the mouth and nose to vaguely resemble a muzzle.

Gaelin noticed a pair of lengthened canines poking through the disturbing grin the man flashed him. He sensed a feral power emanating from the man, but small in portion. It felt familiar to him, and suddenly he realized that the man was a shift. Given the man’s inherent size, Gaelin estimated that the man was a shift that preferred bulky, powerful animals to channel.

“And you call me a freak?” Gaelin admonished the man. Gaelin would need more power to hold the man’s next attack, but he was running on fumes. It wasn’t that he didn’t have the power. He did. He could feel it, an ocean of power, roiling just beneath the surface of his subconscious, but he couldn’t touch a single portion of it. It had always been this way. A barrier existed within him, restricting him from using his true power unless faced with the direst of circumstances which generally involved Gaelin being in a near-death state. Though, it never kept him from trying.

Gaelin tried for his true power again now. His subconscious reached out, diving down towards the vast power only to hit the familiar mental block. He struck it with his mind, clawed at it, pleaded with it, and still no power came. He gave one more monumental effort and was met with the mental equivalent of being hit by a semi. Searing pain tore through his mind and instantly Gaelin saw stars wink into existence around him just before he collapsed to the ground.

Is that the sky, Gaelin pondered before realizing that he was lying flat on his back, looking up at the aged metal pipes of the factory as they branched out and split the sapphire expanse above him.

A husky chuckle and the sound of breaking tree limbs drifted over from somewhere in front of him and then a figure came to stand directly over Gaelin, the broad figure blocking out the bright sun.

“Not sure what you just did to yourself, but it looked pretty painful,” the man said, frowning down at Gaelin. The man’s face and arms had return to normal. Gaelin noticed his sleeves were missing from the shoulders down. “Alright,” the man said sternly, “on your feet. Let’s go.”

The man dragged Gaelin to his feet and Gaelin did his best not to vomit from the sloshing in his head. The man then turned Gaelin around and brought his wrists together, slapping a cold pair of handcuffs on them.

“A shift hiding in the middle of the police department, eh?” Gaelin inquired. “Doesn’t sound conducive to your current working arrangement.”

The man paused. “I’m not sure what a shift is, but if you’re referring to my—ability, well, that will just have to be our little secret.” The man shoved Gaelin forward several steps in the direction of an unmarked police cruiser.

“I guess that explains why you didn’t seem too surprised to see me use my power.” Gaelin thought aloud.

“I’m a vet, kid. You see it all in war.”

“Do me a favor,” Gaelin said as he stopped walking and turned to face the man. Gaelin was a few inches taller than the man, just over six feet, but with size on his side, the man possessed a much larger bearing. Gaelin noticed the officer’s name badge, Detective James O’Connor.

“I don’t do favors for criminals,” O’Connor said harshly before turning Gaelin back towards the car. “And last I checked, kidnapping was still a crime.”

Gaelin huffed with frustration. “I didn’t kidnap him. He was already here. I simply followed him,” he said hotly. He planted his feet again, causing O’Connor to run into Gaelin’s back. “Besides, do you see a kidnapped person anywhere?” Gaelin asked and awkwardly swept his cuffed hands around at the empty field around them.

O’Connor growled. “Stop like that again and I’ll carry you to the car.”

“Look,” Gaelin said with a raised voice, “I’ll get in the car. Just go check on the guy in there.” Gaelin reached out with his senses, sensing if the bender was still inside the rust bucket of a factory. He couldn’t sense the bender’s power any longer and he was positive the bender had already escaped. Yet, Gaelin still sensed a slight tingling on the edge of his senses. It had been there ever since he’d first arrived, yet despite the disappearance of the bender’s power, the tingling remained.

“He’s gone, in case you were wondering.” Gaelin added.

This caused O’Connor to stop. “How the hell do you know that?”

Gaelin smiled back. “That will just have to be my little secret,” he said, putting on his best shit-eating grin.

O’Connor snorted and turned his head towards the factory door before quickly turning back to Gaelin. He shuffled Gaelin into the back seat of the cruiser and then headed towards the factory, his gun already out of its holster and pointed at the door. He reached the door in several steps, pausing just long enough to call out, “Metro PD! If anyone is in there, respond!” before kicking in the factory door.

While O’Connor was wasting time searching for the already-gone bender, Gaelin focused on the handcuffs digging into his wrists and pinning his arms behind his back. Luckily, his lanky frame was very flexible. He leaned back in his seat while sliding his hands to rest just under his buttocks. He brought his legs to his chest and then in one quick motion slid his arms up and around his retracted legs. His shoulder popped once in protest, but now his hands were in front of him and resting comfortably in his lap.

Next, he focused on the metal links connecting the cuffs. He reached down into his soul, feeling for his power. He’d regained a small amount, but he was still exhausted from his struggle with O’Connor. It would have to be enough.

With disciplined focus, Gaelin spotted the center link and mentally pictured drawing all of the moisture from the air immediately surrounding the link. A dull headache began to throb in his temples and behind his eyes, but he ignored it. He had enough juice left for this. He had to. He was wasting precious time when he should have been out there finding the bender and tailing him back to his boss, the notorious criminal overlord known as the Drifter.

The Drifter was a figurehead in the underworld of what people referred to as the supernatural realm; supernatural meaning more than just plain-old, vanilla human. The Drifter led an organization of thugs named the Cain Conglomerate. He had a reputation for being ruthless, killing indiscriminately within his own circles, and lately, kidnapping young children that possessed an affinity to the supernatural.

Gaelin had decided to place himself directly in the Drifter’s path. Aside from the fact that kidnapping young children was a heinous crime, as a Progeny of Gaea, he would be expected to intervene.

Gaelin doubled down on his focus, rejecting the throbbing in his head and the exhaustion that seeped into the edges of his thoughts. Frost began to form on the outside of the metal link, growing thicker and spreading until several more links on either side of the middle one were coated in a thin layer of ice.

With a quick motion Gaelin pulled his wrists apart, the metal link snapping cleanly down the middle.

Gaelin breathed an exhausted sigh. Creating the point of cold was the difficult part. He had to toy with the molecules in the air to generate it. Now that it was in existence though, he could utilize it much more efficiently. He could feed the cold power and make it grow, and direct it should he choose to use it offensively. The only limitations were how much power he fed it and how long he continued to feed it.

Capturing the essence of the frost with his will, Gaelin placed the essence at the tip of his right forefinger. This didn’t require much power, as the source of the frost was on his wrist and it had only a short distance travel to his finger. Once that was finished, he touched his finger to the door handle and fed energy to the frost. Within seconds the frost spread to the handle and buried deep into the locking mechanism of the door.

When the lock was sufficiently frozen, Gaelin leaned back in his seat and kicked at the door, making sure to aim just below the handle. Once, twice, three times he kicked until the door burst open, spraying frozen bits of metal across the dusty ground.

Gaelin exited the car and glanced towards the factory door just as O’Connor reappeared. He was about to call out to the detective when a searing pain exploded in the back of his head.

The next thing Gaelin knew, he was face down in the dust, breathing in dirt and trying to figure out why it felt like a piece of his skull had just exploded.

“I’m sorry,” squeaked a tiny, feminine voice. “I’m sorry mister. They made me do it.”

Another voice chuckled, a deep baritone laugh. “Save the apologies Telia and get back under your mask.” The voice was silky and accented lightly with a British accent.

Mask, Gaelin thought. She must be a masker. That would explain why the bender’s power had disappeared when he had entered the factory. The revelation only solidified his suspicion that there was a hideout for the Cain Conglomerate here. Perhaps not the exact location of the Drifter himself, but at least there may be clues. The two newcomers must have already been inside, their presences hidden by the tiny masker. On-site security, more than likely. He mused on what their powers might be in between the spikes of pain that lanced through his thoughts.

Gaelin heard the shuffling of feet in the dust and the staccato footsteps of a person running.

As the running figure approached, he felt the tingling sensation return and assumed that the little masker had gone back under her veil.

“Metro PD! Drop your weapon and put your hands behind your head!” came O’Connor’s voice, gaining volume as he approached where Gaelin had fallen.

“Oh bother,” the baritone said. “I didn’t anticipate having to deal with the local authorities.” His tone was bored and drawn.

“I said drop it scumbag!” Shouted O’Connor.

“Well, I guess it can’t be helped. Dimitri, I hope you don’t mind ruining another pair of pants.” The Baritone said.

Another man, unseen to Gaelin, replied in a gravelly voice thick with a Russian accent. “Da. I do not mind.”

“Excellent,” the baritone purred. “And this place is in the middle of nowhere, so we shouldn’t be disturbed by anyone else. Interesting though,” the man paused, “I wonder how the officer managed to find this place.”

“He follow Progeny,” Dimitri said in broken English.

“Indeed,” the baritone mused aloud, then called out, “Officer, how is it you came to be here? Did you follow our mutual friend?” He kicked Gaelin lightly in the shin as he spoke.

“This is your last warning!” O’Connor said forcefully. “Drop the bat and put your hands behind your head.”

“Or what, Mister Policeman? You going to shoot both of us?” The baritone said with amusement.

Gaelin rolled to his back and leaned his head forward just enough to see what was going on. The limited movements caused his head and neck to protest in pain.

The man possessing the baritone voice threw down the bat and raised his hands, then took several steps towards O’Connor. He was as big as his voice implied, easily as bulky as O’Connor, but where O’Connor was stalky and of an average height, the baritone was at least six inches taller, giving the man an intimidating physique. He wore an impressive charcoal three-piece suit, obviously tailored to fit his size, with a white collared shirt underneath that was unbuttoned at the top. The entire façade made the man appear as if casual chic was his warmup before he brushed his teeth in the morning, and Gaelin felt intensely aware of his own dirty clothing.

Gaelin noticed that the other man, Dimitri he assumed, was as equally massive. Yet, where the baritone was sleek and styled with his hundred dollar haircut, Dimitri was a lesson in opposites, settling for a tattered pair of brown trousers and a dingy corduroy coat covering little of his bare, muscular chest. Dimitri also possessed a layer of hair over nearly every inch of his visible body and what little that remained on his head fell well past his shoulders.

The baritone took several more slow steps towards O’Connor causing the detective to tense and firm his firing stance.

