All That Is Red (17 page)

The Pure One’s city was built around an open courtyard, which seemed to serve as the marketplace. Around the open area, doors dotted the walls. The buildings spiraled up many stories with
balcony walkways that opened out to the marketplace below.

The voices that filled the air were all from different people, yet they sounded the same. While they were clearly saying different things, they all seemed to be propelled by one force.

“Walk,” an unfeeling gruffly demanded, pushing me forward.

Staggering from the shove, my shoulder crashed into something. When I turned around to see what it was I had slammed into, I gasped. There were crates filled with Red prisoners.

The large wooden crates had about seven Trigon men crammed into each of them. There had to be more than fifteen crates filled with my people. Their arms all reached out to me from between the
bars of their confinements.

“Help me,” a voice cried out.

“Get me out of here.”

“I have a child,” yelled another one.

Their outstretched arms drew back a memory of the former commander’s funeral. The way she fell with her arms outstretched was exactly how these men looked now.

I was shoved forward again by the unfeeling behind me.

“Why are they in crates?” I asked, hesitant of the answer I knew I might receive.

“They’re awaiting execution.”

I backed away from the crates of wailing people and backed right into someone else. I turned around apologizing.

“Ralph?” My voice was only a whisper, but he heard me.

“I don’t think I know you.” His voice was harsh and dripping with cold. He turned around and walked away from me, melding into the crowd of unfeelings, as I stood there
screaming out his name.

My breath was cut short as the unfeeling behind me thrust me forward yet again.

“Keep walking.”

I followed the unfeeling in front of me. Eventually we came to a stop outside one of the many doors that speckled the wall. The unfeeling leading our small party entered the building, while the
one behind me waited outside, presumably to guard me.

The sound of murmuring escaped from the door. Although I didn’t know what they were talking about, I had a suspicion that it was about me. When the unfeeling walked out of the room, I
couldn’t begin to guess what had occurred in there, as his face was completely devoid of emotion.

“The Pure One wants to see you.”

That was all he said, as he began climbing the stairs next to the door. The staircase wound upwards, as if never ending. We passed floor after floor, only to keep walking up.

We eventually reached the uppermost floor. Looking down from the balcony walkway, I realized that the city had been planned around the circular marketplace. It was as if the rooms were a
fortress around the common congregation area.

The floor only had one set of doors in the middle of the circular walkway. Upon reaching it, I was surprised by the lack of guards outside the door. However, that was answered when I saw the two
sets of guards on either side of the door on the inside.

The room we entered had one desk in the middle of it. At the desk sat an older unfeeling woman.

“The Pure One doesn’t take visitors,” she automatically said, without looking up when she heard the sound of the door closing behind us. She seemed to act like a receptionist
or secretary to The Pure One.

“The Pure One asked to see us,” the guard beside me said.

The receptionist frowned and looked back down at her books. She sighed and exited the room using a door to the side of her desk. She was gone only a few minutes before she came back to admit
us.

“Right this way,” she sighed, holding the door open for us. She let me walk through, but stopped the two unfeeling guards who were following me. “Not you two,” she
insisted.

The door closed behind me, trapping me in a room full of darkness. It took some time for my eyes to adjust, but even when they finally did, all I could make out was a glowing White figure
standing at the far end of the room. I approached it. I realized it was the same figure I had seen in my dreams and reflected in the blade. As I got closer, the figure came into focus and I
realized it was me, myself.

The Pure One, if that was really what the image in front of me was, was a mirror image of myself. It wore the same familiar features and the same expression. The only difference was that it was
an unfeeling. That alone made all the difference. That difference contorted the expression it wore into one of callous coldness. That difference distorted the same features I wore into something
cruel and soulless.

“You’ve kept me waiting,” The Pure One said, as coolly as if it had been waiting as long as it claimed.

“I hope it hasn’t been too long.” I tried to match the coldness in its voice.

