Guardians of the Dark

Samael traced his finger around the edge of his cup. He eyed the dark liquid inside, the Emperor’s special brew. He had no idea what went in it, but whatever it was, it tasted of spirits mixed with ginger or cayenne. Emperor Sumuri saved his special brew for even more special occasions – such as this one, it seemed.

“Let us toast!” announced Emperor Sumuri at the head of the table. Samael sat opposite him at the other end, surrounded by some of the most renowned Corrupted in Dark Capital history. Although most of them were old and grey already, they nonetheless cherished a seat at any of the Emperor’s honorary banquets.

The guests around the table raised their cups.

“To Samael of the Dark,” the Emperor went on, motioning to Samael across from him. He winked his left eye, then turned in his chair-half-throne to the first-generation projection pad on the wall. It showed a muted news report on General Bentley Traynor in the Metropolis of Light Hospital. “And to our fallen foe!”

“To Samael of the Dark,” the guests repeated, “and to our fallen foe!”

Samael felt obliged to raise his cup. He waited until Emperor Sumuri took the first sip, before he, and the rest of the guests, followed. The liquid skidded hot and spicily down his throat, parching it almost instantly. He coughed, wincing at every jolt. His shoulder throbbed into his head and fingers, so he put the cup down.

“I don’t get it,” said Theon at the head of the table with the Emperor. He hadn’t touched his cup yet, and twirled a knife in his hand – most likely one he had picked up in the raid. “The General’s merely in a coma.”

“He’s indisposed, isn’t he?” The Emperor swirled his cup around. Some of the liquid spilled over the edge, dripping onto the table. The wooden surface, uneven and swollen in places, transported the liquid around.

Theon stabbed his knife into the wood. “Indisposed or not, you’re all acting as if Samael killed the man …”

“If I recall correctly, you’re the one who called the retreat, Theonisus,” noted Theon’s father, the former second-in-command. He, like the Emperor, seemed little bothered by Theon’s display of strength and upset.

“I only called the retreat, father, because your hero, Samael, was bleeding out.”

Emperor Sumuri tutted. “It’s not like you to care about other people’s wellbeing, Theon. I’m stunned, to be frank.”

“So, what? You wanted me to let him die?” Theon rambled on before anyone could reply. “We all know Samael’s your favourite. Your little charity case. If I left him there to die, you’d have had me exiled or killed!”

The Emperor took a sip from his drink. He tilted his head back, gulped down the last drops of liquid, and held out his cup for one of the servants to fill it up. He said, “What are your thoughts on the matter, Samael?”

Samael jerked. He blinked rapidly, scanning the banquet table. All eyes were on him. All except for Theon’s. His were at the back of his head, visibly annoyed. Frustrated. When their gazes met, Theon’s nostrils flared.

“I – uh,” Samael began, but paused. He raised his eyes to the projection pad, to the unconscious body of General Bentley Traynor. “Theon should’ve left me to die. I failed my mission. He should be dead, not just in a –” His voice caught in his throat when the camera switched from the General, to the person beside his bed.

To Kasen.

So, that’s what he looked like these days. The years have certainly been kind to him. He had glossy, blonde hair that swept across his face, and a perfectly defined jaw. His uniform fit snugly around his arms and chest, and he had eyes the shade of what the sky looked like in the Metropolis of Light. He was honestly …

Handsome.

“Ah, what an appealing young Guardian,” commented Emperor Sumuri, evidently trying to lighten the mood.

“The General’s son, I suppose,” said Theon’s father.

The Emperor laughed from his stomach, but it tumbled into a roar. “Ha! The son of a Gatherer, corrupted by the Dark!”

“What’s the runt’s name again?” Theon kept his head down, but Samael knew the question was directed at him.

“Kasen,” said Samael with his tongue in his throat.

“Kasen …” The word rolled off Theon’s father’s tongue. “How I’d love to rip that boy’s head right off his shoulders. Let the General see for himself what it feels like to lose a loved one. Like they’ve stripped us of ours.”

“All of your loved ones are still alive, father,” grumbled Theon. He grabbed his cup and gulped down everything in one go. When one of the servants approached to fill it up for him, he showed her away with a huff.

Theon’s father frowned. “The entire Dark Capital is my family, Theonisus.”

Theon scoffed.

“Oh, so that’s funny to you, eh? Don’t tell me you don’t want to get your hands on that runt yourself?”

Samael choked.

“Gentleman, please,” Emperor Sumuri interrupted, “no one is killing the Guardian.” A pause in which Samael sank in his chair. “And by no one, I mean no one except for our newest Raider, Samael of the Dark!”

Samael tensed again.

