The Crimson Dawn
Marked by Death

Altair sat outside the Healing wing with Jarin as they heard chaos erupting inside as they tried desperately to bring Atlas from death. When silence crawled through the air and it seemed like nobody was breathing like Atlas wasn’t, Altair was sure a Yellow would come out to break the news to everyone. Jarin had his fists clenched and he stared at them as he sat, his knuckles going white. Altair looked up as a male came out of the healing wing and Jarin rose to his feet, whispering the name Quinley with hope and Altair couldn’t believe his ears.

✧

If you had told Atlas that morning that she would end her day, dead on the ground from a hit to the head, she wouldn’t have believed it. Well, she would’ve but asked if her death could’ve been a little cooler.

Atlas rubbed at her throbbing head as she sat up, her vision back to normal for the most part as the Yellows fussed around her. Especially Quinley, who was scolding her for her stunts and scare. Atlas couldn’t quite remember her experience in death, but she wished she could because that would make a cool story to scare everyone with. But there was nothing of the sort, no Grim Wolf to talk about, no beast clawing at her trying to keep her soul with him. There was nothing but the last memory she had of Altair pushing her to the ground.

But Atlas wasn’t so disappointed that she couldn’t make shit up.

“One side of his face was bone while the other was scarred flesh and he growled my name, sending shivers down my ghost spine that only Teyla had been able to invoke before,” Atlas started and she could tell that Quinley wanted to hit the back of her head, and would if it wasn’t injured. But he settled for an eye roll and a quiet demand to shut up.

Atlas grinned, triumphantly eating her Strawberry Jello as she was fussed over. She could feel the tension in the room but she ignored it, tacking it up to the fact she had died and come back thanks to the amazing healing powers of the Yellows. A few minutes later, Teyla entered the room with a bleak expression on her face, and she hesitated, making Atlas’s heart stop for a moment once again. Teyla never hesitated, not with any decision, not even when Altair had suggested his crazy plan. What could cause Teyla to hesitate now? Had the Bloods won? Had Altair and Jarin not made it?

“Igraine is dead, Atlas, she… she sacrificed her life,” Teyla spoke carefully, wincing as Atlas’s second cup of Jello fell from her hands and her spoon bounced off her knee and clattered onto the ground. Atlas opened her mouth, but nothing came out, not a word, not a scream, not even a small whine of grief. Atlas felt numb, she couldn’t feel anything, she didn’t want to feel anything, she was glad for this simple numbness. But it was only a moment before it all came barreling into her like a relentless wave, fighting to claim another victim for the sea.

Teyla looks at Atlas almost in horror as her scream pierces the air, her wails drawing the attention of every Yellow in the room. Atlas gripped the sheets beneath her and the memory of gripping the earth as she lay dying rose to the surface. She began shaking as tears ran down her cheeks, and she felt strong hands hold her down as something pricked her skin. She fought against it, the wolf staring her down with empty sockets.

“Atlas! Atlas!” Someone called to her, and she felt another prick in her arm. All she felt was the beast’s breathing, she was back on the ground, in the dark, feeling nothing but the growl that shook the ground. Atlas fought harder against her chains, feeling the burning gaze of those huge empty sockets stare down at her.

“She is not ready for death,” a disembodied voice spoke to the wolf.

“Nobody ever is,” it growled back, and Atlas felt her body relax as another prick on her arm sent a wave of sleep over her.

✧

“Three sedatives to put her down! Three! You really couldn’t wait to tell her about Igraine’s death? The woman was like a mother to Atlas,” Quinley scolded Teyla and she glared back at him.

“She was going to wonder where Igraine was eventually, she always did have a soft spot for the girl,” Teyla argued back defensively. Altair walked in as they continued to argue back and forth, he stared at the blonde girl lying in that bed, some of her tears still making their way over her cheeks.

She had been dead. Probably minutes before Altair had even noticed and yet she was breathing once again. Altair doubted that the power of these Yellows’ was so potent that it could bring the dead back to life after so long but it was either that or the Grim Wolf had been gracious and Altair had never heard of that happening in the history of the Shattered Age. But before? Maybe there was some record of it happening before their Age but it was all lost, not even the long-lived Elves could remember what had happened.

The Gods had never interfered with the life of this world for as long as the Shattered Age had been. No one could remember the Gods’ names if they had any to begin with. The Grim Wolf was the God of Death, War, Strength, and Bloodlust, he wasn’t cruel and he held no joy in it but it was his duty and Altair understood that. At least, Altair had thought that, if he understood one thing about the Gods it had been duty but now he was so sure as the girl laid before him breathing once again. Alive. Or was she? Was she even alive? Altair didn’t know, he wasn’t sure anyone did.

Teyla and Quinley hadn’t finished arguing over Atlas’s bed and Altair had to clear his throat to grab their attention. “If you are going to continue to argue then perhaps you should do it elsewhere, but if not then we have much to discuss.” They both glowered at him, not appreciative of his interruption nor his order but they were silent regardless. Altair heard someone clear their throat behind him and he turned to see three men, Blue, Green, and Yellow standing behind him.