“You can now see for yourself that I was telling the truth. You are a part of me. Just look at our similar appearances.”

A part of me believed The Pure One. We looked identical, surely, that must be evidence enough in itself that we were one and the same. It would explain why I couldn’t feel, I’m not
human. I’m a part of The Pure One. However, another part of me disagreed. It found some small contradiction in myself and couldn’t let it go.

“Give up,” The Pure One said. “Don’t deny who you really are. You are me.”

I found my body surrendering to the words of The Pure One. Maybe it was right? Maybe I should give up? It would be easier. Besides, what did I have to lose? I had already lost the ability to
feel.

“You can’t lie to yourself,” it continued.

More than half of me was convinced that The Pure One was right, but there was still that small part that continued to resist. I didn’t know why, but it seemed to see through The Pure One.
There was something I wasn’t consciously seeing, something I was missing.

And then it hit me. Of course, there was one thing I had failed to consider. The Pure One had said that I was a part of it, but what if it was actually the reverse? What if The Pure One was
really a part of me?

“You’re lying,” I said, while walking closer. I tried to feel as confident as I sounded. “I’m not a part of you. I never was. You’re a part of me.”

The Pure One let out a mocking laugh. It sounded unnatural against the silence that surrounded us.

“I hope you don’t believe that,” it mocked. “If you do, you’re only hurting yourself.” The Pure One continued, “In this vale of emotion and
ephemerality, you don’t have any power. You are as weak as the rest, while I am in command. Join me while you can. You don’t have to give up a part of yourself, because you already lack
emotion.”

“But you forget one thing I would have to give up and that’s my humanity.”

“And what is that? You can’t feel how it is to be alive, so what worth is that to you?”

“Everything,” I said and I knew then what I had to do.

Every step pushing down on me like a lead weight, I closed the gap between The Pure One and myself. As I did so, my blade was already unsheathed in my hand.

“You can’t kill me,” The Pure One said. “I’m a part of you. If you do, you risk killing yourself.”

“I can’t feel my humanity, though I’m sure I still have it. So that’s a risk I’m willing to take.”

Before The Pure One could say another word, the force of my hand drove the blade into where The Pure One’s heart would have been, if it had one. The resistance my hand felt was not of
flesh though, or air, or of any sort of anything I would or could have imagined. When the blade hit The Pure One, The Pure One’s image cracked into a thousand pieces and crumbled before my
eyes.

The mirage crashing down revealing another room on the other side of where the glass or mirror had been. I looked down at the shards that were once The Pure One. I couldn’t tell whether
they were once part of a mirror and The Pure One was in fact myself, or if they really were glass and The Pure One was a separate entity that I had killed.

I stood there for a while, not from shock, just waiting to feel something. I didn’t feel any different. I didn’t feel anything.

Another crashing sound broke my reverie and I woke up to the world around me. I walked out of the room, neither hurrying up nor slowing down. Finding the reception room empty and the noise
coming from below even louder, my pace quickened into a run. I burst out of the room onto the balcony walkway and I looked down to see the sight for which I had been waiting.

The place that had once been an open market was now overrun with members of the Red cause. The stalls, which had been standing just a few hours ago, were now all strewn on the ground like
playing cards. The White was fighting back, but the Red cause was clearly winning.

I rushed down the flights of stairs. With each level I passed, the noise increased and the Red came another step closer to victory. By the time I was on the ground, there was no doubt that the
Red was going to win.

The White was starting to retreat and members of it fled the city. Those who stayed and fought courageously, fought until their death. The Red was, ultimately, victorious.

There were shouts and yells of delight as everyone realized that the war was over and we had conquered the White. The remaining unfeelings were banished. Most would likely never show their faces
again.

The ground was strewn with bodies and the gutters flowed with fresh blood. Our footsteps were painted for all to see with the pink mingled blood of both the dead White and the dead Red. The
bodies all looked the same. I couldn’t tell which had been unfeelings in life and which had been members of the Red cause. They were all pale and in death, they were united.

