Missing

The last of May unfolded in a haste, as though someone pushed the button for the fast forward, as though the calendar changed its day for only an hour.

Hail and his members were renting a cabin in the Zorphean’s Villa. Unlike the normal housing system, theirs were massive and impregnable, its walls that were made with strong bamboo were painted with mint-green, decorated by what seemed to be a blank canvas, its sides curled with a silky, furry fabric. It only had three rooms, a sink, a comfort room, and two foam-made benches, standing alongside, facing an overlarge window, overlooking the dull, cloud-filled horizon.

Michelle was curled in one of the benches, her legs crossing elegantly, a soft heart-shaped pillow on her lap. She was staring at the occasional flashing of deep streaks of curvy light in the already flushed sky, sipping a cup of coffee. Its aroma alone brought such a warm sensation she could only imagine.

Slumped beside her was Briane whose frowns were making his face longer than usual. His hands were on his crotch, sneakily rubbing it. Aside from Blame’s insistent absence, he’s yet to have sex for a week. Hail’s been busying them with their mission, adding to it now was their search for Blame. Apparently, the protectors lost her. This he expected less because she’s just showing all the signs of giving up, but Blame would always be Blame. Maybe she pretended to surrender only to thwart all of them in the end, or maybe she’s punishing them for finding her this late.

No one really knew. Blame’s a hard-to-guess card, after all.

The protectors have already turned Zorphe upside-down; however, not even the blonde strand of his sweetie had been seen. In their desperate attempt to catch her, they’ve distributed thousands of pamphlets showing her features, which, unfortunately, containing different faces. Even if one would look closely, it had no resemblance whatsoever to Blame.

The three of them were given one, and when they compared it to one another, they concluded that the council’s either losing their touch or Blame was behind these weird faces. Hail’s featured a round-face woman with big blotches and hook nose, Briane’s was painted with a distorted face with wide-set eyes, and Michelle’s, throwing it with a disgusted look, contained a featureless face, greenish sluggish something flowing from the thin line at its lower region.

Aside from that, the Supreme Council took it upon themselves to warn Wielders of the greater danger posed by the man who might’ve helped Blame escape. He was George Williams. Although Wielders Briane met gossiped of how nice that man was, Briane was still torn, because the council reported how George brutally murdered three of their men.

If what they’re saying was true, there’s still no way for them to locate Blame’s whereabouts, and he’s getting desperate.

“Where do you think sweetie is?” said Briane, heaving a deep sigh.

Rolling her eyes, Michelle sipped her coffee. “Do you think we’ll still be here if I know where she is? For once, Speedy, use your head.”

“I’m just asking. You don’t have to be sarcastic about it.”

“What do you want me to do then?” Michelle glared at him. “Answer a question that is obviously has no answer? You know what? Just shut up!”

Briane snorted. He had to admit, even if Michelle’s going on with her angry spree, she still looked pretty with her venomous curly hair, dazzling fierce eyes, and her diamond face which made her look bitchier as she’d always been. He couldn’t help thinking how she’d look without any dress, how she’d look as he banged her. Thinking of it alone aroused him, so he rubbed his crotch and found himself moaning, imagining the sensation of being inside her.

It was until a cup landed on his chest did his best moment ended.

“WHAT THE?” Briane stood abruptly, breathing some air on his bare chest. From the short hairs sprouting from it, there was a reddish bump.

“Serves you right!” said Michelle, smirking.

“WHAT THE HECK IS YOUR PROBLEM?”

“What’s my problem?” She stood gracefully, squaring her shoulders, towering over him who barely reached her nose. Moving closer to him, until her lips touched the tip of his right ear, she whispered groggily, owing for his widened eyes,

“You are my problem! The next time you thought maliciously of me, I will cut that—” She faced him, her eyes naughtily moving down to the snake bulging on his shorts. “—future of yours. Do you understand?”

With his anger ebbing away, he grinned. “Death will be worth it then.”

Without preamble, he kissed her, his lips moving lustfully, his hands traveling way past her waist.

The black tint of Michelle’s irises splashed down to her cornea, flowing like melted metal. She clenched her fists firmly, bleeding as her sharp nails slit its bare skin.

There came a whistling sound and a midnight-black shadow pinned Briane on the wall opposite her, the paintings falling down the ground with a crushing sound. Before it could break, however, a light would flash, fixing each of its cracks.

Laughing at the way she reacted, he licked his lips, wanting to know how far she’d go with her madness.

“You taste exactly as I expected.”

Her eyes flickered dully, her shadow—turning darker and darker—rolled, siphoning energy from the surrounding, whipping his face with a sharp force that scratch his bony cheeks. Within seconds, the wind had assumed the shape of a spear, pointing directly at his neck.

Instead of shaking or shouting for help, he just laughed. He found her amusing. Each girl he kissed ended up naked in front of her, but she hadn’t even blinked. Although he expected her reaction, it was still worth it.

Those lips, surely, would end thousands of men, at least in his opinion.

