The Crimson Dawn
Raining Hell

Teyla’s jaw was tight, and her eyes were on fire as she glared silently at Runo, the leader of the Blues, arrogant and wise, Blues notoriously don’t get along with Reds. Igraine kept her arm around Atlas as she brought her to the arguing group of people, the scariest people in the whole of Kestva. She smiled at her reassuringly and Teyla snapped her gaze to her.

“What else did you see last night?! Besides the Elf?” Atlas froze, her mind racing over the boring patrol before the blood-eyed Elf. “Spit it out, Atlas!"

I jumped and Igraine held Atlas down so Teyla wouldn’t notice, sending a quick glare to Teyla. “Shhh, it’s okay, dear, just take a moment and think. Was there anything else out of the ordinary?”

Atlas shook her head. “Nothing. It was like any other patrol night until the end. I didn’t see anything; I swear on the Lord of Time.”

Igraine nodded, knowing that Atlas would invoke the God’s name without meaning it. Teyla sighed and mumbled something about being in the dark. Runo seemed frustrated with everyone around him, but more at himself since he didn’t have all the answers. Atlas felt the fear in the air, sticky and gooey and it stuck to everyone that walked past like spiderwebs.

“Some Reds have not returned from their patrols; including Marley and Garland,” Teyla clears her throat after she says this, the others looking at her like she had gone mad.

“You are going to sow panic into our people,” Runo whispered harshly, so harshly it was barely a whisper. Igraine’s hold tightened on Atlas’s shoulder, her face drawn together to make valleys and rivers of worry on her face.

“Panic brings us on high alert which is better than thinking you are on a measly stroll while on patrol,” Teyla growled back, their dark gazes boring into each other, trying to win their battle of wills.

“Panic causes them to be jumpy and nervous, there will be more accidents, more injuries. We must keep this quiet,” Aegar spoke, the yellows and blues agreeing on the matter.

“They must know what they are facing! Our Greens and Reds are well-trained to fight under these types of circumstances!” Kyr shouted above the bickering and Runo turned his hateful glare onto him.

“And what is it that they are facing? Please enlighten us, Kyr, if you know all-!”

Igraine interrupted their fighting, cutting through with her words like a sharpened butcher knife. “This enemy is unknown to us. We are missing people, we are all under extreme amounts of stress we have not endured since the Storm War, 40 years ago. We will sound the horn, we will call back our patrols, and Reds and Greens will guard our walls. The remaining yellows will set up out here and the Blues will provide magical support as needed. We Whites will fill in the gaps where we can. We will make this enemy come to us, do you understand? And no more bickering.”

Igraine’s scolding seemed to put everyone on the move- or into gear as Runo would say about something Atlas did not understand. Atlas moved slightly too, ready to put her life on the line for her home. She had completely forgotten the fear that came with her earlier brush with death, she was ready for the field once again. But Igraine stopped her, holding onto her tightly, the worry still etched into her beautiful face.

“Not you, Atlas… You are the only one who has gotten the Elf to speak, and I fear that what we are facing now are his targets. Go down and talk to him again, beg if you must,” Igraine pleaded and for the first time, Atlas saw fear in the older woman’s eyes. Igraine had always been so confident, a pillar to lean on but now… it was unnerving to see her covered in the webs of fear.

Atlas shook her head. “Kyr said he would never speak, that he would resist all of our attempts. I at least understand that he is loyal to his people and his duty.”

Igraine closed her eyes like she had a headache or was desperately trying to think of something. However everyone around us had erupted into chaos, Reds were running to the walls with weapons and shields and Greens carried crates of smoke bombs and arrows while Yellows and Blues set up themselves behind the wall. “He’s our only clue into what we are facing, Atlas, so please just try.”

Atlas looked down at the ground, ashamed she had even questioned Igraine at a time like now. “Yes, ma’am.”

Atlas got down into the cells as she heard war cries and screams from above. She swallowed down every instinct to run back and help her people fight, the horn blew, a deep war cry that drowned out the rest. Atlas had never heard that horn before, and Kestva had never been attacked before in Atlas’s lifetime, Kestva was so Holy they didn’t even get visitors. Now the faces she had grown up with, the only faces she’d ever known, were up there fighting and she was safe in the dark.

Atlas’s jaw tightened as she walked towards the Elf’s cell, it was so quiet that her ears rang, and her heavy footsteps echoed off the walls. It was unnerving for everything to be completely silent when she knew what was happening above her. Atlas stopped in front of Altair’s cell; he hadn’t moved from his spot on the ground. Red looked up at Atlas slightly and he made a slight disinterested noise.

“Who are you hunting?” Atlas asked but as the silence went on her temper started to flare and she hit her hands on the bars, they burned with pain, but Atlas ignored it. “My people are dying! Who are you hunting?!”

Altair sprung to his feet in a flash, his face pressing in between the bars, so close to hers, Atlas gasped slightly and took a step back. His red eyes judged her, and his face contorted into one of fury.