“One more step and I will shoot you.” O’Connor said with conviction.

“You would kill me in cold blood? An innocent man?” The baritone said with mock concern.

“I don’t have to kill you. I can shoot out your kneecaps. And I highly doubt that you are innocent, Mister?” O’Connor questioned.

“You may call me Mister Fang,” said the robust baritone, giving a small bow at the waist. “Though, it matters little.”

O’Connor snorted. “And why is that, Mister Fang?” He asked, keeping his gun trained on Mr. Fang’s left knee.

“Because my good man, you won’t be leaving here alive,” said Mr. Fang with utter confidence. He winked at O’Connor before taking another step towards him.

A plume of fire blossomed at the tip of O’Connor’s gun as the shot boomed. From the sound of the shot and the size of O’Connor’s gun, Gaelin guessed he was using a .45 caliber weapon. In a normal person’s hands, the recoil would pull the gun upward, but O’Connor had little trouble keeping the gun level.

Mr. Fang’s knee exploded in a shower of gore. Ragged pieces of flesh hung around the ruined knee and the sight of exposed bone made Gaelin queasier than he already felt.

Mr. Fang grunted as his leg buckled, but before he fell he nimbly shifted his weight to his unmarred leg. A brief grimace of pain crossed his face, but was quickly replaced by his previous look of amused boredom.

“Tsk tsk tsk. That was truly uncalled for Mister Policeman. I was planning on granting you a quick death, but now I think Dimitri and I shall enjoy ourselves a bit.” As he spoke, the flesh around his wounded knee reknit itself in front of everyone’s eyes until the hole in his slacks revealed pristine flesh. Mr. Fang redistributed his weight back to his left leg and bounced up and down on it several times. He looked back at O’Connor with a smug expression. “Good as new, eh mate?”

“Damnit, not another one of you,” O’Connor muttered grimly. Not taking any chances, he adjusted his aim and fired twice more, intending to put two bullets through the center of Mr. Fang’s chest.

Dimitri blurred into motion, faster than Gaelin could follow. He was still dazed, and simply trying to follow the Russian’s movement caused Gaelin’s head to spin. The large Russian appeared again just in front of Mr. Fang, his own chest fully exposed to the incoming bullets.

Two neat holes appeared in Dimitri’s chest, just left of his sternum. For a normal person, the shots would’ve proven fatal, but Dimitri merely grunted at the impact. The holes quickly healed and he looked up at O’Connor with a feral grin full of pearly teeth that revealed a set of protruding canines. “Tickles,” he said through his grin.

Mr. Fang stepped up beside Dimitri, prompting a questioning look from the Russian. Mr. Fang nodded once and both men turned back towards O’Connor.

Gaelin suddenly felt a burst of power from both men, the likes of which caused his stomach to cringe. The power was dark and animalistic, slightly reminiscent of O’Connor’s power as a shift, but corrupted. He then realized what they were and silently admonished himself for not guessing it sooner.

Mr. Fang and Dimitri were werewolves.

Gaelin didn’t need to see their transformations to know what they were. Their flavor of power was easily recognizable to someone who had sensed it before. Werewolves were similar to shifts in that they used power to alter and enhance themselves to be more animalistic, but that was where the similarities ended. Unlike a shift, a werewolf, or any werebeast for that matter, didn’t channel the spirits of animals. The host body was shared between a mortal soul and something akin to a demonic presence. The dark entity chose an animalistic form to mimic, generally one of a predatory nature, and used that form to express its power.

The two must be powerful werebeasts as both healed quickly and were presumably able to transform at will.

Twin guttural howls pierced the air. Gaelin scrambled backwards towards the police car and crawled around to hide behind the side. He wasn’t afraid, but it was just common sense not to place yourself in close proximity to a werebeast, and that went quadruple for two. Besides, Gaelin was still exhausted from his previous fight and only now feeling somewhat normal after being struck in the head by Mr. Fang. He needed to recoup and come up with a plan.

Gaelin considered his options. He could leave. He could hotwire the car and leave O’Connor there, recuperate, and return when conditions favored him and when he regenerated his power. He grimaced at the thought. He liked O’Connor. Sure, the man was a shift in hiding who, only moments ago, had attempted to arrest him, but Gaelin figured that was only because the man was ignorant to the fact that he and Gaelin were on the same side.

A plan took root in Gaelin’s mind. He had faith that O’Connor would put up a fight, and depending on the strength of the animal spirits he channeled, he may even give the werebeasts a run for their money, but fully transformed, the werewolves would have near-limitless stamina and eventually they would wear O’Connor down. This was assuming they would even give O’Connor a chance to change. O’Connor would have a brief advantage when he did shift, as the two werewolves were not aware of O’Connor’s power yet, but Gaelin feared the advantage would be brief. No, Gaelin would have to help or they would all die horribly. Hell, they may face such a fate even with his help.

Gaelin scooted around the side of the car to where the gas tank was located. In several smooth motions he ripped long strips from his white undershirt, exposing his pale, lean abdominal muscles beneath. He pried open the gas tank with a pocket knife that had gone unnoticed by O’Connor and began stuffing the pieces of shirt deep down into the gas tank, making sure to leave a portion protruding from the tank.

Closing his weary eyes, once again Gaelin reached his exhausted will down into his spirit to scrape at the dregs of his diminished power. He needed to create fire, or rather the essence of fire. He mentally collected what power he could, and with an image in his mind of what he wanted, shaped it in the palm of his hand.

Gaelin concentrated on vibrating the molecules of the air just above his palm. He fed a trickle of his power to the empty space until the air around his palm began to heat and a slight shimmer appeared. Next, a thin plume of smoke curled into existence. Gaelin’s head pounded again, but he forced himself to remain focused as he pushed the last of the power into the empty space.

A small flame burst to life an inch above his palm.

“There you are my little friend,” Gaelin cooed at the small flame. As if in response, the flicker of fire swelled slightly as if lapping up the praise.

Slowly, and very gently, Gaelin reached towards the bit of shirt dangling from the gas tank, igniting just the tip of the fabric. At first, the flame resisted the sweat-dampened material, but after several seconds of exposure the shirt grudgingly accepted the flame.

Gaelin estimated he would have about 5 minutes before the entire car went up in a fireball, which was exactly what he was anticipating. Creating that much fire would take a large chuck of power, but if it was already present, manipulating that much fire would be drastically easier.

A booming grunt like a cannon blast sounded, drawing Gaelin’s attention back to the fight. What he saw he knew he’d never forget.

The two thugs had transformed into their were-states, both of a stereotypical wolf likeness. Just no creativity anymore, Gaelin thought. Each creature stood roughly eight feet tall. They were both covered in thick black fur that did little hide the sinuous, ropy muscles that folded over their frames, layer after layer. The creatures had elongated ears and muzzles, not quite as pronounced as a real wolf’s, but Gaelin certainly could see the influence. Each creature’s mouth was filled with pointed fangs that dripped thin strings of foamy saliva, and deadly glinting black claws tipped the elongated fingers and toes of each. But the most noticeable feature was the glowing red eyes that each possessed. A bright, horrible red that reflected the nature of the demonic presence hidden inside.

Mr. Fang and Dimitrius were gone and in their place stood two killing machines who delighted in nothing other than tearing, ripping, and consuming mortal flesh. And right now, both sets of those horrific eyes were pointed directly at O’Connor.

As Gaelin’s attention came to rest on the detective, he couldn’t help but notice the lack of…well, anything coming from the man. No fear or anxiety, no nervous ticks, hell, the guy wasn’t even moving. He just stood glaring at the two monsters with the same stern expression he had given Gaelin earlier.

Gaelin muttered a curse under his breath as he willed the man to move, to do something, anything other than just stand there. Apparently the weres felt the same, for in that instant they rushed in for the kill.

Resisting the urge to cry out, Gaelin readied himself. He glanced at the burning cloth, which still had about two minutes left before it ignited the car’s gas tank. He had next to nothing left in terms of power. Perhaps he could manage a few small defensive shields, but even that would be difficult, and probably futile as the two monsters would be able to barrel right through them.

Gaelin swore again, his mind racing through options, which sadly were very limited. Regardless of what was about to happen, he had to get away from the car before it exploded. He remained crouched as he shuffled to a copse of trees about fifty yards in front of the parked car, his eyes never leaving the two creatures.

The creatures steaked towards O’Connor, like two blurs of black furry death. Even with his enhanced senses, a side effect experienced by most practitioners of magic, Gaelin’s eyes struggled to track them.

When they were about ten yards away the creatures leapt at O’Connor, their claws poised to slash and their jaws unhinged to reveal rows of razer-sharp fangs.

Gaelin was mentally preparing for the collision when he noticed the look on O’Connor’s face. Unbelievably, the man was grinning. Two instances of death were mere feet from him and the detective didn’t have so much as a bead of sweat on his brow.

Several things happened at once. A loud explosion sent a heat wave of air and pressure towards the clump of trees in which Gaelin was hiding. A large cloud of smoke mushroomed upwards as the car was rendered little more than a burning heap of metal. But nobody seemed to notice this, for everyone’s attention was focused solely on O’Connor.

Just as the creatures reached the detective, Gaelin sensed a stirring of power on the wind, coming from O’Connor’s position. The power tasted faintly of wind rippling through the tall grass of an African plain.

It was then that O’Connor exploded with light.

For one moment, O’Connor stood there with that arrogant grin plastered to his face, waiting to be torn to ribbons and devoured, and in the next a hulking form had replaced him.

Narrowing his eyes, Gaelin took in the details of what he was seeing. The space in which O’Connor had once stood was now being occupied by a massive water buffalo. Except, where normal water buffalo were roughly the size of a compact car, this one was the size of a large SUV or a small bus.

A layer of golden light radiated outward from the O’Connor-beast in a half dome, colliding with the two monstrous weres in midair and sending them both flying away in opposite directions. O’Connor stamped an enormous hoof on the ground and snorted once, sending a plume of dust up around his bullish head.

The two weres twisted in the air to right themselves before landing nimbly on their feet. Neither seemed phased by O’Connor’s sudden transformation and easy redirection of their attacks. If anything, they looked twice as blood-thirsty as before, as if the very notion of a challenge excited their already-potent lust for carnage. In unison, the two began to circle O’Connor using large bounds to quickly move around him, all while O’Connor stood motionless save for his ropy tail, which was casually swatting at the insects that were now pestering his haunches.