His laughter stopped when the spear slit the skin on his neck. Blood dripped from it, trickling down to his chest. There was a pricking pain as though thousands of knives were piercing his whole body.

Swallowing hard, he faked yet another laugh. This time, it sounded more desperate than enthusiastic.

“Seriously! You’re the one who initiated it. You know how tempting you are, babe!”

Briane fell on the ground when yet another shadow, sable-black this time, walked past. The paintings, meanwhile, were glued back to the walls, and Michelle’s eyes were forced back to their normal shade.

There was silence for a moment until the pouring of the rain broke it.

Michelle looked around for the owner of the shadow and found Hail leaning on the door frame, wearing a gray shirt, his hands on his pocket, his eyes closed. There was something with his spiky, tapered sides, brunette hair that gave him the look of clean and sharp and intimidating.

“How disappointing,” he said loudly, making sure his voice was clear over the pounding on the roof. “I expected more from both of you.”

Gasping, Briane stood, casually brushing his jet-black hair which has a longer length on top, revealing the skin next to his ears, indifferent to the pain on his cheeks and neck.

Still not opening his eyes, Hail went on, “Have you convinced the president, Ms. Dela Vega, with the headmaster’s request?”

Wrinkling her nose, she slumped back to the bench, putting the pillow back on her lap. “She continues to be indifferent—”

“Mr. George, have you contacted the locksmith?”

“Of course, I did, but he doesn’t want anything to do with the school—”

“You failed to accomplish any of your task, and you still have the guts to sit there.”

“It’s not as if you’re making any progress—”

“I talked to the council’s representative just now, and they are more than willing to aid the headmaster, Ms. Dela Vega. I hope you think through your words before you speak again.” He interlocked his fingers, looking at them with his eyes assuming the dullness of a colorless world.

“Do you know the consequence if we don’t succeed in this mission?”

“Yeah, yeah!”

“What did I tell you, Mr. George. Set aside your emotions.”

“Can you stop bossing me around? I’m old enough—”

“Then think. If you cannot convince the locksmith, how will we have our weapons—”

“What do you need weapons for, Hail? Do you really think the headmaster’s right to believe that Masakonians are on the move?”

“Did that narrow-minded President turned you against the headmaster, Ms. Dela Vega?”

One of her brows raised. “Not really, but I guess she has a point. The council would’ve raised the Wielders’ attention if those bastards are acting again.”

“Don’t you understand that those Wielders you’re calling bastards almost dethroned the council a hundred years ago? That’s the same reason why they’re keeping things quiet. Besides, aren’t you worried? Masakonian don’t act without someone so powerful at their back. If it’s true, which I know it is, then someone whose power can compete to the headmaster’s behind them all.”

“Okay, I get it.” Michelle crossed her arms, looking instead at the window.

“I hope you do ‘coz the headmaster wants us back—”

“WHAT?” Briane clenched his fist, jumping on his feet. “Are you going to leave sweetie here? Again? And we’re not even closer to finishing our mission. You said it yourself we need to succeed.”

“The headmaster himself will be the one to convince them. Besides, it’s an order, Mr. George—”

“Order, my ass! I will no longer let you boss me around! Who do you think you are?”

Hail only narrowed his eyes, put his hand on his back, and disappeared with his shadow.

“You know,” said Michelle, watching Briane walked back and forth, pulling his hair. “Keep acting like that and you’ll lose your head.”

“Are you not worried? We’ll be leaving Blame again—”

“It’s a matter of understanding, Speedy. Since I know you’ve got the brain the size of a pea, I’ll give you a hint. Blame doesn’t want to go home anymore. She’s now at home in this pestilential place, weakened by this Empire’s restriction, so unless you want to be sane, keep your act right.”

He shook his head. “Is that how heartless both of you are? I can’t believe you’ve been best friends—”

“The man says we need to go.” She hurriedly walked out of sight but still heard him say, “You’re a coward, selfish bitch!”

Michelle breathed heavily, his heels ringing oddly at each step she took. Putting her hands on her pocket, she extracted a parchment from which Blame’s and her face have been painted. Something clenched her heart as she traced the rough texture of the parchment, thinking that by memorizing the lines of her face, she’d be closer to her once again.

Not a year after Michelle had been admitted to the school, Blame enrolled. She’s just thirteen then while Blame’s twelve, her face was still stained with innocence, the bitchy vibes still unclear. Four years had passed, but it’s still fresh in her head, as though it only happened yesterday.

She met her sulking in the benches, crying. It’s such a peculiar thing to imagine herself as her, because a year ago, she was also crying on the very same bench, feeling rather nervous about facing the many Wielders whom she’d never seen before. So, she sat next to her, smiling a little, thinking of a greeting that would neither seem intimidating nor intimate.

“It’s a lovely day, isn’t it?” She almost hit herself for the phrase that came out of her lips. She meant it to be a greeting, but the sun and the cloudless sky influenced her thoughts.

