MAKENA DARYA

I trudge through the deep snow towards what I can only assume is one of the many permanent settlements or ‘camps’ popping up around the outskirts of the main cities. Since The Hue started, people have begun to move east towards the coast and its larger cities. For many, big cities stirred in the minds of those well enough to brave the unpredictable weather that the cities would welcome them with open arms. Unfortunately, someone failed to mention to them that they would be met with blockades of armed soldiers.

Three of them within five miles of the walls, several surrounding the base of the walls and one on the wall itself. Hundreds of armed guards on a fixed rotation watching and scanning for someone dumb or desperate enough to take off running in the direction of the fifty-foot wall.

What do they think they were going to do when they got there? Scale the thing, fly, jump, and hope for the best? That's to say you make it past the shower of bullets first. 

The snow has soaked my trousers right the way through, leaving my legs feeling as though I’ve been sitting in an ice bath for too long. My jaw is clenched to stop my teeth from chattering, however, no amount of shoving my hands in my armpits seems to keep my fingers warm. I think if it was a few degrees colder the sweat on my temples would freeze over. The waist-deep snow is making moving at a reasonable pace near impossible, I estimate that I’ve possibly only done about six to ten miles in the four hours I left the warmth of the chambers. I would give my firstborn to be back in the depths of Hel strewn over The Lady in Red’s thrown. 

I can picture it now, her delicate frame draped over my knee as I draw lazy circles on her back with my finger in dreary silence. Her unflinching eyes quietly watching her army of subservient inferiors below. The very thought seems to fill my chest with a burning warmth, biting off the cold for a minute or two. 

I let out a long sigh and watch as my breath quickly turns into an angry cloud of condensation. I have finally covered enough distance to see clouds of smoke from the settlement, furiously twisting their way through the grey sky. As the distance starts to close between us the snow starts to thin, mostly from people traipsing up and down from the forest in search of food and firewood. I stumble my way onto a shovelled-out path along the snow, snaking towards the rows of makeshift tents. As I approach the outermost tent, I begin to feel a prick in the back of my mind, like a dull ache, somewhat similar to the beginnings of a severe headache. The ache intensifies as I come within touching distance of the flimsy structure. From the intensity of the pain, I can only assume there are at least thirty people crammed into the small walls of canvas and tarp, fighting for whatever warmth they can leach off each other.

It is in that moment that I am met with the concoction of smells the camp has to offer; stale water, mud, smoke, rotting food and an overwhelming amount of body odour that feels as though it could singe my nose hairs. 

A gust of cold wind rips through the camp and low moans and groans can be heard from within the rickety tent. I stop for a brief moment and watch as the canvas walls helplessly fight against the wind as it tugs on its faded green fraying corners. I begin to move around the structure to relieve myself of the growing ache, careful not to shift the snow collecting near its pegs. 

Around the other side is a clearing leading into the centre of the camp where a large fire dimly burns, the flames choking under the heavy wind, it is kept alight by days, maybe weeks of garbage judging by the stench. 

There are a number of people milling around the fire hopping from foot-to-foot hands extended out in front of them trying to catch some of the warmth for themselves. I stay close to the outermost tents furthest away from the hundreds of emotions my mind is reaching out to. My head has been left throbbing since I passed the cramped tent, it’s a funny thing, being able to pick up on the emotions of others. Greed, lust, happiness, desperation, despair, joy, anything a human being can feel my brain picks up on. The more people, the more intense the headaches, the more noise in my head and the reason why I don’t make it a habit of staying on the surface longer than required. 

Today, The Lady has sent me to the surface in search of “the most emotionally destroyed human being you can find.” I can only hope that that breed of human exists in this particular camp. 

There is some truth in the hopes that the big cities would welcome those in need, when The Hue first struck on the morning of May fourth of two-thousand and thirty-six, cities opened their gates “to anyone who could make it through the gates by midnight.” After the initial intake, the gates shut permanently leaving those who didn’t make it through to die. 

The ones who survived began to set up camps around the walls, initially, the cities tried to accommodate for those who didn’t make it through by sending a large eighteen-wheel truck through the gates once a month. It contained the basics, blankets, tarp, food rations and a handful of medical supplies too. 

It was the same day the truck arrived that you could ‘apply’ to be moved into the city. If you proved to be of use to them you were in, if not, you were shot at point-blank range in the head. Scientists, engineers, doctors and veterans were among the people whose applications were accepted, singers, artists, lawyers and accountants’ applications were ‘denied’. 

Very soon, the cities realised this was not sustainable and ceased supply drops, the smaller cities caving first. This particular camp surrounds one of the smallest cities on the east coast which explains why it is in such poor condition. I have been through other camps, some with running water, almost all with proper military-grade tents, from what I can see this one isn’t one of the lucky ones. The only military grade item in this camp are the boots on one of the men standing around the fire. Tents have been hastily thrown together from tarp and pieces of canvas tenting all tied down by handbound rope. The materials most likely bargained or stolen from other camps or some of the only items issued from the city when The Hue began seven months ago. 