Gaelin watched as Dimitri, the werewolf with the shaggier fur, dove inward to take a swipe at O’Connor’s hind legs, but O’Connor moved a fraction just before the blow connected causing Dimitri to dance backward.

Mr. Fang growled a low guttural sound and Dimitri looked over at him, responding with his own gravelly growl. The two faced O’Connor again and then dashed inward simultaneously, one towards O’Connor’s back right side and the other towards his front left shoulder. At about ten feet the two launched themselves through the air, baring both claws and fangs to strike.

O’Connor, sensing the change in tactics, rotated to face the werewolf at his front and hopped forward with his head lowered and his horns exposed. The three met with such force that Gaelin swore he could feel the ground tremble beneath the creatures.

As the three collided, Gaelin saw one of O’Connor’s horns pierce the right side of Mr. Fang, ripping a large chuck of flesh from his abdomen. The rent flesh flew through the air in a spray of gore before landing wetly some twenty feet away. Mr. Fang was thrown nearly that far by the force of the impact and he hit the ground in a crumbled, bloody heap, with bits of rib bone poking through his gaping wound.

“Woo, one down!” Gaelin shouted with relief, before realizing that the battle was far from over. Despite O’Connor’s crushing blow to Mr. Fang, Dimitri had successfully landed on O’Connor’s back. The monster clawed and bit chunks of flesh from O’Connor’s back, trying to burrow into him.

O’Connor let out a furious and pained series of snorts before trying to buck the werewolf off of his back. Each time his massive back legs landed on the ground, Gaelin could feel little tremors thunder through the dirt.

Despite the impressive height of O’Connor’s leaps and the bone-jarring impact of him landing, Dimitri simply ducked his head down and dug his claws into O’Connor’s back, allowing him to remain in his advantageous position.

Gaelin reached out to the burning car and the fire it contained, and grabbed a portion of it with his will. As soon as his mind connected to the fire’s essence, the raw power of it flooded his senses, burning as it rushed to fill the vessel of his soul.

As Gaelin did this, a large ball of the fire, roughly the size of a motorcycle, detached from the burning vehicle and floated over to Gaelin. Sweat poured off of his brow as the heat of the fire coupled with his exhausted state left Gaelin straining to maintain the fireball.

A guttural howl of pain drew Gaelin’s attention. He looked up to see the enormous O’Connor-beast rolling on its back like a dog rolling in mud, presumably with Dimitri underneath.

Then, O’Connor shakily got to his legs, his entire mass quaking with exertion. Rivers of blood flowed from several nasty looking gashes that paralleled his spine. Gaelin couldn’t accurately gauge how deep they went, but he knew O’Connor was fading quickly.

O’Connor looked to the crumpled heap that was Dimitri, which resembled a pile of dusty fur. The creature began to twitch and then painfully straighten out its limbs. This elicited a loud serious of pops the reminded Gaelin of small trees breaking.

Dimitri eventually made it to his feet and assumed a defensive stance. The whole right side of his upper body sagged and his shoulder looked dislocated, his right arm hanging limply at his side. Still, he raised his left claw and prepared to leap again at the bleeding O’Connor, who was now facing Dimitri.

Gaelin saw that O’Connor was sitting on his hind legs, laboring to breathe.

Dimitri must have noticed it as well, for the monster slowly strafed to the right, cautiously testing the limits of O’Connor’s current mobility.

The fight must have taken more out of O’Connor than Gaelin realized because O’Connor didn’t even stand fully in response, but rather twisted on his rear to continue facing Dimitri.

The monster grinned a wolfish grin, seeing his chance to end the fight. He began running in circles around O’Connor, while O’Connor struggled to keep pace, not wanting to expose his mess of a back. Eventually though, Dimitri was moving so fast that O’Connor quit tracking the monster entirely, and merely sat there waiting for the moment Dimitri attacked. It would be the final blow.

Gaelin realized that O’Conner had run out of power and was visibly smaller than when he had first transformed. O’Connor had nothing left to fight with, he was giving up. Dimitri must have sensed the resignation as well, for in the next moment he leapt at O’Connor’s back, which was now completely unguarded.

“NO!” Gaelin screamed, channeling all of his remaining energy into the fireball that was furiously writhing in his hands.

Time slowed to a crawl.

Gaelin saw Dimitri flying through the air. He had to time his shot perfectly or else he would risk missing, or worse, setting O’Connor ablaze.

Committing to the attack, Gaelin used what was left of his will to hurl the fireball at the monster Dimitri. For a breathless moment, Gaelin watched as the fireball soared through the air and then explode against the monster’s fur.

The fire must have been hotter than Gaelin anticipated. As soon as the blast met Dimitri’s coarse fur it ignited, accepting the flame like dried hay. The blast knocked the creature off course and to the right of O’Connor, who had crouched down as low as his bulky form would allow.

Dimitri’s howls of pain quickly turned into deathly squeals as the monster was reduced to a mound of burning flesh and popping bone.

Gaelin quickly turned from the sight, but nothing he did saved him from the smell of charring flesh. He swallowed the bile rising in the back of his throat and hurried over to O’Connor, who was shifting back into his human form, albeit much more slowly than his initial transformation.

“Hey man, are you alright?” Gaelin shouted.

O’Connor was nearly naked, covered by a small remnant of his pants that ended at his upper thighs, and a grizzly collage of lacerations and deep wounds.

“I’ll be fine,” he groaned. “I just need a minute.”

Gaelin shook his head. “I think you’ll need more than that.” He looked back at the factory. “You stay here and recover. I’m going around the back of the factory. I want to say I saw a couple of cars on the other side. Hopefully the bender didn’t sabotage the car he didn’t take.”

“You’re still under arrest you know,” O’Connor growled while trying to sit up. He failed weakly before falling back, gasping for breath.

“Oh yeah,” Gaelin said with a smirk, “threaten the guy who just saved your life.”

“I – was doing fine – on my own,” O’Connor said between gasps.

“Your back is a testament to that,” Gaelin said, shaking his head with amusement. “Just relax Kojak. I’ll be right back.”

In response, O’Connor waved a hand through the air in a well, leave then motion.

Gaelin shook his head once more before jogging towards the factory. He must have had some luck because a pristine white SUV stood with gleaming rims and dark, tinted windows, waiting for him. He silently thanked fate and got to work hot-wiring the vehicle.

Five minutes later, Gaelin pulled the SUV around the factory and was met with an interesting scene. First, he noticed that O’Connor had managed to raise himself to a sitting position. But then something else caught Gaelin’s attention.

Behind O’Connor was a small girl, the girl Telia from before. She was crouched behind the shift, pressing a small knife to the man’s throat. Her hand shook violently and Gaelin quickly realized that the girl was terrified.

Slowly stepping out of the SUV, Gaelin raised his hands in a gesture of surrender. He took several slow steps and plastered the warmest smile he could muster on his face.

Telia’s eyes darted from the SUV, to Gaelin, down to the knife, and then back to the vehicle. The quick eye movements made her look like a cornered rat frantically searching for an escape from the maze.

“Hey there, Telia was it?” he said softly. “Everything is going to be okay. You don’t need that knife anymore. We aren’t going to hurt you.”

Telia rapidly shook her head several times. “Y-you may not, b-but he will,” she said as she pressed the knife deeper into the soft flesh of O’Connor’s neck. The man didn’t even blink.

That caught Gaelin off guard. “I think you’re confused sweetie. We’re the good guys,” he said, taking several more steps forward.

“You may be, but he is bad,” she said in a shaky voice. “I just want to go. Please let me go.”

“Okay, okay, I hear you,” Gaelin said in a non-threatening voice. “But, where are you going to go? You can’t very well drive yourself out of here. Your feet can’t even reach the pedals,” he said, shooting her a comforting smile.

Telia’s eyes again shot to the SUV and then back down to O’Connor. She looked like she was on the verge of panic. Several tears rimmed the corners of her reddened eyes. “He’ll kill me,” she said in a voice just above a whisper. “He’ll kill me, and then he will kill you too.”

Gaelin assumed the girl was talking about the Drifter, and for some reason, perhaps the stress of the last thirty minutes, she was confusing O’Connor with members of the Cain Conglomerate. He didn’t blame her. She couldn’t have been older than ten or eleven, and just seeing a fraction of what they had endured today would cause any child to become mentally unhinged. And that wasn’t including the things she must have endured at the hands of the Cain Conglomerate.

This thought angered Gaelin. Innocent children, just like Telia, were being subjected to who knew what at the hands of that criminal. It had to stop, and Gaelin vowed to make sure that it did.

In his most sincere voice, Gaelin looked deep into Telia’s eyes and said, “I swear to you Telia, I won’t let anything happen to you. I will do everything in my power to protect you. Do you believe me?” He hoped his eyes looked as honest as he felt.

She must have believed him, at least in part, for she relaxed her grip on the knife, letting her hand drop slightly.

Gaelin opened his mouth to encourage her when O’Connor’s head shot backward into the girl’s forehead delivering a crushing blow that instantly rendered her unconscious.

“WHAT the hell is wrong with you?” Gaelin yelled as he rushed forward towards the two.

“She was panicked and a danger to herself and me. There was no guarantee that she was going to drop the knife,” O’Connor said, as if this was common knowledge.

“She was coming around,” Gaelin said hotly. “That was uncalled for.” He cast a sympathetic glance towards the unconscious girl. “She is just a child.”

“She is a child who was panicked and on the verge of sticking a knife in my neck,” O’Connor said, unapologetically. “She is alive, and relatively unharmed,” he said, casting a distasteful look at the girl, “and now she isn’t a threat to herself or anyone else. Problem solved.”

“Yes, but that could have been handled a different way. She’s already been through more than either of us can probably imagine.” Gaelin said, his voice leveling off as the heat in his cheeks dissipated.

“Look,” O’Connor said, his temper evidently rising, “I’ve had just about enough of your kind today. If I didn’t believe we were working towards the common goal of bringing that scumbag Drifter down, I’d have you back in cuffs. Now, shut up and get the hell in the car. We have to move before reinforcements arrive to secure this location.”