It was then I saw Gerrard and called out to him. “Were there many casualties?”

“On both sides,” he said. “But that’s only what could be expected with a war like this.”

“Devonport?” I asked, finding myself worried for her for the first time.

“Right there.” Gerrard pointed and I saw her helping pile the dead bodies into a heap.

“And Nalin?”

“He didn’t come. He’s still on crutches. But he readied us for the war with the information you and the commander logged for us.”

“The boy? He made it back?”

“Yes and, as expected, he was perfectly fine. He told us of what had happened to you and he called for war early.”

“Where is he?” I asked, already looking around for him.

“Probably celebrating his new found victory.” Gerrard grinned. “I don’t know, but I’ll keep an eye out for him.”

I thanked him and started looking for the boy on my own. I asked random people where the boy was, but no one knew.

“He’s probably somewhere celebrating,” they all said. That made me look for him even harder, but he was nowhere to be found.

At last, I found him by a pile of carcasses. “Was this what you wanted?” I asked him.

“More or less,” he grinned. “I could probably have done without the blood though.” He started to laugh, but instead he grimaced.

“What’s wrong?” I asked.

“Nothing,” he was quick to say.

I looked at him. I knew him well enough to know that something was troubling him.

“Nothing that you have to worry about,” he insisted.

I looked at him again and it was only then that I realized there was blood on his shirt. “That’s not your blood, is it?”

He was silent.

“Oh, God,” I heard myself say. “Call a nurse ...” I started yelling, but the boy cut me off.

“It’s too late,” he said. “Don’t ruin the victory for them.”

“What are you saying? That gash on your chest can’t be that deep.”

“But the one on my neck is.” When he turned to look at me, I saw the cut on the side of his neck. He had already lost a lot of blood. I knew he was right in saying that he
didn’t have long to live, but I didn’t want to believe it.

“We can get help. Maybe it’s not too late ...” But the boy and I both knew the truth. “There are so many things you haven’t done yet. You’re not old enough to
die.” By now, I was just blabbering hysterically.

“But I’m old enough to have lived,” he said. “And that’s what counts.”

I wish I could have felt something at those words; sadness, terror, anything. But I was still numb.

“You know, I finally killed The Pure One,” I said, telling him all the things I needed to tell him before he died.

“I had a suspicion that you were the one that the prophecy talked about.” He grinned and I guessed he was trying not to think about the pain. “And did you find what you
sought?”

I tried to laugh, remembering the words he said to me so long ago. It seemed like the distant past, another lifetime.

“No, I did what I was supposed to do, but I found something better. My humanity.”

The boy smiled through his pain.

“And what about you? You never found a name.”

“I didn’t,” the boy said regretfully. “But maybe I don’t need one, as long as I can remember who I am.” And with that, his breath just stopped.

He died, as if he had just stopped talking. It didn’t seem like he was gone. He was still looking at me with the same eyes, in the same way he always had. His eyes were filled with love
and compassion.

Though there were cries of celebration and victory, I didn’t feel as though we had won the war. How could I when I had lost the one thing that was the most important to me, the best friend
that I ever had? It was the one thing I had never thought I would lose, but now, I realized I had lost a part of myself.

I felt a wetness running down my cheek. It was a tear. Another one followed it and yet another. I was crying. I felt the burning behind my eyes and in my throat. I felt the heaviness deep within
me. Most of all, I felt a sadness so acute and painful that my whole body racked with it.

It had taken this great loss to learn what I had always subconsciously known. I wasn’t cold and unfeeling like The Pure One, I was human. Although I had thought I couldn’t feel
emotions, I had felt them all along. They weren’t something you underwent like an experience. They were a part of you, something you could never lose, as long as you kept your humanity.

I reached over and closed the boy’s eyes. I would be the last person he ever laid eyes on in this world. The last person he looked upon with such love. And that was when I realized his
name. He was Love.