Humans used to live above ground. That's all I know. It's all anyone knows. Now, they live in tunnels beneath Z3.

  Did they fear us? Our abilities? Nobles... For years I've watched us go nowhere. Maybe it's our long lifespans. Humans are lucky. Shorter lives. Less time to grow bored and get into trouble.

  Z3... Nothing grows there. A few hundred thousand Nobles and 6 leaders. The Shepherds. More powerful than the Sentients. Only in terms of influence. Ability-wise... Sentients have their notoriety. Soldiers, Generals, Viscounts, Monarchs, and Kings or Queens. What sets them apart are Axeheads.

  There are two that I know of. Twins. Like a single mind inhabiting separate bodies. Their fighting style is sporadic and unpredictable. Going against them is a death sentence.

  But this infant will never know a world like that. I'll tuck it away some place the Sentients can't reach. Yet, I tried that with Melody and she craved the fight. Don't know where she gets that from. She was just a little girl, then the Sentients tore her family apart. I promised that senile old man to protect her.

  Melody has become a fiery woman. If she knew the trouble I went through to avenge her parents… Probably wouldn't make a difference.

  Will this infant turn out strong? It’ll need strength to survive this world.

  My computer chimes. I climb out of bed and sit in my chair. A message... It's from Genome. He sent me a video?

  Melody! Who's that with her? They're soldiers from the Wyre. What are they... Two cloaked figures. Matching masks. The twins! What's she doing? They're fighting! Bodies torn. Limbs scattered. She couldn't land a hit. They…let her live. Barely bruised. Few scratches. I’ve never seen them show mercy.

  I message Genome. "Where did you get this?"

  He replies. "It's all over the forums.”

  Melody leaked it? This was a political stunt. She could've been killed! But they spared her–just her. Why?

  I walk onto my patio. The air is nice. People shuffle through the streets. If they ever find me... This town and anyone close to me would end up dead. That's the way they do things.

  Melody's still young. She doesn't understand much about this world. She’s seen so little. Maybe that's a good thing. I need to watch her better.

  As for the infant... I don't know how many more sleeping spells I can use until they lose their effect. Perhaps I should get rid of it. But I didn't give up on Melody... Doesn't it deserve a chance?

  Melody wags an empty bottle by her side. Eyes fixed on the tops of buildings. Strained expression. How long has she been there?

  She slouches in a chair. Legs crossed. Foot bouncing. She rolls her head. ”You hide yourself away in places where no one could ever hope to find you. You should fight more!"

  My eyes are drawn to the town. "I can't..." She doesn't know what I'm capable of. My hands... They're all I have to fight with and I'm afraid of what I can do.

  She hums and drops the bottle. It rolls by her foot. "Z?" She watches a couple walk home. "Do you ever wish you'd wake up dead?"

  I jolt. "Dead?"

  She shrugs. "Forget it." Her nails dig into her arms. The dried blood is gone. Must’ve showered. Still, I smell that curse on her. It must be eating away at her insides.

  Truth is… Death is all I think about. Not my own, but those around me. How do I explain that to someone so young? So hopeful? Maybe she sees something I don’t.

  I nod to her. "What do you have planned?"

  Melody grins and clicks her tongue. “A plan?” She groans as she lifts herself up, then dances around the patio and leans backwards over the railing. She winces. “I never planned to live this long. If not for you…” Her head tilts. Eyes glazed. “I don’t know where to go from here.”

  I step towards her. “I saw the video.”

  She snickers. “They need to know what we’re up against.”

  I grab her wrist. “You were reckless.”

  Melody pulls away and falls into the chair. She hiccups. “The world should know what they really are.” Her gaze locks on the town. “I have to help them see.”

  I sigh. “You’re risking a lot for people who don’t want to open their eyes.”

  She points at me and growls. “You’re one to talk! Abandoning your post when you were on the cusp of victory. They still tell stories about you.“ She scrunches her face and coughs. "Zachariah… The legendary hero.” She rubs her stomach. Blood drips from her nose. “If only they knew what a coward you are!”

  My chest tightens. I reach for her. “Let me heal you.”

  Melody shoves me off. “I don’t want your help!”

  I sigh. She’s right. I am a coward. “But you don’t know–“

  Melody rolls her eyes. “I’ve been promoted. Not that you’d care! I have a responsibility to the people.”