Gaelin shook his head and bent down to scoop up Telia’s unconscious form. He carried her towards the SUV and gently set her down in the back seat.

O’Connor had already crawled into the driver’s seat, so Gaelin shuffled around the side and into the passenger’s seat.

“Alright detective,” Gaelin said, “where are we going?”

“Jesus, just call me James, alright? And quit acting like a child. I did what I did. I’m not taking any more chances with your type, so be thankful I’m even putting a modicum of trust in you.”

“My type? Do you have amnesia, or did I not just see you turn into a big freaking buffalo?” Gaelin said sarcastically.

“Technically, it was a water buffalo,” O’Connor replied.

Gaelin sat staring at the man with his jaw hanging open in shock.

O’Connor coughed out a laugh. “Smartest damn thing you’ve said all day. Anyway, we need to plan our next move. Let’s head back to the station. I can get an APB out for this…what did you call him?”

“Bender,” Gaelin hastily replied, “but why go there? Can’t you just call that in, or are you just going to try arresting me again?”

“For now, no,” O’Connor said, and Gaelin got the sense that O’Connor had taken the question seriously. “And yes, I could call it in, but we need a place to plan our next move. Where else would we go?”

“Well, let’s find out shall we?” Gaelin said. He reached over to the display screen of the built-in navigation console in the SUV’s dashboard. After pressing several buttons, Gaelin pulled up a list of previously visited locations and instantly one stood out, repeated twice as many times as any other. “That looks like a good placed to start. 125 Colfax Avenue. Looks like it’s in the warehouse district just under twenty miles from here.” He looked up to see O’Connor staring at him incredulously.

“What? Just because my type has an affinity for power beyond normal human comprehension, doesn’t mean we don’t know how to use something as simple as GPS.” Gaelin said smugly.

“That…was actually not a bad idea.” O’Connor said grudgingly.

“Admit it, you wouldn’t have thought of that.”

“Don’t push it,” O’Connor growled. “I would have thought of that. Eventually.”

Gaelin smirked but said nothing further.

Fifteen minutes later, they were cruising down the interstate in route to the warehouse district.

Gaelin found a stash of jerky and some peanuts, and together he and O’Connor spent the time eating in silence. The food did wonders for both of them and Gaelin could feel his power steadily regenerating. He assumed the same was true for O’Connor. The man’s wounds were nothing more than thin lines of red now.

After finishing off the last of the jerky, Gaelin turned in his seat to face O’Connor. “So, why are you following the Drifter? I know the police have a vested interest in bringing him in, or taking him down, but why you?”

O’Connor cast him a sideways glance. “Are we getting buddy-buddy now?”

Gaelin sighed. O’Connor was such a prickly bastard, but maybe that was why Gaelin liked him. “Relax. I’m just trying to pass the time.” He didn’t expect O’Connor to respond, but the man cleared his throat and began talking.

“I requested this assignment,” O’Connor said. “Sure, this guy may be the local public enemy number one, but for me it’s also personal.”

Gaelin sat silently, waiting for the man to continue.

“When I first discovered what I could do,” O’Connor continued, “my parents didn’t react as one would expect.”

“They freaked?” Gaelin asked.

“No, just the opposite. They loved it. Thought it was intriguing and puzzling, as nobody in my family has ever exhibited any type of supernatural ability.” A shadow of a look passed over O’Connor’s face. “Apparently, the Drifter thought it was an intriguing ability as well. Intriguing enough to send a hit squad of goons to my house to capture me. I guess my parents didn’t like that so they tried to step in.”

“I’m sorry. What happened?”

O’Connor glanced at Gaelin from the corners of his stern eyes. “I got out. My parents didn’t. They put themselves directly into their path so I could escape.” He fell silent after that and Gaelin didn’t see the need to press further. For O’Connor, this was a tale of simple revenge. “I’m supposed to bring this guy in, you know, for justice and all of that crap. But honestly, I have no intention of bringing him in. Not alive anyway.”

Gaelin pondered that for a moment. He couldn’t blame O’Connor. The man had every reason to want to kill the Drifter. Gaelin himself felt that the world would be a better place without the Drifter in it, but he still wasn’t sure if that meant killing the criminal, or bringing him to justice alive.

“What about you?” O’Connor asked. “What’s your story?”

Gaelin pondered the question for a moment. “Have you ever heard of the Circle of Gaea?” Gaelin replied, and glanced over to see O’Connor nodding slightly. This took Gaelin by surprise. “You have?”

“Yep. A group of crazies claiming to be some supernatural police force or something like that. I’ve heard mention of them from some of my more eccentric busts.”

Gaelin snorted. “Crazy? Possibly. But also not wrong. How much of the supernatural world do you know about?”

O’Connor reached up and scratched at the stubble on his chin. “Other than the stuff I’ve encountered, not much. Just bits and pieces I pick up or hear about. And even then, most of it I’ve written off as garbage. I’ve made a point of staying away from that stuff ever since my parents died.”

Gaelin nodded once. “Okay, fair enough. So, the Circle of Gaea is what they claim to be. They are a force of magic users, mostly human, who work towards defending normal people from the seedier aspects of the supernatural world.”

“So it’s like a police force?” O’Connor asked.

“More or less, but unlike the structure of any vanilla police organization, this one is governed by a ruling class based off of lineage. It’s like a cross between a monarchy and an oligarchy. Follow so far?”

“Sure,” O’Connor replied. “So you have like a king or a queen, and a governing body to back them up.”

“Exactly,” Gaelin said. “The Circle of Gaea is the entire organization. The Light of Gaea are the nine members of the oligarchy, and the Gaea is the head, the queen so to speak. And Gaea is G-A-E-A. The title is an adaptation of Gaia, G-A-I-A, or ‘life mother.’”

“Queen? Not a king?” O’Connor said, clearly more interested in the conversation than he had originally intended.

“The Gaea is always a woman, probably because the incarnation of the deity we follow first appeared as such. I guess the original founders took that to heart.” Gaelin replied.

“Wait, so since this division of power is based on lineage, what happens if this Gaea gives birth to a boy?”

“Good question,” Gaelin snapped his fingers, “if the Gaea gives birth to a male child, he becomes a Progeny of Gaea. If she only ever has a son, or sons, the Gaea gene resides within the male line until another female is born.”

A puzzled expression crossed O’Connor’s face. “That all makes sense, but what happens if all the male heirs die out before another female of the lineage is born.”

“Yes, this was an issue luckily thought of before such a thing ever happened, so in order to avoid the line dying out, the Light of Gaea created a relic known as Gaea’s well.” Gaelin noticed O’Connor opening his mouth to ask another question, but spoke up before he could. “It’s not a well in the normal sense, but rather a portal that connects all members of the Circle of Gaea to our power source.”

“Okay, you lost me there. What do you mean your ‘power source?’ Isn’t magic just magic?”

“Honestly, we aren’t sure where magic comes from, but the most popular theory is that any magic is a derivative of whichever plain the magic user originates from.”

“Alright, you’re going to need to explain that one a bit,” O’Connor chuckled.

“Sure. Take those werewolves for example. Were-beasts are essentially a human host that is co-habited by a mortal soul and something else. You could call it a demonic presence or whatever. The point is, the spirit of whatever shares the human body is not something that originates from this plane, but from a much darker one. Similarly, the Circle of Gaea is made up of beings that inhabit this plane—“

O’Connor interrupted. “‘This plane,’ you mean Earth?”

“Earth. Our universe. Our reality. We live in our own plane of existence.”

“I’ve never heard the name Gaia before.” O’Connor said skeptically.

“Google it, or read a book on mythology. It’s not hard to find.” Gaelin replied.

“So, what, you guys channel the forces of the Earth as your magic?”

“Exactly!” Gaelin said excitedly. “Essentially Gaea’s well is just a thin point between the power of the Earth and the physical reality that we can see and touch. And if a male of the line of Gaea were to die before a female is born, the power then reverts back to the well where it waits until another female is born.”

“Then what about my ability? I’m not a member of your magic club yet I can still do what I do.” O’Connor asked.

“Well, we don’t exactly have a monopoly on the magic of our world. In fact, I don’t even think such a thing is possible. You’re talking about an entire plane’s worth of magic. There’s just no way to cap something like that, or funnel it into one place. It’s inevitable that magic will poke up here and there on its own, hence, people like you.” Gaelin smiled.

“Alright, say I buy that. What makes this Gaea and her children any different than any other magic user? I know you said it was a lineage thing, but who determined it would work that way?”

“Not who,” Gaelin said, “but what. The difference is, anything that originates from our plane is generally restricted to one, maybe two types of magical abilities. For example, you are a shift. You channel the spirits of animals and use that power to enhance or alter your form. Telia,” Gaelin said, glancing back at the sleeping girl, “she is a masker. She can completely mask the magical signatures of magic users. And the guy that escaped is a bender. He can bend light and create illusions, or go invisible.”

O’Connor nodded. “That would explain why that guy was so slippery.”

“Right. And when you put him with a masker like Telia, it is virtually impossible to find him.”

“What about the Drifter? What is his power?” O’Connor asked.

Gaelin’s face fell slightly. “Unfortunately, we have no idea. That’s why it has been so difficult to track him down. That, and all of his lackeys are terrified that their heads will be next on the chopping block. The Drifter is not without an abundance of resources.” Gaelin paused to check the GPS. “Anyway, we are almost there so we need to come up with a game plan.”

“Hold on, that still doesn’t explain why there is a difference between this line of Gaea and the other members, or any other magical creatures on this plane.”

Gaelin sighed. “Anyone connected to the lineage of the Gaea is not just able to manipulate one or two types of magic, but any and all of them. Elemental magic, illusion magic, you name it. If it is studied and practiced, a member of the line of Gaea has the potential to master it. Now, what are we going to do when we get there? We’ll be there in about five minutes.”

“Just one more question. What is your part in all of this?”

Gaelin beamed a boyish grin at the man. “I’m the Progeny of Gaea.”

O’Connor’s eyebrows rose questioningly. “You’re a Progeny of Gaea?”

Gaelin shook his head. “Not a progeny. I’m the progeny. The last of the line.”

O’Connor’s eyes widened. “The last? You’re the last. So what, if you die, the line dies?”