My jaw is tight and sore from clenching it for so long and I finally give into the chattering, I have given up on keeping my fingers warm and accepted the possibility of losing them to frostbite. After all, if I can complete this mission and bring the correct human to The Lady, I am hoping she will be gracious enough to replace them, losing a finger to receive her praise is well worth it. 

I have made it halfway around the camp, staying close to the outer ring tents, the view of the fire peaking in and out between them as I move silently along. I plan on circling the camp until I find what I am looking for, trusting my mind to pull me towards the strongest release of emotions. 

I have enough confidence in this place to know that the emotions are not going to be love or happiness, this place is plagued in a heavy blanket of depression even someone without my abilities could pick up on. The assortment of depressed minds is going to make it a little more challenging, the two strongest emotions projected by humans are happiness and despair. This camp is a sea of despair, sorrow and hopelessness, my brains’ imaginary hands are reaching out, extending far and wide in search of the worst of the worst. It is leaving my chest feeling as though someone is sitting on it, my breathing is shallow, and I can hear my heart thudding in my ears. 

Even in the depths of Hel my head and chest feel light, granted, all The Lady’s inferiors lack a soul, their every move and action controlled by Hers Truly, but this place, this place is something I don’t want to encounter again anytime soon. 

My invisible fingers are still searching as I make it to the most westerly point of the camp. I climb through a small mound of snow that has settled over a fallen log and in one swift movement jump onto it, I can see the entire camp from my vantage point. 

My entire body is violently shaking from the sharp bite of the wind that seems to reach right to my bones, a few of my fingers have begun to turn a deep purple, I silently curse myself for not accepting the gloves The Lady tried to hand to me before I left her chambers. I blame my numb mind, that was the first time she had allowed me to pleasure her, her moans echoed through the stone room as a knelt in front of her. After she collected herself, she sent me on my mission, handing me a pair of gloves. 

“Damien.” The word a purr “take these, I wouldn’t want you losing a finger now that our arrangement has had a slight adjustment.” She cooed. 

“Thank you, My Lady," I said turning to her "however, I will not be needing those, I will be back in time before they will become effective," I said with a tight smile.  

“Besides, since our arrangement has taken a more dynamic path, I trust you will have no problem replacing my missing digits," I said with a wink and vanished to the surface.  

Standing on the log, relishing in the memory, picturing her pleasure-stricken face as I finished her off, I make a silent promise to myself to do it to her again when I get home.

Atop my new vantage point, I close my eyes and allow my mind and its invisible fingers to reach out towards the camp and sift through its depressed minds. I stay there for a long time waiting, waiting for something or someone to catch my attention. I will not return to The Lady until I have the mortal she very much desires. 

Standing on the fallen log with my eyes closed in silence is beginning to have a calming effect on me. My invisible fingers are still combing through the camp in search of a worthy mortal, but the silence instead of being deafening is welcoming. I feel my chest growing lighter with every deep breath I inhale the crisp winter air. This moment feels oddly freeing, filling my chest with warmth. I recall my invisible fingers enjoying the sensation of freedom floating through me, filling my consciousness and everything in between. When I see a young woman walking through the dense trees the sensation disappears and instead, I am filled with flaming anger that turns my chest to white fire, the kind of anger I've only seen The Lady possess, an anger I didn’t know I was capable of. 

“Come on! Come on!” I suddenly hear the young woman scream in frustration as she stalks away from the camp towards the dense thicket of pine trees. She is wearing a dark hooded sweatshirt pulled tightly over her head obscuring her face from my view. Her dark jeans are ripped at the knees, I'm not sure if it is for fashion or from wear. Her khaki green military boots are crunching on the snow as she quickly makes her way towards the tree line, her hands hastily shoved deep into her pockets to keep warm. 

Following her at a quickening pace is a tall scrawny looking man with hair as white as the snow on the ground, he appears to be in his early twenties. 

“Leave me alone Alec!” She yells over her shoulder. As he continues to approach swiftly closing the gap between them. He reaches for her wrist, grabs it and swings her around to face him. I can actually feel heat radiating off of me now. 

“Seriously, what the Hel is wrong with you!” she shouts as she jerks her arm out of his grasp. 

“Alec, I am leaving, get it in your thick nob, I am done with this camp, and I am sure as Hel done with you!” She spits the last word out like venom. I do not know what became of me, but I was already halfway towards them when I realised I was moving. I was fuming if I could breathe fire the camp would be engulfed in flames by now. Two more strides and I was in front of him.

“Who the fu…” and without thinking, I hit him square in the face. He stared at me for a moment dazed and then collapsed on the ground. Immediate relief washed over me as I gazed down at his limp form sprawled out onto the pristine white snow. Blood slowly trickling out of his lower lip and nose, tainting the frosty ground. The woman next to me let out a long breath presumably she’d been holding and looked me up and down. 

“Erm, thanks, I guess,” confusion furrowed on her brow. “I’m Ali,” she said extending her hand out towards me. “Well, Alika, Ali for short,” she added quickly. 