As did Theon. And he didn’t just tense, but jumped right to his feet. “What? Emperor Sumuri, he can’t be promoted after just one raid … especially not a failed one! He damn near got himself killed out there!”

The Emperor refused to speak until Theon sat back down. He rubbed across his brows with his long, skeletal fingers. “Despite his downfall, Theon, Samael proved himself necessary for my future plans.”

Theon scoffed, but didn’t snap anything in reply.

“So, Samael,” the Emperor went on, his voice chirping, “why don’t you tell us exactly what you’d like to do with Kasen?”

“What I’d like to do with him? Uh …” Samael swallowed, accidentally too hard. His eyes flicked to the projection pad again, which no longer showed a clip of Kasen, but a walk-through of the hospital’s emergency ward instead. He stared at it, horrified-slightly-revolted, and involuntarily blurted out, “So much blood …”

Luckily, it worked in his favour.

“Blood? Ohh, go on.” Theon’s father sounded intrigued.

Samael didn’t know what else to say, so he looked to the news report for help. “I’m going to stuff his mouth with rags … soaked in his own blood.” A bunch of the guests cooed. “And, pliers … I’m going to pull out his nails with pliers.” He tried not to think of anything he said. An image flashed in his mind, and he gagged.

“You’re going to pull out his nails with pliers?” asked Theon with raised brows and a down-turned mouth.

Samael did the only thing he could: nod.

“Interesting, coming from you …”

“Yes, quite interesting indeed. But that’s precisely the nitty-gritty stuff I want to hear from my new second-in-command,” praised Emperor Sumuri, raising his cup again. He nearly spilled the entire contents on his kimono when Theon pushed back against the table and leapt to his feet, toppling over his chair.

“The new what?” he bellowed through inflated cheeks.

Samael’s face also lit with colour. He had bargained on becoming a Raider, but the Emperor’s new second-in-command? That was one step too far, too fast. He almost died today, and this was only his first ever raid …

“Shared second-in-command, to be precise,” the Emperor clarified. He took a sip, then puckered his thin lips. “The two of you showed immense skill today. Not only on your own, but also in working together.”

Theon banged his hand on the table, rattling the cutlery. “We showed skill? Ha! I was the one who showed skill. Samael showed inexperience and the inability to control himself. I refuse to let a Tracker co-lead my team!”

“Theonisus –”

“No, father!” Theon snarled and kicked at his chair. It tumbled across the floor, echoing throughout the banquet hall. The guests around the table broke into murmurs. “If I didn’t save his sorry behind, Samael would be dead. No, my entire team would be dead. If I didn’t save him, if I didn’t call a retreat when I did –”

“Enough, Theon!” Emperor Sumuri’s voice deepened.

Theon shut up.

“A second-in-command never demands recognition. You know this.”

“I guess I’m not cut out to be second-in-command, then.” Theon whacked the table’s edge, then stomped down the length of it. He kept his shoulders back and his chin up, his nose scrunched into a knob. He snorted when he passed Samael, then spat on the ground. “I hope that shoulder of yours gets infected or something.”

And with that, Theon left the banquet hall. The doors slid open and closed, leaving a silent table in his wake.

Or at least, nearly silent.

Theon’s father huffed in disappointment. He said, “Emperor Sumuri, I apologise for my son’s awful behaviour.”

“Don’t fret, Crux,” the Emperor assured him. He curled his arms through the air, banishing any negative energy – or what he considered negative energy – that Theon left behind. “He’ll come around in time for my plan.”

Samael glanced sideways at the door. Theon had just thrown a chair in the Emperor’s face, and stormed out of his honorary banquet, all without angering him? He always did have a way about handling people, about daunting them into submission. What a gift. What a threat. What a difficult time lay ahead …

“Uh,” he said, and everyone turned toward him, “what plan, exactly?”

The Emperor’s mouth relaxed into a smile. “Oh, my dear Samael,” he cooed, “all will be revealed in time.”

That didn’t say much.

Samael shifted in his chair, much to another jolt of pain. He reached for the bandage across his shoulder, his thoughts drifting to the look on the General’s face before he collapsed. He thought of Kasen on the news, and how he sat by his father’s bed with red-stained eyes and a swollen cheek. He thought of his own threats, and shivered. Did he really mean those things? No. He couldn’t possibly kill the only person who ever meant anything to him. The only person who didn’t know him for where he was born.

The Emperor raised his glass to his lips, and went on, “All you have to do is cherish that hate of yours. You’ll get a chance to finish your mission, Samael, I promise.” He took a sip, but promptly placed down the cup when the doors on the other end of the hall slid open, and a line of servants marched out with silver boxes.

Emperor Sumuri waited until every guest was served a box, before he said, “Now, my dear friends, let’s feast!”