“Yes, if I die, the power reverts back to Gaea’s well until another female carrying the line is born.” Gaelin said this as if it were a trivial matter.

“What about your mother, the Gaea. Wouldn’t the power just revert back to her until she has another child?”

A grim expression crossed Gaelin’s face. “The Gaea is dead,” was all he said. Thankfully, O’Connor seemed to catch the hidden implications and didn’t pry.

“If you’re the last, wouldn’t your organization be a little put off with you running around by yourself, nearly getting arrested and what not?” It sounded like a jest, but Gaelin could tell O’Connor was seriously asking.

“Oh I imagine they are quite upset with me, and probably in a state of near-panic. My bodyguard, Raul, is probably scouring every inch of the city looking for me, but I’ve never had an issue with giving him and the Circle the slip.”

O’Connor shook his head. “Don’t you think that is a little irresponsible? I mean, you are the last remnant of the ruling class.”

“Not at all. As the Progeny, it is my responsibility to keep the baddies of the supernatural from endangering the normal human population.”

“Sure, I get that, but you have an entire organization to back you up and help you, so why are you out here by yourself?”

“Let’s just say I’m not much for being babysat.” And Gaelin left it at that. Again, thankfully, O’Connor got the message not to push the matter.

“Perfect.” O’Connor said, his voice dropping to barely audible levels.

Gaelin looked at the man to find him grinning. Not just grinning, but the man’s entire presence had changed. His eyes now twinkled with what Gaelin could only describe as malice, and a sickening sense of hunger radiated from him.

“What did you say?” Gaelin asked in confusion. “What is wrong with you?”

“I said perfect.” O’Connor replied in a raspy, menacing tone that was completely different from how O’Connor had sounded before. “Thank you for all of that delightful information. It would appear that I have finally found the missing piece of the puzzle.” O’Connor was grinning from ear to ear as if he had just won a gameshow and Gaelin was the prize.

A ruffling sound came from the back seat, but before Gaelin could turn to check on the girl, he felt the tingling sensation from earlier creep up the back of his neck. The feeling caused Gaelin to freeze in place. It wasn’t that he was unfamiliar with the sensation, as he had felt it plenty earlier and assumed it had been Telia’s power, but it was who the sensation was emanating from. Rather than feeling the power from the girl, the tingling was coming from O’Connor.

Gaelin looked into O’Connor’s eyes, trying to figure out what game the detective was playing, and again saw the predatory gleam in them and suddenly, everything started falling into place.

Understanding blossomed on Gaelin’s face, just as the sharp sting of a needle bit into his neck. The effect was immediate. He could feel his vision fuzzing at the edges and his movements slow as if he had just stepped into a vat of tar.

With the minimal control he had left, Gaelin turned his head towards the back seat and noticed Telia was nowhere to be found, but in her place sat the bender. The weasel of a man was smiling widely while holding up an empty syringe.

Gaelin wanted to lash out, to strike the glasses off of the man’s thin nose, and when the man started laughing, Gaelin tried to do just that. But somewhere between his thoughts and movements, the command to act broke down and all he could manage was a twitch in his shoulders.

The last thing he noticed before passing out was O’Connor’s raspy voice. “I’ve waited for a long time to get my hands on a Progeny. What better than to have captured the last Progeny. Sleep now. You won’t like what awaits you upon your waking.”

Gaelin wanted to give him a cutting retort. He wanted to blast the entire vehicle off of the road with a burst of wind. Gaelin wanted to do a lot of things, but sadly all he could manage was to fall into a deep sleep to the sounds of O’Connor’s and the bender’s intertwining laughter.

…

A subtle breeze fluttered across Gaelin’s forehead, lightly ruffling his ginger hair. He could see nothing but darkness. His eyes were open, at least, they felt like they were open, but all he saw was a nothingness deeper and darker than any midnight. The endless void seemed to threaten his very consciousness, poking and prodding at him, looking for a crack to enter and devour him.

“Welcome, child of Gaia,” a female voice whispered, “my last progeny. The time has come for me to weigh your worth.”

Silence ensued. Gaelin waited for the voice to say more, but after what felt like several minutes of waiting, it was apparent the voice had said all it had intended to. Gaelin waited several moments more before opening his mouth to speak.

At that moment, he felt his presence lurch forward, pulled faster and faster. He couldn’t verify any of this visually, but the feeling of flying through space grew in intensity, the jet black night whipping around him in a churning maelstrom of chaotic nothingness.

Finally, Gaelin felt himself slowing. He didn’t know for how long he had been soaring through the inky blackness. It could have been minutes, or it could have been an eternity. He didn’t have long to ponder though. A faint glow appeared far in the distance, rapidly approaching him.

As the source of the light grew larger, Gaelin noticed several details. He appeared to be approaching a pyramid of some sort. As his view of the object increased in detail, he could see that the pyramid was roughly the height of a five-story building. The structure was stepped from the bottom, to the very top, and was made of a silvery metallic material that shimmered with rainbows of color much like the top of an oil slick.

At the top of the pyramid, a beam of pure light jetted upwards. Gaelin craned his invisible head as far back as he could, and still he could see no end to the beam of light.

Upon closer inspection, Gaelin realized he could just make out various colors swirling in smoky, rippling patters within the beam.

Gaelin felt himself touch down at the base of the pyramid and realized he had a body again. After inspecting himself further, he noticed that he wasn’t wearing the tactical clothing he had been when riding in the car with O’Connor, but rather a body suit of pure white that seemed to shimmer and glow much like the beam at the top of the pyramid. The garments pulsed with brilliance in tune with the beating of his heart.

O’Connor… Gaelin felt his thoughts darken as he mentally recapped what had happened during the car ride. O’Connor was either the Drifter or working very closely with him. And that rat of a man, the bender, had been hiding in plain sight the entire time.

Then Gaelin’s thoughts flashed to Telia. He hoped the poor little masker was okay. She seemed innocent in all of this. Another victim captured and forced to perpetrate the Drifter’s heinous acts.

A voice broke through Gaelin’s contemplations. “Gaelin, son of Galia. It is time.”

Gaelin pulled at his lower lip. He was unsure how to proceed or what to say. He had a million questions. Was he dead? To whom did the voice belong? But, like the smooth operator he was, he asked the most ingenious question.

“Time for what?” He instantly scolded himself for the lame question.

“A reckoning.” Despite the airy nature of the feminine voice, Gaelin found it to be cold and unsympathetic.

Gaelin opened his mouth to speak, but was stopped when the voice spoke again.

“There is a plot in motion that could forever change the nature of this world. The well is in danger.”

The implications of those few words gave Gaelin pause. The well was directly connected to the source of all the magic of the Earth. If it were corrupted or destroyed, reality as everyone knew it now would completely change, and there weren’t many scenarios in which that change would be good. None, in fact.

A thought crossed Gaelin’s mind. “This is connected to my search for the Drifter, isn’t it?”

“Indeed, although the gravity and depth of what you pursue is far beyond what you currently understand.”

Gaelin let the voice’s words sink in, but he needed more information. He glanced up the pyramid towards the beam of light. “What is this place?” he questioned softly, as much to himself as to the voice.

“There are no words to accurately describe where you are, but I shall try.” A moment of silence followed before the voice spoke again. “The…structure before you is a representation of all the essence of your plane of existence. The plane from which you were created and of which I control.”

It only took Gaelin a moment to realize what the voice was implying. He nudged the base of the pyramid with a covered toe. “This… this is the world’s power source, and you… your Gaia,” he said slowly, “like, the Gaia!”

“I have been called many names throughout the history of the ages, but yes, that is the prevalent name my children call me. And your other claim is also correct.”

Gaelin let his eyes drift back to the beam of light. “If that’s true, then that beam. Is that the connection to the well?”

“It is.”

“But how can the well be in danger? It resides in the heart of our territory, far away from any threat.”

“My children often give themselves too much credit. Pride has always been an issue. You are thinking too linearly.” The voice chided him softly.

Gaelin worked the problem in his mind, disregarding the admonishment. “The well isn’t threatened by a physical attack?”

“Correct. There are other ways to reach the well, and by default this place. Normally such a thing would be impossible without my intervention, but there are ways involving dark powers not of this realm.” The voice paused. “I believe your kind refer to beings wielding these powers as ‘Others’.”

Gaelin’s jaw fell open in shock. “Others. That can’t be. Surely we would have detected magic usage of such a nature. We have detection systems and methods in place for that very purpose.”

“Again, my children give themselves too much credit. As I mentioned previously, your understanding of your enemy is severely lacking.”

Gaelin shook his head. This was terrible news indeed. Others were categorized as any creature born of a realm outside of this one, and aside from Gaelin’s realm, there were no other known realms that contained anything that would be of benefit to humanity and the creatures of his realm. Most beings from other realms only sought one thing, to devour the life essence of everything not of their realm.

As if reading his mind, the voice of Gaia responded. “I see now that the gravity of this situation has taken hold. The creature you call the Drifter is from a particularly violent realm. I believe the Hausa people of Nigeria refer to them as Soul Eaters.”

Gaelin nodded once. He had come across the creatures in his studies when training for his position as Progeny.

The voice of Gaia continued. “The soul eater you face is a strong one, deep seeded in the dark magic of its realm. It has perfected a spell that drains the life of any creature touched by the power of this realm, my realm, and stores that essence within a series of stones. Once all of the stones are filled, the creature will then perform the ritualistic sacrifice of a being with great power. One such as yourself. The power drawn from the sacrifice fuels the spell, and when added to that of the stones, it will tear a hole directly to the source of my power. Once this has been accomplished, the creature will be free to inject its corruption into the very core of this realm, thus changing it forever.”

“Change it how,” Gaelin asked, although he wasn’t sure he wanted to hear the answer.

“At best, the magic of this world becomes corrupted. I would die along with any of my creations that are heavily entrenched in the power I provide to all living things. Life as you know it would end and any creature still in existence after the corruption has spread will be twisted into beings of a nature similar to the Drifter’s.”

“That’s the BEST case scenario?” Gaelin’s voice raised in alarm. “What is the worst case?” Gaelin braced himself for the response.

“Death. Endless and repeated death. The Drifter will devour all essence of this realm until nothing remains, growing infinitely more powerful until the realm is unable to sustain its own structure. Then it will collapse in on itself. Then nothingness.”