“Damien” I replied, reaching for her outstretched hand. It was warm to the touch despite the freezing cold temperature, the feeling of her callused skin lingered on mine for a few brief moments after we shook. 

Now that I was close enough to take a good look at her I could see dark brown curls poking out from underneath her hood, the loose strands framing her thin face. She stared at me breathlessly with her deep emerald eyes, I stared back harder admiring the construction of her iris’s. Delicate gold flakes outlined her dark pupils, intricately entangled with deep green strokes that branched outwards seamlessly blending into a breathtaking sea of green, her long fluttery lashes unblinking.

Her pale, greying skin was hanging off of her high cheekbones, giving her an almost skeletal look. Despite her current appearance and her dangerously thin frame, I can tell she is beautiful, breathtaking even. Well, to mortal standards, I only have eyes for The Lady. With a bit of meat on her bones, there is no doubt in my mind that she would be one of the most desired women in her camp. 

I slowly drag my eyes down her frame, past her charcoal dusted nose and rouge flushed checks to her plump rose lips, then down her pale freckled neck to the top of her hooded sweatshirt, I continue to lower my gaze until I reach her broad shoulders and her full chest. I wanted to study every inch of this woman standing breathless in front of me.

“Hey dickhead, my eyes are up here.” she snaps. Her green eyes narrow at mine as I make eye contact with her. She crosses her arms over her chest and glares at me. Her lips pressed so hard together they almost disappear. 

“I am terribly sorry Alika, forgiv…” I start. 

“It’s Ali, don’t call me Alika, no one calls me that anymore!” She snaps.

“Alika, I apologise,” I say with a bow. She’s still glaring at me but quickly glances down at the white-haired man then back at me, her arms still crossed over ger chest. I watch as it rapidly rises and falls beneath her folded arms. I can feel she is beyond angry, deliriously so, not from my blunder with her name or my wandering eyes but because of him. The prone form of the white-haired man laying between us.

I nudge my invisible fingers towards her, reaching for her emotions. Being this close to a mortal I usually wouldn’t need to reach out to feel their emotions but with Ali I can’t feel anything. It is weird, I am raking around at her mind, scratching at the walls in there, willing them to come down, but nothing.

I take a second, this doesn’t make sense. I can feel how angry she is, it is radiating off her in waves, she’s fuming. I too am fuming; my chest is hot like that white fire all over again. It is rising and falling just as rapidly as hers is and all I want to do is smash his face in. How can I feel this if I can’t feel her? I try again, focusing all my strength at her, sending my invisible fingers out faster and stronger, as if I was trying to reach someone back at camp. Still, I am met with nothing but a thick barrier I cannot break down, just like the walls around the cities. This is strange, this has never happened to me before. I should kill her, no one should be able to evade me prying at their emotions.

I lock eyes with Ali once more, our chests furiously rising and falling in sync, as if we were one. Faster, faster, faster they rise. Up, down, up, down, up down. My heart is thudding in my chest, I can feel the rapid thud-thud-thud-thud in my head, my ears, my arms. The world around me begins disappearing, becoming distant, like a dream. All I can see is her.

She drags her eyes away from mine, back towards the white-haired man. The world slowly shifts back into focus, dragging me out of the thunderous fury. I glance down, noting the rouge-stained snow pooling around his nose and mouth. A soft gurgle is coming from deep within his throat, barely audible above my own rapid breathing.

I snarl at him, lips curled upwards. I look up to see my expression mirrored on Ali’s hollow face.

Why I am so angry at the white-haired man? I want to kill him; I feel as though he has wronged me in some way, I can’t explain it, but I hate him, can I even feel hate? The fury surges up once more, the white fire begging to be set free. I am a demon from Hel I don’t have emotions. My job is to serve Her, this doesn’t make sense.

All I know in this moment, is that I want to grab him by his stupid white hair, pull him up off the ground, bring my blade to his neck and slice his throa-.

“WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING!” I hear Ali scream.

That snaps me out, as my surrounding come back into focus, I notice I am kneeling on the snow, I look up to find Ali looking down at me, shock visible on her face. I look down to see my left hand tangled in a clump of white hair with my blade gripped tightly in my right. Blood slowly rolls down the edge of the blade, I watch as it bobbles down the choil all the way down the belly before finally reaching the tip. It drips off into the fluffy white snow with a tink, staining it once again.

Relief floods my system, my chest lighter with every breath. I untangle my hand from the man’s white hair and his limp form falls to the snow with a thump. I stand up slowly, my knees weak for some reason. This should not be happening; I have killed more times than I can remember. It is what I was created to do, serve The Lady at all costs. Why am I frightened, why did this kill rattle me? There was no fight, no struggle, I do not know this man, I do not care for mortals, let alone him. Yet, my legs wobble like a new-born foal. My blade slips from my grasp and thuds softly at my feet.

I stand there in the snow, staring into the thicket of pine trees, the wind dangerously cold again and my jaw begins chattering uncontrollably once more.