  That’s why she leaked it. Out of obligation. I shake my head. “So what? You’re going to fuel this war with information?”

  She waves her hand. “They don’t care if you’re fighting or caught in the crossfire. All people need to know is that they’ll stop at nothing to wipe us out.”

  I snarl at her. “You child! The killing won't stop! It never stops!”

  She glares. “Just how many people have you saved by keeping quiet?”

  More than she can imagine…

  Melody slams her fist on her knee. “The people are starving, Zachariah! Your people.” She rises. “80 years you fought, then you go… Hiding, secluded, and what's to show for it?” She gestures to the town. “More than ever, we need someone to lead us. We need you.”

  Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  That side of me is gone… “Barthelemy is their leader.” He’s got the stomach for it. I'm too old for this.

  Melody wipes her nose and hugs her waist. “I found something in my last export (breach).“ She wheezes. “They’re…experimenting…” Her eyes close.

  That's not news to me. If she’s just learning of it, then they’re growing more merciless.

  I pick her up and carry her to the guest room. Pink feathers litter the floor. Blood stains all over the bed. What a mess! I set her down. She might die if I don’t heal her, but she doesn’t want my help. I turn to leave.

  She grabs my arm. “Dad?”

  Dad? Is she feeling sentimental? Maybe the curse is affecting her memory.

  Melody whimpers. “Please, heal me.”

  I smile. “Of course, my daughter.” I pull her clothes off and she crawls into my lap. I squeeze her. “Just breathe.”

  Sores cover her back. Blood on my fingertips. The smell... Tangy and sweet. Drool drips down my chin. Pulse thudding. I lift my fingers to my lips. Tongue sticking out.

  She whispers. “I love you.”

  I lower my hand and gulp. “I… I love you.” My stomach grumbles.

  Threads of light flow from between us, shredding themselves, and wrapping around her. They slip into her skin. Wounds begin to close. Vines sprout from my arms. Pink flowers budding on the ends. I cover her mouth and pull the curse from her body. It crackles and hisses. A black frog.

  The threads swallow the curse, then move to her discarded feathers and blood. A metallic flavor rushes to my tongue. I squeeze her and bite my lip.

  Melody opens her eyes. Excitement spreads across her face. She whispers through the threads. “Beautiful.” Then she falls asleep.

  The threads turn black as I retract them into my chest. The flowers wilt and wither. Vines decay into dust.

  I rest her head on a pillow and stand by her side. She looks like a woman, but that little girl is somewhere in there, too. Grandchild of a notorious thief... Melvin Ulsam.

  Has it really been that long? Feels like yesterday Melvin, leader of a rebellious group called S1:c, was blubbering at my feet.

  "Please, Zachariah!" He bowed. "They're not like any Noble I've seen!"

  I rolled my eyes and pressed my boot to his head, smooshing his skull against the granite. My guards watched with sullen expression. Melvin's contemplated defending him.

  I growled. "You're asking me to risk the lives of my friends." Then I cackled. "So you can get revenge?" My foot pressed down. "Or are you leading me into a trap?"

  Melvin whined. "Please... They... They're... They're coming for you next!"

  I laughed at the idea. My arrogant voice bellowing throughout the silent warehouse. "You ask too much of me, Ulsam. How far do you think these hands extend? I have enough to worry about here in Val Basec. Besides, I imagine a man as gifted as you are needn't lift a finger against them."

  He prayed. "Please, Zachariah. Save me! They're stronger than even I."

  I lifted my boot and stomped on his head. "I dropped everything because you said this was urgent! You can't fight off some pathetic Nobles and want me to deal with them? Haven't I got enough on my plate? Cleaning up your mess is your problem."

  Melvin reached into his pocket. "I... I'll give you something in return."

  My guards readied themselves. I waved them back and huffed. "You're set on this, aren't you? Fine. How do you plan on repaying me for eliminating these Aces or whatever?"

  He revealed a locket. I glanced to my guards, then to Melvin's. I snatched the locket from his trembling hand and opened it. There's a picture of a girl inside. Boring eyes. Grim expression. Caramel skin.

  Melvin moaned. "My daughter."

  I wasn't impressed with her. She looked scrawny. Weak. Hardly what I'd call an asset. Perhaps there's more to her than meets the eye. I snap the locket shut and glare down at him. "Her ability?"