As Gaia’s voice drifted, an image flooded Gaelin’s mind of a dark world. The planet was shrouded in near total black, but as he moved closer Gaelin saw dim pinpoints of light in a variety of blood reds and pale, sickly purples. Large arches of an obsidian-like material, dotted with the eerie lights, crisscrossed the planet’s surface.

Gaelin’s perspective focused in further before coming to rest on the planet’s surface. There he noticed a large figure, slowly traversing the dead world. He couldn’t estimate the exact size due to the dark shrouding the planet, but he could discern a similar rocky material encasing the creature and spawning smaller arches reminiscent of those that covered the planet’s surface.

As if sensing his presence, the creature turned a pair of gleaming red eyes on him. Eyes the bore into his very essence. At once, Gaelin felt the core of his very soul being syphoned away into those gleaming pits. He struggled against the pull of those horrific eyes to no avail, but just as hope had fully abandoned him, he felt an opposing force pull him backwards and his view of the monster retreated as quickly as it had first approached.

“Now you see,” whispered Gaia’s voice in the back of Gaelin’s mind.

Gaelin’s head fell and he could do nothing but focus his breathing for several moments while he inventoried his soul, making sure it was still intact. He had played right into the Drifter’s trap and had thus given the creature the last piece of the puzzle needed to complete the spell.

A new realization dawned in Gaelin’s mind. “You brought me here to destroy me. To remove the most important piece of the Drifter’s plan. If you destroy my essence here, my physical body will be useless.”

A long pause caused sweat to accumulate at Gaelin’s forehead.

“Originally, it was my intent to do just that,” the voice of Gaia said without shame, “but I have caught glimpses of your essence and I believe that, through you, there may still be a chance to salvage this realm. Albeit, a very small chance.”

Gaelin winced at the voice’s frankness.

“But understand, even if I deem you worthy to try, your chances of survival are even smaller than those of you succeeding. The Drifter may very well consume your essence and thereby remove you from my domain entirely. You would be lost to me and this realm for eternity. If I were to take you now, you would at least be free to remain a part of this realm and a part of me, but there is nothing I can do for you if the Drifter consumes you.”

Gaelin scowled to himself. So his options were, die now and remain a part of this realm, or risk dying and being consumed by the Drifter and be left to face an existence far more horrifying than anything he could probably imagine.

Gaelin remained silent for a time before asking the only question left burning in his mind. “If I stay here, if I die at your hands right here and right now, will the Drifter still be able to complete the spell?”

The voice of Gaia paused for what felt like an eternity in Gaelin’s mind before replying.

“Yes. Perhaps it would not be for some time, but eventually he would find another with an essence as strong as yours. The full extent of my children come in many forms. Eventually the Drifter would find another of your potential. Naturally you would remain safe and at peace until that day came. And even then, perhaps another champion would arise to meet the threat the Drifter poses. But again, the chances are small that another would arise with the ability to deal with this threat before the Drifter would attempt the spell again.”

That was all Gaelin needed to know. He nodded once to himself. “What do I need to do to get back? I will try to destroy the Drifter and save this realm.”

A bright light exploded to Gaelin’s left and he quickly raised an arm to shield his eyes from the overwhelming light. After several moments the intensity of the light dimmed and faded.

The voice of Gaia spoke again, but this time it was directly to his left.

Gaelin turned as his eyes fell upon a woman of such unimaginable beauty, it hurt his eyes just to look at her.

She was slightly shorter than Gaelin, with silver hair the color of the pyramid which swirled around the crown of her head like wispy clouds caught in a light breeze. Her skin was such a brilliant white it was nearly translucent. Gaelin peered into the woman’s eyes and noticed that they swirled between shades of green, blue, and a rich earthy brown. The woman was robed in, what Gaelin could only describe as, pure light.

Gaelin felt an overwhelming sense of awe in that moment, as if he were beholding a particularly breathtaking view of the planet Earth from some distance out in space. Tears formed at the corners of his eyes and he quickly reached up to wipe them away. It took him a moment to notice, but the woman was smiling warmly at him.

“It pleases me very much to hear you say that, my Progeny. I deem you worthy of the true power bestowed upon you by my daughter Galia.”

Gaelin looked at Gaia in surprise. “That was the test?” He asked with disbelief.

Gaia smiled again and nodded once. “There is no better test than placing one’s very existence on the line and then giving them a choice.”

Gaelin reached up and scratched the back of his head. “Couldn’t you have, you know, just peered into my soul or something?”

Gaia considered the question. “But, that’s exactly what I’ve done.”

Gaelin shook his head. “Never mind,” he said. “So, what is the plan?”

Gaia raised her hand, palm up. “Come my Progeny, take my hand. It is time to grant you your birthright.”

Gaelin had no idea what birthright she meant, but he stepped forward and took Gaia’s hand. It was slightly warm to the touch, but Gaelin could feel a world’s worth of energy just beneath the surface. The power sent electricity rippling over his skin, up his arm, until it reached the back of his head. Then he felt a small pop and the feeling vanished.

Gaia released his hand and Gaelin stood staring at it for a moment before looking up questioningly. “That’s it?” he asked. “I don’t feel any different.”

Gaia smiled patiently at him. “Search your spirit. You will know it when the time is right. Now, you must depart. There is little time left. The Drifter has nearly filled the last stone and your body has already been positioned for the final sacrifice.”

Gaelin nodded to Gaia. “Thank you. I will do everything I can to save our realm, to save you.”

“I know you will, my Progeny. Good luck.”

Gaelin stood ready for…well, he wasn’t sure. After a moment of waiting, nothing happened. He looked down at his feet expecting…something.

“Am I supposed to—” as he glanced up at Gaia, she rushed at him faster than his eyes could track and pushed him backwards, hard, off of the base of the platform and into the void.

He felt himself falling endlessly, tumbling end over end, towards what he couldn’t say, until finally his back slammed into something soft and fleshy. Then Gaelin opened his eyes and immediately regretted it.

…

This first thing Gaelin noticed was the scent of rotting flesh mixed with the coppery tang of blood, lots and lots of blood. The stench was so powerful it threatened to render him unconscious again, but he swallowed the bile rising in the back of his throat and took a breath through his mouth.

The second thing he noticed was that he was no longer in pain from his previous exhaustion or the crack to the skull he had suffered at the hands of Mr. Fang and his baseball bat. This, at least, was an improvement.

The sound of footsteps on stone sounded behind him and he quickly relaxed, feigning sleep.

“Come Littleman,” a raspy voice sounded behind him, “the Progeny has awakened. We must prepare for the final sacrifice.

Damn, Gaelin thought. He opened his eyes and craned his head around to take in his surroundings.

Calling the chamber he was in a cave would have been generous. Perhaps a charnel pit situated in a cave would have been a more apt description. Shock and a brief moment of terror threatened to overwhelm Gaelin at the horrific sight.

Gaelin was chained to a stone altar, barely long enough to extend beneath his long legs. His altar was located in the center of a circle of five others, equidistant from each other and from his own. Deep troughs etched into the stone floor ran in a line from the five altars to circle his own, and Gaelin could just make out small rivers of liquid, blood he assumed, running the length of each.

Upon four of the altars lay corpses and judging from the size and state of each, a small person or child had been brutally tortured before they were killed. Numerous cuts covered each corpse, from head to toe, and beneath each was a large dark spot of what Gaelin assumed was dried bodily fluids.

Above each altar was a small outcropping of obsidian rock from which a dark crystalline stone glowed with a pulsing red light. Gaelin immediately recognized the feint blood red glow of the stones as the same haunting light he had seen in Gaia’s vision of that far off, evil world.

His shock and terror quickly turned to fury as the implications of what he was seeing sank in. These were the children, the missing children. They had been mercilessly tortured before being killed and the glowing crystals, Gaelin realized, must house their trapped souls. Tortured in life and then forced to face continued torment until the time came for each soul to be consumed by the ritual. These poor children would know no relief, even in death.

Gaelin gritted his teeth and could barely contain himself from diving unrestrained into his own power when a small girl’s cry caught his attention.

On the fifth altar lay Telia, the tiny masker from before. She had been right all along. Gaelin had thought her confused and unhinged by the things she had seen and experienced, but he had been wrong. She had known exactly who O’Connor was and what he was planning to do and Gaelin had delivered her and himself right into the hands of the Drifter.

Standing next to Telia’s altar was the bender, the man known as Littleman. The rodent of a man was cackling madly in a high-pitched, nasally tone while drawing a jagged and ancient looking dagger across her arms and legs. Each time he made a cut, Telia would cry out and Littleman would laugh wildly and moan with pleasure.

Gaelin strained against his chains and tried reaching for his power. He would have to use magic to force his way out. He reached his mind inward, but as he did so a sharp feeling pierced his wrists and ankles where the chains held him, and he felt himself unable to touch his own power.

A raspy laugh emanated from behind him. “Welcome back Progeny,” the voiced hissed in a tone of delighted mocking. “I would take a closer look at those chains if I were you.”

Gaelin had no intention of listening to anything the monster suggested, but curiosity got the better of him. He looked down and noticed that these weren’t normal chains. These seemed to have been fashioned from an unusual metal Gaelin had never seen before. Tracing the length of each was a small script of runes etched deeply into the material. Spell work in a language he couldn’t understand, he quickly realized.

“The unbreakable chains,” cooed the Drifter. “Just a little bit of my home that I was able to smuggle into your world. Quite an interesting item, wouldn’t you say?”

“You bastard!” Gaelin shouted. It was all he could do. Telia’s cries were becoming faint and from what Gaelin could see, she was fading fast from blood loss. He futilely struggled against his chains again. He had to do something. Telia wouldn’t last much longer.

“Littleman, has the whelp been bled sufficiently? I grow impatient and am ready to proceed with the ritual,” said the Drifter, his tone promising violence.

Littleman turned to answer and Gaelin was surprised by the man’s appearance. Long gashes stretched from the bender’s forehead to his collar bone, and each gash oozed a toxic looking dark liquid. A faint purple glow emanated from his eyes, which looked enlarged and nearly bulging from his sockets. The man’s face had elongated and his cheek bones jutted out sharply, breaking the skin in several places. Littleman noticed Gaelin glaring at him and he flashed Gaelin a sinister smile, revealing a rotting, empty orifice.