“I hope you weren’t thinking of discussing these important matters without us,” sneered the blue but the yellow and green gave uneasy smiles to him.

“Pardon, Runo, he never quite grasped what manners are,” the green stated, earning his own sneer from the blue. “I’m Kyr, if you remember, Altair, and this is Runo and Aegar. We are the leaders of Kestva if you can recall.”

“Right… And where is the white?”

They all seemed to flinch at that, and Runo growled out. “Dead.”

Oh. The woman in white who had sacrificed herself, Igraine, had been her name. The woman Atlas had been so torn up about her that she now lay sedated in her bed. Teyla joined her fellow leaders and whispered something harshly at Runo before turning her bloodshot eyes to Altair.

“The facts are simple. Atlas shouldn’t be breathing,” Altair spoke and Aegar recoiled.

“Are you doubting our skills in healing, Elf?” Aegar scowled, the soft man now offended and angry.

“Yes,” Altair answered smoothly. “She didn’t stop breathing in my arms, I believe she was dead long before the Chimeras even made their appearance. Even then she was dead for minutes, she shouldn’t be here.”

“Can you not let us be glad that we still have Atlas? We have suffered enough losses, too many Reds died, and one of our leaders sacrificed her life to save you and that girl! Can we not have the happiness of Atlas’s life?” Kyr seemed to beg and it took Altair by surprise at how attached they were to their people.

“They died doing their duty.”

“And we must honor that sacrifice by mourning them,” Kyr explained, and Altair would not pretend to understand. He knew the concept of mourning; Elves mourned their dead but… these people almost seemed regretful about it all.

“Atlas’s life could be an omen of something far worse, can you not see that?”

“You protected her body,” Teyla pointed out and Altair looked at her in bewilderment. Was she suggesting that he was attached to the girl?

“I didn’t know she was dead,” Altair explained, and the woman seemed to flinch but he couldn’t be certain as she turned away.

“Enough of this,” Runo growled, motioning a quick x with his hands. “This will get us nowhere. We simply know nothing about this sort of thing happening, we can only speculate and argue. If you are so concerned, Elf, then perhaps you should take her with you.”

“That is an absurd suggestion,” Altair let out a small laugh. “Why would I take her with me?”

“I was on the wall, she saw the Bloods before you did,” Teyla scowled at him, almost defending Atlas. Altair thought about it for a moment more and Teyla was right, while Atlas certainly wasn’t experienced in real battle, it wasn’t like she held no talent for it.

“If she isn’t ready to go by dawn tomorrow, I’ll leave without her,” Altair grunted before pushing past them and into the dusk.

✧

Atlas was swimming in dark space, it was gooey and hard to breathe in. There was nothing for Atlas to grapple onto, nothing to see, nothing to touch, it was just nothing for miles to see and she struggled to breathe as she moved forward, or backward, or maybe she wasn’t even moving.

Atlas looked down as something latched onto her leg, she had a quick second to realize it was a rusty chain before it yanked her down. As she saw land coming into view, Atlas thought she was going to go splat but instead, she landed on it like it was a soft pillow instead of a concrete pillar she now knelt on. She recognized this place, at least she thought so, it was on the edge of her mind, but she couldn’t quite get it until she remembered those empty sockets of the wolf.

“Hello, young one,” came a deep and haunting voice, it was in her head instead of in her ears. Atlas looked up and saw the voided sockets of the Grim Wolf once again, his jaws wide and sharp as if he were smiling at her. “Congratulations, you are one of the first in centuries to escape my grasp. You, Atlas, should give yourself a pat on the back.”

The Grim Wolf didn’t wait for Atlas to voice her confusion, fear, or whatever she was feeling. He simply continued. “Our… encounter before must’ve left many questions if you remember it that is.” A big glob of drool fell from his toothy mouth. “You must feel special. It is not often at all that I let souls escape my jaws. Erden must really like you.”

“Who?” Atlas inquired, the only question she was able to voice. The Grim Wolf’s jaw snapped closed, making Atlas jump back in fear and she almost fell off the concrete pillar she stood on. She looked down, at that same black space below her and she shivered, she was not ready to be in that ever again.

“Right… you have forgotten our names. Our faces. I speak of the one you called Lord of Time, the God of Tranquility, Wisdom, Parenthood, and given away by his moniker, time,” The Grim Wolf patiently explained, and Atlas grabbed onto the fact that she now knew a God by name, a feat no one else in the Shattered Age could claim. “Erden made a trade with me in exchange for your return into the living. While you have spent your life in servitude at the Temple of Kestva to the “Lord of Time”, you now also serve me in a more physical fashion. You will be my champion in the Mortal Realm.