  Melvin grunted. "Lasers..."

  Lasers? I scoffed. "From her eyes?"

  He shifted. "Yes!"

  I thought the exchange seemed fair. Nobility wasn't rare, but certain abilities are. To shoot lasers from the eyes... To turn invisible... To resurrect the dead... My army needed the rarest of Nobles to fight the Sentients and I knew how I'd use her.

  I removed my boot. Melvin stayed motionless on the ground. I tilted his chin up and stared into his golden eyes. "Swear your soul to me and I will keep her safe."

  His eyes swirled. "My soul?"

  I grinned. "Your body and all."

  Back then... if I'd known what the Axeheads were... What'd become of his daughter... I'm not sure I'd have done things differently. I'd like to think I would've been more kind or cunning. I fought a war for 80 years. Sometimes I think Melody was the only good thing to come out of that deal.

  It's been 200 years since I woke up in a field. No recollection of my past. No name to cling to. I never called myself Zachariah. The people named me that because of what I could do. Heal the sick. Raise the dead. Now, they remember me. Like Melody said... A legend... A tale...

  I go into the main room. Shelves lined with books. Some about the past. Others about abilities. My fingers scrape the binding of a navy blue journal. Once belonging to a man named Pluto. There's a poem in here that I keep returning to...

  My gaze shifts across the dead, barren valley ahead.

  A place I knew so well.

  Now, a crater filled with selfish memories dripping blood and regrets raining down like sapid ash.

  Utter misfortune befell those whose remains squirm beneath my calloused feet.

  I am reminded what it is that makes me apathetic.

  The luculent explanation for why I watch the life drain from the eyes of my lovers, friends, and enemies without feeling anything.

  My brother...

  I can feel the morning dew wet beneath him as he rolls around carelessly in an open field.

  His childish laughter echoing ephemeral memories throughout my empty head and glimpses of honey-colored grandeur for as far as his eyes can see.

  Yet, somewhere unknown to me.

  I long to be beside him, my brother.

  Hear his placid silence one more time.

  Smell the blend of rose oil on his collar.

  He is the spring pouring in.

  Beautiful and blossoming buds of sterling white jasmine, terraforming a world lost to a brutal winter's wrath.

  My toes curl as I feel him climax with rhapsody.

  His body intangible yet I feel his infantile heart beating inside my chest.

  All I want is his happiness, nothing less.

  My brother,

  A terracotta statue portraying temperamental innocence.

  My brother,

  A warm thought in cold decedents.

  My brother,

  An unwound spool of thread.

  My brother.

  My brother.

  My brother.

  Again and again.

  Oh, darling brother.

  I drive myself mad at the thought of your virgin breath.

  Your succulent lips drawing in nocuous air.

  Cherry-colored cheeks bulging outwards.

  I am undeserving of his wholesomeness.

  The tenderness of a childlike man who doesn't know truth in a world built from fiction.

  My brother is the last thought on my mind when I lay down to sleep at night.

  My brother is the amorous half of my soul that knows I am pathetic.

  My brother is the anodyne when I agonize over taking a life.

  My brother is my selfishness.

  His handsome smile is stamped on my ugly face, my brother.

  He carries my sins and I carry his disdain, my brother.

  Their unworthiness to be in his presence, how am I any different?

  My brother never saw the headless women whose bodies kept me warm at night or the shimmer of blood covering breast beneath intimate moonlight.

  My brother is nadir and I am zenith.

  My brother... his name... I gasp it aloud.

  A sighing shriek for reminiscences no longer akin to me.

  I cherish him, but my brother doesn't know me.

  It is I who is nadir and he who is zenith.

  A sheltered innocence.

  The warm cocoon of perverse disposition.

  Resembling the womb we were created in.

  He prefers this uterus and I grovel with resentment.

  I stain his legacy through impulsive satisfaction without guilt for becoming asinine.

  Every breath I breathe I give unto him, yet he stays lost in my dreams.

  An endless expansive fantasy.

  My brother lives apart and I feel him here.

  My brother is far from my heart and I taste the citrine yogurt rolling across his tongue.

  He tastes splendor, my brother.

  I taste blood, his keeper.

  He laughs from his gut, my brother.

  And, I laugh from indifference.