The bender cackled. “Such disgust. Take a good look. This is the face of power.”

Gaelin turned his head and spit to the side. “You’d think with your ability, you’d be able to manage a face a little less gruesome than that. Let’s just say, I don’t think you will be winning any Miss America pageants with a mug like that you little rat.”

Anger flashed across the bender’s twisted face and he took several menacing steps towards Gaelin.

Good, Gaelin thought, anything to get him away from Telia. “Aw,” Gaelin mocked, “did the wittle pwogeny hurt the ugwy bender’s feewings?” Gaelin dawned a serious expression. “I’m sure it was that attitude that got you that face.”

The bender let out a shrill cry of fury and took another few shuffling steps towards Gaelin.

“Enough!” roared the raspy voice of the Drifter. “Stupid creature. Do you not see that he is goading you to draw you away from the girl?”

Littleman took several ragged breaths before calming himself. Then he gave Gaelin the most malicious smile he’d ever seen in his life. Littleman turned back to Telia and stalked towards her altar.

“No!” Gaelin shouted. “You ugly sack of shit!” But Gaelin could have been shouting at a brick wall for all of the good it did.

Littleman hovered over Telia, who was now whimpering softly. He raised the knife over the small girl, grinned at Gaelin once more, and then plunged the knife straight down into the girl’s stomach.

“NO!” Gaelin screamed. He thrashed and yanked at his chains, but despite his best efforts, the chains held firm.

Littleman quivered and released a sigh of pleasure as he drew the dagger from the girl’s tiny body.

Telia didn’t scream, didn’t struggle. She turned her head to look at Gaelin, the effort sapping what little strength she had left. “Th-thank you m-mister for t-trying to help me.” She smiled at him as she said this. Then, with a last exhale, the little masker expired.

Hot tears streamed sorrowfully down Gaelin’s face. He couldn’t save her. He had promised to protect her, to keep her safe, yet there she lay, her little lifeless body no longer moving, no longer drawing breath.

A soft light trickled from Telia’s corpse upwards towards the dimmed crystal above her altar, the stone seeming to drink the light in until the light faded and the crystal radiated a luminous blood red like all of the others.

A rage unlike anything Gaelin had ever felt, ever even seen in another, came over him. It was the fire of pure and righteous fury. He dove down deep into his own soul, heading straight for the core of the ocean of power that had been blocked from him. He reached down within himself as deep as he could, ignoring the pain of the unbreakable chains and bypassing his own element of power.

“Search your spirit…” Gaia’s words echoed in Gaelin’s head. He did just that, and to his surprise, no resistant met him. He pulled at the ocean of power, drawing as much of it into himself as he could to the point where his soul was practically bursting with power, and yet he kept pulling. He didn’t care if he died now as long as he took these monsters with him. No more children would suffer at the hands of these two. He would put a stop to this here and now, even if it cost him his life. He had made this decision the moment he had seen Telia stretched upon that altar.

“Get…away…from her…now,” Gaelin said. The words forcing themselves out between his clenched jaw and pursed lips.

In the background the Drifter had begun chanting in a strange language, nearly drowning out Gaelin’s words.

Littleman cocked his head questioningly at Gaelin. “I’m sorry,” he sniffed in his nasally voice, “What was that? All I could hear was you crying over your poor little friend here.” He raised one of Telia’s limp arms and waved it mockingly at Gaelin.

Gaelin sat up as much as the chains would allow and stared straight into Littleman’s eyes. “If you touch her again, I will destroy you where you stand.” His words were calm, measured, and full of promise, but his eyes burned with the intensity of the Sun.

Littleman cackled again. “So sad. She was such a pretty little thing,” he said as he moved one of Telia’s bangs from in front of her empty eyes.

Gaelin didn’t say another word. He focused some of the power he’d drawn into his arms and legs, and as easily as ripping paper he tore the chains from the altar, snapping them cleanly where the cuffs met the links.

Littleman gasped and took a step backwards.

“I warned you,” was all Gaelin said. He unleashed a beam of chromatic light as thick as a tree trunk directly at Littleman’s chest.

Littleman turned to run, but had barely managed to point himself in the right direction before the beam of light burned a hole through the center of his back, and then kept going to punch several feet into the stone wall. He had just enough time to glance down at the gaping wound before falling lifeless to the stone floor.

Gaelin turned his gaze to the Drifter, whose chanting had now reached a fevered pitch. A dark cloud of inky black was swirling in a whirlwind just above the altar where Gaelin had been.

Gaelin looked around and noticed that four of the five crystals had gone dark, their trapped souls devoured by the whirlwind of death. He quickly hurried over to the crystal above Telia’s body and pried the crystal from the stone outcropping. He gently placed the crystal to the side of the chamber, away from the swirling vortex.

“You will replace that crystal,” came the raspy voice of the Drifter.

Gaelin stood up and faced the monster O’Connor, noticing there was no trace of the man left other than a vague resemblance in figure.

O’Connor’s skin had turned a mottled grey with black splotches peppering it. At his shoulders, elbows and knees, stony protrusions jutted out reminiscent of the stone outcroppings above the five altars and of the dark world Gaia had shown him. A similar material covered O’Connor’s face, but here it was veined with pulsing red lines that bunched at the eyes. None of O’Connor’s other facial features were visible and his head was smooth and black like chipped obsidian.

“You,” Gaelin said, gathering more of his latent power. He extended his forefinger and a bolt of light zipped through the air towards the Drifter.

O’Connor casually waved a hand through the air and the beam of light hit an invisible force and was redirected into a nearby wall.

“Come now. Do you really think your little light show can harm me? I am the apex of my realm. Perhaps your tricks worked on him,” he said looking over at Littleman’s corpse, “but he was weak, like you are, like every creature of this realm is. You’re all soft, like ripened fruit ready for the picking. And when I feast upon you and that bitch you call your maker, I will transcend the boundaries of both realms to become something so much greater.”

As he said this, O’Connor reached a hand up towards the dark vortex. It responded to his movement, drawing in on itself, tighter and tighter, until it was nothing more than a swirling mass the size of a basketball. He raised his hand higher, spread his fingers, and dropped his hand like a hammer.

The vortex expanded so fast, Gaelin had little time to react as the vortex slammed down on him.

Luckily, Gaelin’s training had sharpened his senses and he threw a hand up over his head without thinking, catching the vortex in a shimmering shield of light. The shield created an inverted half-dome, like a bowl, and caught the pressing vortex.

“I admire your courage, however misplaced it may be,” O’Connor hissed, “but do you really believe you can withstand all of this power?”

As O’Connor spoke, Gaelin felt O’Connor’s will infusing the vortex with additional strength.

He’s so strong, Gaelin thought. His legs began to quiver and Gaelin dropped to one knee before both of his legs buckled.

The shield pressed closer and closer to Gaelin’s head as he struggled to maintain it. He fed more power to the shield, buying himself a bit more time, but at the rate he was going, even the vast source of his true power would eventually run dry. He had to do something and fast.

A thought crossed Gaelin’s mind. The empty crystals from the four drained souls lay scattered around the room, one of which was resting behind a stone altar. If the crystals were used to funnel a soul, perhaps the same would work on the Drifter.

The logic seemed sound, but there was no way to be sure, and there was no guarantee that the crystal would be able to hold such a powerful creature for any extended period of time, if at all. Yet, it was a better plan than anything else he had at the moment. Hell, it was his only plan.

But how would Gaelin find an opening? O’Connor had easily deflected his last attack. Gaelin thought for a moment longer before making up his mind. He would have to open himself up to an attack in order to get his opening. He would probably die doing so, but as long as he took the Drifter with him it didn’t matter. Gaelin was already resigned to his fate.

Siphoning the last of the vast power within him, Gaelin raised his other hand and pumped everything he had into his shield. Slowly, the shield widened and Gaelin was able to regain his feet. Sweat ran in rivers down his entire body which quaked with the monumental effort.

With one last push, Gaelin angled the shield away and sent both the shield and the trapped vortex spiraling into a nearby way. The wall exploded in a shower of rocks and boulders and Gaelin was forced to dive behind one of the altars. His aim had been true though and he landed behind the altar, right next to the diminished crystal. He quickly snatched it up.

“Impressive,” chuckled the Drifter. “I wouldn’t have thought it possible, but perhaps I have underestimated the Progeny of Gaea.”

“Well, maybe we should call it a day and go home,” Gaelin said.

“Go home? You misunderstand. If anything, I am more eager than ever to take your power from you. Never would I have dreamed that such a powerful being could come from this meager realm.” O’Connor’s hungry tone sent a chill up the stairs of Gaelin’s spine.

“Worth a shot,” Gaelin muttered under his breath.

“Come Progeny, stand and face me. I know you’ve expended the last of your power.”

Gaelin rose to meet O’Connor’s challenge.

O’Connor tapped the side of his nose. “I can smell your exhaustion, remember?” He said with a grin. This statement caught Gaelin’s attention. It had been something O’Connor had said to him during their first encounter, when O’Connor still possessed somewhat of a mortal soul. Perhaps, just maybe, there was something of the human left to trap in the crystal.

“Now, come and kneel before me and perhaps I won’t destroy you outright,” O’Connor rasped as he pointed to the cavern floor at his feet.

Gaelin dawned a resigned expression and slowly trudged towards the creature until he was mere inches from it. The stench of death was so overpowering that Gaelin felt it hard to remain standing.

Slowly, Gaelin dropped to one knee.

“Good,” O’Connor said and let out a dry laugh that sounded like the ruffling of dried leaves. “This will all be over shortly.”

“Yes,” Gaelin said, looking up, the hint of a smile quirking at the corners of his mouth, “it will be.” And with that, Gaelin leapt up.

“NO!” Screamed O’Connor, as he brought his clawed hand down for the final blow.

Gaelin shifted ever so slightly so that the blow fell just below his left shoulder, cutting through skin and bone like a warm knife through butter. Instantly he felt his left arm vanish, but he gritted his teeth through the pain while his right hand produced the crystal.

With the little strength he had left, Gaelin thrust the pointed end of the crystal directly into O’Connor’s chest before falling backwards onto the floor.