“It took three sedatives to get you down, you’ll find that it will soon take more than that once your body adjusts to the… alterations made when you became my champion,” The Grim Wolf spoke calmly with what sounded like a hint of somberness into Atlas’s head. “You’ll find more abilities as you continue forward on your Quest.”

“Whoa, wait, okay slow down. Champion, abilities, Quest, can you stop and explain those a little more?” Atlas asked, her mind swimming with all this new information. She could barely grasp that she was speaking with one of her Gods, but to know that she was now his “Champion” was even harder to hold onto.

The Grim Wolf sighed, his jaws opening wide and Atlas’s eyes widened at the rows of sharp teeth. “My champion, my mortal heroic or villainous servant if you must get into the less than flattering terms. You have come under my service, the first one to do so in the Shattered Age of this realm. And because of my patronage, I have granted you the use of abilities not seen since before this Age, I am generous to you, yes? But you are still mortal, just a little harder to kill, something to keep in mind so your arrogance does not become your downfall.”

“And this Quest?”

“The destruction of the Blood Sorcerers and their false God the Blood Snake,” The Grim Wolf snarled, “It is my first and perhaps only ask of you, my champion. To find this Blood Snake and bring its head to me.”

“I have no choice in becoming your champion?” Atlas asked him and his jaws snapped shut as if imagining her soul in them once again and his void sockets stared into her.

“Not unless you want to feel my teeth piercing your very soul,” he snarled, and his head lowered to scrutinize Atlas with his glaring socket. “Erden sacrificed a lot for you, he believes you to be the very one to bring the undoing upon the Blood Snake and her undead zealots. Do not disappoint me, World-Bearer.”

So close to the Wolf, Atlas could see the bone more clearly around his sockets, the ripped flesh, and the dried blood matting his fur. Someone or something had taken his eyes, the scarring around them was evidence enough. “Am I supposed to call you my Lord now?” His dark laughter sounded through her head and Atlas couldn’t help but smile. She had made a God laugh.

“Grim will do.”

“You won’t give me your name like you did for the Lord of Time?”

Grim opened his jaws in his odd smile once again. “Perhaps one day, World-Bearer.”

The world was dark before Atlas opened her sockets, back in the softness of the medical bed rather than her cot in the Red Barracks. Her head pounded, and her eyes tore at themselves as light seeped into her pupils before they adjusted. Quinley sat at her side and helped her groggy head sit up, it was odd that the light of the candle was the only thing that kept them from complete darkness because for a moment it had felt like the sun. Quinley put a straw in her mouth before she could talk and she tried to protest before she sipped on the cool liquid, taking the cup into her hand as she let Quinley explain what had happened. sᴇaʀᴄh thᴇ ꜰindNʘvel.ɴet website on Gøøglᴇ to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.

“I’m really being sent off with Altair?” Atlas asked with a scrunch of her nose, handing the cup back to Quinley once she was finished with it.

Quinley chuckled. “Teyla had a few words to say about it with Runo after Altair had left. She wasn’t happy about Runo sending you off after your… experience and without discussing it with her privately. But they all agreed it was the best course of action to send someone with Altair and since they had already convinced him to take you…” Quinley shrugged, the rest of his sentence easy to put together.

Atlas didn’t argue, Quinley wasn’t the one to argue with, and even though she couldn’t quite remember why, she felt like she was going to go with Altair if he didn’t want her or not. Despite Quinley’s protests that she needed rest, Atlas argued that she had had enough rest between death and sedation. She also needed to be ready so Altair wouldn’t leave her butt behind if he hadn’t already.

Jarin was asleep in his cot when she entered their room. Atlas smiled slightly at his sleeping face, they had been best friends since they were children and now, she was leaving him for the first time. She was leaving Kestva, her only home. A big chunk of her home was missing without Igraine, but it was still home in a way. Atlas kissed the top of his head lightly before leaving, grabbing a small pack with supplies to last her a few days. She found her new armor and weapons quickly, putting them on in their respective placements and orders. Finally, she swung her red cloak around her shoulders and tied it before heading outside the wall.

She found Altair there, sleeping in the dirt and somehow, he looked sweet asleep despite the usual grumpy face he had while he was awake. Atlas sighed as she sat herself next to Altair’s sleeping form which quickly became his awake form when he jolted, and she found a knife to her stomach. But she smiled down at him, leisurely leaning back on her hands.

“We have cots, I’m sure they’re better than sleeping amongst the blood, bugs, and twigs,” Atlas’s smile widened as he sighed exasperated at her words, and he sheathed his blade.

He rolled back over and mumbled. “Get some rest. When I say dawn, I mean dawn, Atlas.” Atlas laid down beside him in the cold air, wrapping her cloak around her tightly in an attempt to stay warm. She stared out into the sky; the empty blackness would remind her of something if it weren’t for the twinkling lights in it. What was it that it reminded her of? It was at the edge of her mind and she felt frightened by whatever it was, sticky and stuck as she tried to remember what sort of void she was trying to think of.

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