“It’s—it’s not,” said a squeaky voice.

Her brows arched. “Hmm. Quite a rude thing to say.”

“Just—just leave me alone.”

Although her blood boiled at the unwelcoming gesture, she kept her head cool. She leaned at the bench, closed her eyes, and allowed the breeze to ruffle her hair.

“I used to be like you, you know?” she started. “New in this school, I mean. Everyone just feels so intimidating and big that you feel so small. It’s what you feel, right?”

Without tilting her head, she stared at the blonde strands of Blame’s hair, occasionally intercepted by dark strands.

“What I’m trying to say is I know what you feel. If you let the world scare you, you’ll never see its beauty.” She stood and offered her hand. “Come, I’ll show you what I mean.”

Blame raised her head and looked at her, thinking. It took her no less than a minute to accept her hand, forced to conclude that she meant no harm.

After that day, they were to be seen together. For some unknown reason, Michelle had been attached to her. Maybe because she’s so fragile or ignorant, but either way, she felt the need to help her, as she emitted a fighter’s aura, and it’d be a waste if she’d be sulking in the corner, neglecting her abilities.

Pondering over that memory, stupid and foolish recollection as she put it, she finished packing her things. As she sat on her bed, sighing, staring at her beautiful features reflected in the cabinet’s full-length mirror, she thought of Blame’s whereabouts. Of course, for someone like her, the council would have a hard time.

She’s not ranked second in their school for nothing, after all.

A knock distracted her, followed by muffled footsteps moving away. She gave the room one last glance before summoning her shadow to bring her luggage. One thing’s for sure, she’d never missed it. It’d been so uncomfortable being in this small room and especially not on a bed that has a cheap foam.

Five minutes later, she was standing at the gate with a frowning Briane, his shadow beside him bringing his things, and a hooded Hail whose shadow was nowhere to be seen. The rain was gone, but the heaven was still dark and cloudy. Her eyes lingered on the filthy flood and shivers ran down her spine. Surely, the carriage would not allow them to be stained by it.

“Question: Where is the carriage, Hail?” said Michelle, craning her neck in the hope to see an approaching carriage.

“It’ll be here any minute now.”

“I still think this is a bad idea. Blame’s on the run. We can, at least, help her.”

“I get your point, Mr. George, and I’m hoping you get ours. Blame’s a skilled Wielder. We would never find her if she doesn’t want to be found—”

“Why shouldn’t she want to be found?”

“If you learn to listen for a moment, I’ll tell you.”

Briane’s jaw clenched, his teeth gritting.

“Thank you,” said Hail, giving him a sweeping look. “As you may have surmised by now, Blame’s nowhere to be seen. She managed to evade the council and the protectors alike, so we are more unlikely to find her. On the positive note, there are about a hundred percent probability that she’ll come with us.”

“And why is that?” snapped Michelle who, for a moment, stopped craning to listen to their conversation.

“She has nowhere to go. The other Empires are subjected to scrutiny, and as there is a registration in its entrances, it’ll be hard to enter without being identified. It all boils down to this, Blame’s still here, hiding, or she’s already at school.”

“In case you missed it, their system can be hijacked. Look at Blame. That Granny said she’s been brought to the Guild because she couldn’t pay and she’s accused to be unregistered, but she still managed to register herself under a different name.”

Hail gave her a bored look. “The Guild’s system and the other Empire’s is different, Ms. Dela Vega. But, I’ll give you a point for that. However, fingerprints are checked in the registration process. It never lies.”

“Okay, given all that. Why did you think sweetie might already be at school?”

“Because—” Hail took a deep breath, his lips pursing. “—it’s the only place the council can’t tap. Now, no more questions. The carriage’s coming.”

As he said, an unusually large carriage was approaching, its surface glimmering despite the sunless sky.

“You’re late,” said Hail, unsmiling.

“I’m sorry, sire. I’ve been hold up by the checkpoints.”

“The what?”

“Checkpoint, Sire, checkpoint. The council wants to find Z so badly that whoever catch her will be given the chance to be a part of the council.”

Michelle grinned, nodding. Briane, however, frowned more deeply.

“Let’s go. We don’t have much time.”

He entered the carriage first as the driver put their luggage at the back. Three benches were standing astride the corner, which made the carriage’s inside looked more like a sitting room. Sitting on one of the benches was, basing on her thinness, a lady wrapped in a murky fabric, concealing her body and her features. He could see the gray, long sleeves of her cloak, though.

‘Hmm. A Zorphean,’ he thought submissively.

Just as he was seated on the bench opposite the lady, Briane and Michelle came in, arguing about something. They went silent after Hail glared at them. Apparently, Briane had splashed her flawless skin, as she referred to it, with the flood outside.

“Are you ready, sires and miss?” called the driver.

“Go ahead. We need to be in the tube before twelve.”

“I will bring you there in a flash, sire.”

And on they went, the Shorne neighing loudly, the carriage bumping slightly with the rocks.