O’Connor stood stunned for a moment then looked down at half of the crystal protruding from his chest. After a moment, nothing happened and O’Connor laughed maniacally.

“Fool,” he said, “I am a creature from another realm. We do not have souls like you weak humans.” With that, he plucked the crystal from his chest and raised it in front of him, all while looking down on Gaelin with a victorious luminance in his eyes, the fractured black irises dilating as if readying to swallow Gaelin whole.

Gaelin smiled back up at the creature in between grunts of pain. “I didn’t think your kind did.”

“Then what pray tell did you hope to accomplish with such a futile act?”

“Your kind may not have a soul, but mine does,” Gaelin said, and he tapped the side of his nose. “O’Connor’s human soul is still in there. I can smell it.”

No sooner had Gaelin spoken the words, the crystal began to pulse with red light. A trickle of shadow poured from the hole in O’Connor’s chest and intermingled with it, the same subtle light that Gaelin had seen exit Telia’s body. O’Connor’s soul.

O’Connor let out a piercing shriek of terror and tried to throw the crystal away, but it remained firmly stuck to his hand. With each movement more of the intertwined souls gushed forth into the crystal.

“This cannot be,” the creature wailed, “I am immortal!”

“And you can spend the rest of your immortality trapped in there asshole.”

After a moment more, the creature fell silent as the last of the shadowy soul filled the crystal.

Once it was finished, the husk of the creature’s body fell forward and hit the stone floor, bursting into dust and thousands of chipped fragments. The crystal fell towards the ground, but Gaelin shot out his remaining good arm and snagged the crystal just before it struck the stone surface. He fumbled around until he located a pocket and shoved the crystal inside, and then blissfully fell into unconsciousness.

…

Gaelin awoke in the void, yet this time he was already at the base of the world pyramid. There waiting for him was Gaia and two other figures he couldn’t make out due to the clouds of light swirling around them.

Gaia greeted him with the same warm smile that she had given him before and he returned her smile with a wave of his left hand.

He froze. His left hand. His left arm! He brought his hand in front of his face and stared hard at the fingers, half expecting them to vanish. When they didn’t, he wigged his fingers a few more times and then looked up at Gaia with a questioning look.

“I have restored your essence my Progeny.” She said with a satisfied tone. “After what you have accomplished here today, it’s the least I could do.”

Gaelin turned his wiggling fingers into a thumbs up and then immediately criticized himself for such a lame response. This prompted a round of giggling from Gaia that sounded like wind chimes ringing on a subtle breeze. Gaelin scratched the back of his head and then flashed her a crooked grin. “I’m happy I could help,” he said, “and that I wasn’t devoured and my soul forced to face endless torment for all time,” he quickly added.

After a moment, his face fell into a look of sorrow.

Gaia, noticing this, took a step forward and placed a soft hand on his shoulder. “What troubles you my Progeny?”

Gaelin shook his head and several tears sprinkled the ground at his feet. “I – I couldn’t save them. O’Connor and…Telia. I promised her I would, but in the end, I failed her.”

A touch softer than a feather brushed his chin and Gaelin raised his eyes to see Gaia smiling again at him, her hand gently lifting his head. “You did as much as you could my child, of that I am without doubt.”

“But it wasn’t enough,” he whispered.

This time Gaia smiled even wider. “Perhaps it was.”

Gaelin’s eyes widened as Gaia turned to face the two figures masked in light. With a wave of her hand, the shrouds of light fell away to reveal two people Gaelin recognized instantly.

“O’Connor! And, Telia!” he nearly shouted. Both figures stepped forward with wide grins on their faces.

“Hey freak,” O’Connor said, his voice full of joviality.

“Hi mister,” squeaked little Telia. “Please don’t be sad. You saved us. Without you, the darkness would have us forever.” She ran up to Gaelin, who promptly dropped to one knee and scooped the girl up in a firm hug.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t do more.” He whispered to her.

“As mother said, you did plenty.” Telia beamed at him.

Gaelin set Telia down and she returned to Gaia’s side. O’Connor stepped forward his hand outstretched to shake Gaelin’s.

“Listen, before you go beating yourself up,” O’Connor said, “just realize that there was nothing you could have done for me. I was too far gone by that point. That creature had me dead to rights. If anything, you did me the greatest kindness you ever could. You got me out of that thing’s hold. You freed me.”

Gaelin stepped forward and took O’Connor’s hand. After a firm shake, he raised an eyebrow questioningly. “But how are you here now? The creature had your soul. Don’t get me wrong, I’m more than ecstatic that you are, but I don’t see how it is possible.”

O’Connor chuckled and turned towards Gaia. “I’ll leave that to you.”

“Normally you’d be correct my Progeny, but given the nature of the crystal you trapped both the shift and the other inside of, it left the creature’s nature much more…,” she paused, thinking of the correct word, “malleable.”

“Umm, okay?” Gaelin said stupidly.

Gaia shook her head and smiled again. “With the creature’s power hindered such as it was, I was able to unwind O’Connor’s soul from its grasp.”

“Ah, I see now,” said Gaelin. “So, what happens now?”

“Now, you return to fulfill your duties to me and my children. The breach has been sealed, and the other locked away. The well no longer is in danger.”

“Am I still stuck in that vile cave?” Gaelin asked with a shiver.

“Indeed you are, but I have…pointed the Circle in the right direction and they have already dispatched your – babysitter, I believe is the expression you once used.”

Gaelin smacked a palm to his forehead. “Oh crap, Raul is going to kill me.”

“He dare not lay a hand on my Progeny,” Gaia said.

“No, no it was just an expr – you know what, never mind.” Gaelin huffed. He couldn’t be sure but he could have sworn he heard a grunt of laughter from O’Connor.

“Come my Progeny, there is one other we must discuss.”

Gaelin noticed a stern tone in Gaia’s voice which instantly put him on guard. He cast a questioning glance towards his two friends.

Gaia, reading his response, shook her head. “Your allies will be awaiting you back at your physical body. What I mean to speak with you on, is a matter of a more personal nature.”

“What? You can do that?” Gaelin nearly shouted the questions at her, and then realized he had just nearly shouted at THE Gaia. “Sorry,” he quickly added.

Gaia simply laughed and nodded her head. “I am, as you say, THE Gaia. Did I not restore your missing limb?”

“Good point.”

Gaia gave a wave of her hand, and both O’Connor and Telia began to fade.

“See you soon Mister!” Telia said excitedly, before grabbing O’Connor’s hand. Gaelin couldn’t help but to smile knowing they would be waiting for him on the other side.

Once Telia and O’Connor were gone, Gaelin turned back towards Gaia. “So what did you want to discuss?” He noticed that the stern expression had returned to her face.

“I fear a difficult road lay before you my child.”

Gaelin suppressed a shudder. “What could be more difficult than what I just faced?”

“You faced a monumental challenge at a brief moment in time. The trials you will face will follow you forever.”

Gaelin took a breath. “Okay, what is it?”

“Due to your recent interaction with the Drifter, I fear a touch of corruption has influenced your power.”

“Am I going to turn into an Other?” He asked with hesitation.

“No, you will not turn, but being touched by the corruption is not without its drawbacks.”

Gaelin could sense Gaia was trying to speak delicately, for his sake. This angered him. Hadn’t he just gone to bat for her and for the rest of the world? Whatever it was, he would face it. He wasn’t a child and didn’t want to be treated as such.

Noticing the change in Gaelin’s expression, and perhaps reading his frustration, Gaia spoke again. “Calm yourself my child. You’ve been through a great ordeal. I only wish to spare you the harshness of the truth you face, but I see you’d prefer the full disclosure.”

Saying nothing, Gaelin nodded once.

“Very well. You will remain my Progeny, of course, but as I said, the nature of your power will change. You will become an entropic.” Gaia didn’t elaborate further.

Gaelin focused on the final word, entropic. It was another type of magic user, but one largely hated and considered evil. An entropic’s power worked much like that of radiation, breaking down everything touched or affected by the field of power given off.

A moment of panic seized Gaelin. He had always been a champion of life, using the elemental forces of life to protect, and now he would become a dealer of death, resigned to a single, malicious power.

“Is there nothing you can do to stop it?” He asked softly.

Gaia’s face softened. “I am sorry. You understand now what the future hold for you?”

“Yes.” He said. Gaelin knew perfectly well what was implied. He would become hated, feared, and largely untrusted. He would remain a powerful progeny, but his title would do little to spare him of the scorn he would face.

“Does this change who you are?” Came Gaia’s warm voice, flowing through his mind as much as it had been spoken aloud.

No, he thought. It didn’t. He would still fight, still protect, in any way he could. That, at least, would remain unchanged. And now he had help, he had allies, he had friends.

Again, he felt the feather touch of Gaia’s hand upon his chin.

“Fret not, my dearest child. I will be with you as will your friends. You will not be alone. You will face persecution for what you will become, but in time, they will all come to see that their champion is still their own.”

Gaelin took a deep breath and nodded once. “Alright. How long do I have?”

“A year. Perhaps a bit longer. I will send word to those that matter to expect the change, and to look out for you. You will remain my Progeny until the time comes for me to call you home.” As Gaia spoke, she moved closer to him, bringing her face to within inches of his own. Then Gaia did something completely unexpected. She placed a single, soft kiss on his lips. It wasn’t a sensual kiss, but more of a kiss like a parent would grant their child in a show of love and affection.

Once Gaia drew away, Gaelin felt an overwhelming sense of calm, of well-being, that radiated warmth down into his very core. Afterwards, he found himself standing just a bit straighter.

“Okay,” he said, “I’m ready. Send me back.” He allowed himself a small smile. Despite what he would face, he still had Gaia, he still lived, and he still had his friends.

“Close your eyes,” Gaia said.

Gaelin did so, but opened them quickly with suspicion. “Wait, you’re not going to shove me again, are you?”

Gaia’s tinkling laughter danced around him. “No, my dearest. Close your eyes and focus on that which you love.”

Gaelin did so, thinking of Telia and O’Connor, and the beautiful world he worked so hard to preserve.

“Now open them,” said Gaia, her voice little more than a whisper echoing through his mind.

Gaelin opened his eyes and found two smiling faces staring joyfully down at him.

***