“Let me out.” He demanded Atlas didn’t feel like she had a choice, but she wanted information first.

“Who are they?”

Altair sighs, looking up as if he’s asking the Gods for help before he speaks. “Blood Sorcerers.”

Atlas’s jaw drops open, “They haven’t been seen for centuries,” Atlas laughed slightly in disbelief. “Not since the last Sanguine War 200 years ago. They’re dead and rotting in the Grim Wolf’s jaws.”

Atlas felt the truth grow in her belly, like an apple tree and she sighed as she lockpicked the cell door with her knife-like hair pins, her bun falling apart. Once the door swung open she worked on putting it back together and Altair stepped out, looking at her annoyed.

“You didn’t have a key?” Altair asked in a growly voice and she rolled her eyes, stepping past him to lead him out of the dark Cell Block.

“Why would I have a key?” Atlas asked and began up the steps to the fighting and cries again. She swallowed back her instincts once again, quickly gathering Altair’s things and throwing them at his feet. “What’s the best course of action?”

Altair looked at her and muttered something before strapping his swords and knives back into their hiding places. “Your Greens and Reds are on the wall and Blues and Yellows are behind it? Where are the Whites?”

“Helping where they can. They’re leaders and priests,” Atlas scoffs and Altair looks like he wants to challenge it but decides to keep his thoughts quiet.

“We need people on the ground.” He spoke, meaning he wanted to be on the other side of the gate. Atlas’s heart jumped, she had heard how Bloods could turn their victims inside out… and they enjoyed it.

“Teyla will never agree to that, she’s already lost enough Reds,” Atlas speaks through her teeth as she begins to follow Altair through the chaos. He only looked back at Atlas once and that was to send a glare.

“Once she hears the name Blood Sorcerer, she’ll change her tune. Are you coming or not?” He growled and Atlas sighed with frustration, following him at his heels. Atlas felt fear trying to suck her into the ground, trying to stick to her so she’d stop moving but she pressed forward. This is what Atlas had been training for her entire life, what her life had been given for. So she held onto her anger, it burned away the webs at her feet that tried to claw onto her like the monster in the bog Igraine had told her about when she was a child.

This was it, this was her moment to prove herself, and she would do it side by side with an Elf. Something she had never even thought possible. She wished he was more friendly and had a sense of humor, Jarin at least could smile and laugh at her jokes. It didn’t take much to convince Teyla to let us go over the wall. Atlas was not a fan of Altair’s plan to jump from the wall and into the dirt where Atlas would have to fight Bloods.

✧

The shadow of the man casted over Vale and their work at their desk, they were hunched over a tiny robot man toy with magnifying goggles that their brother said made them look like a bug. Vale put their tiny tools down and lifted their goggles to the top overhead as they turned in their chair to look at the big, suited man who always wore a glare on his face. Vale had seen this man countless times as his employer had visited Vale’s workshop countless times but they had never learned the serious man’s name. Vale stood from their desk and placed a hand on their hip as Mr. Jones walked into their workshop. He was significantly shorter than his employee, his head almost bald and was greasy with sweat and his belly protruded from him like he was overstuffed. Vale placed a hand on their hip and tried to ignore the smell of eggs as Mr. Jones walked in, his sneer at Vale’s greasy hands and face from working with machines all day making their blood boil.

Mr. Jones spoke in his slimy voice and Vale held back a shiver. “Your brother owes a debt to me, Vale.” His nasal voice came and Vale felt the slime against their skin, they needed a shower now.

“How much this time?” Vale sighed, used to this predicament. Mr. Jones looked a bit deflated that Vale wasn’t quaking in their boots like the other locals of the Deep Quarter would. Jones ran the Casino down in the Twilight Quarter and owned most other businesses or at least invested in them, Deep Quarter survived on his credits and he knew it. But not Vale, he didn’t have them on their leash quite yet, but he was working on it and Vale would drown if their brother didn’t stop his gambling habit.

“500 Credits,” Jones slithered, his yellow teeth pronunciating each word. Vale’s face almost dropped, 500? Their brother had racked up 500 credits of debt. That was more than they made a month and knowing Jones he was going to put an impossible collection date on top of it all. Mr. Jones’ smile spread across his face unnaturally as he stared at Vale, feeling like he had finally found his opportunity to take Vale’s shop away from them. “I want it by this Friday, Vale, I have businesses to run. No extension dates, if you can’t pay up then you shouldn’t gamble away the money.”

Vale’s blood boiled beneath their skin, getting lectures had never been one of Vale’s strong suits. Especially when it was from slimy men who needed lectures themselves. Vale ground their teeth together, the sound of teeth grinding in their head irritated them more.

Mr. Jones grinned at them, placed his hand in front of him, and folded them. “I’m glad we understand each other, Vale. See you Friday.”

Once he left with his huge bodyguard, Vale stomped upstairs to their apartment above the workshop. Idris was still sleeping, half under the blankets and in his underwear. “500 credits?!” Vale seethed and Idris jumped up, looking at them with tired eyes. “How long did it take you to rack up that debt? A week? A day? A night? What the Hell, Idris! I barely make enough to feed your addictions, I can’t pay off your debts.”

Idris yawned and rubbed at his eyes. “Give me a sec?” Vale leaned on his doorway and waited. He sighed, pulled on some jeans from the floor, grabbed a button-up shirt, and threw it on but didn’t bother with the buttons. He pulled his hand through his light brown hair before staring at Vale with his puppy eyes, and Vale only stared back with a deeper frown. “It was a couple of bad nights for me, Vale cut me some slack, I’ll fix it.”

Vale growled and stomped forward, their finger in his chest. “He gave us till Friday! God, I told you not to go back to his casinos, you know he’s trying to run us into the ground. He’s a control freak, Idris! He controls every business on this street.”

“Whoa, whoa, what? Who? Bones Jones?” Idris asked, holding his hands up as if Vale was holding a gun to his chest. Vale took a deep breath and let their arms fall to their side.

“Yes, “Bones Jones”,” Vale shook their head and pinched their nose in exasperation. Bones Jones? Who the Hell came up with that? sᴇaʀᴄh thᴇ (F)indNƟvᴇl.ɴet website on Gøøglᴇ to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.

“I haven’t gone to Bones Jones,” Idris told Vale like it was a normal thing to refer to someone as “Bones Jones”.

“Where have you gone?”

“Hal’s.”

“Idris… the only thing that Jones doesn’t own are the alleyways you used to play in!” Vale scolded covering their face now with their hands. It wasn’t enough, Vale had tried for years for their brother, but it wasn’t enough. Vale uncovered their face, a new look of determination etched into it as they pulled their brother close. “I don’t care if Jones sets the whole friggin army on us, we’re getting out of Ravoryn. Pack your things, we’re getting out of this shit hole.”

Idris swallowed in fear and looked at Vale as if they had gone crazy before nodding, knowing better than to argue with Vale when they got these crazy ideas. Idris hoped they’d come to their senses by the time their things were packed or else they’d spend the rest of their lives on the run. For now, Idris had to pack and come up with a way to pay Bones Jones back the 500, or else Idris would need to get buried twice.

✧

Black smoke, like tendrils reaching for them to pull them into the void to become nothing and no one… Okay, so maybe Atlas was being a little dramatic but to be surrounded by the smoke bombs, have watery eyes that want to shut themselves against the hurt, and know that the enemy she was facing were freaking Blood sorcerers was just a little too much for Atlas to not be dramatic. Altair seemed to sense her apprehensive nature and looked at her with a scowl… or that was just his normal face. But her fear was like a snapping turtle, every noise drew her attention and she almost swung at Jarin when he jumped to the ground beside her. Killing her best friend did not seem like the best idea in this instance or any sort of instance.

The smoke settled and Atlas could see the outline of the forest as everything quieted. It was warm, warmer than it had been for months since the fall and winter started. Atlas felt the sweat drip down her back and her throat dry before she was on the ground in the dirt, Altair screamed above her telling Jarin to move but Atlas was focused on the heat.

“Close your eyes!” Altair screamed, pushing Atlas’s face into his chest before a wave of bright light-like fire burned at their skin. When it was gone, Atlas felt the cool wind again and she pushed Altair away, staring at the spot where they had stood, the ground was black and red, burning like it had been a pathway to Hell. “Get up,” Altair growled into Atlas’s ear, pulling her up by her shoulder and she shrugged him off as she came to her feet.

“Where the Hell are they?” Atlas’s breaths came out quick and fast as she tried to catch her air and Jarin placed a strong hand on her shoulder, a reminder to breathe.

“Hidden,” Altair snarled, baring his sharp canines. “Like cowards!” He taunted angrily and Atlas wasn’t sure it was a good idea since Hell had come down upon them. Atlas noticed an odd shimmer of something coming towards them and Atlas slashed forward with her sword, causing the odd shimmer to become a red cloak, a face with dead eyes staring at her with a sickening smile before he raised his hand and before she could react an invisible force threw her into the wall, and she cried out as her head hit the gray stone with a nauseating crack.

Atlas might’ve heard her name in Jarin’s panicked voice, but he was never panicked, he was calm, strong, never panicked. Gods, why did her head hurt so much? Did she get into Kyr’s liquor closet again like she had when she was thirteen? Atlas held her head in her hands, her eyes fuzzy with tears as she reached to the back of her head and felt the wetness in her hair and pulled her head back, the dark red standing out in her vision. Right… Bloods.

Atlas stumbled her way up, her sword somehow still tight in her grip as if it were her lifeline. The scene before her was blurry but she could see Altair and Jarin fighting against red flashes. They were all doomed, especially Atlas.

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