Guardians of the Dark

“Kasen, honey, can you tint the windows for me, please?” asked Marian Traynor as she carried three silver boxes to the dining table. General Bentley Traynor tucked a napkin into his collar, then sat back so his wife could serve dinner.

“Sure thing, mom,” agreed Kasen, making his way downstairs. He rounded to the front door, pressed the button next to the window, and watched as the glass went from transparent to pitch-black. He repeated this with all the windows across the living room, and, just like that, it was evening in the Metropolis of Light.

“What’s for dinner?” he asked, walking over to the table. His parents were already seated, so he slid onto the chair and adjusted the box in front of him. Honestly, he wouldn’t mind another helping of that afternoon’s meat.

“It’s a surprise,” said his mother. She watched him reach for the button on the box, then smacked away his hand. She tutted. “But you’ll have to wait until after we’ve given you your present, Kasen. I promised you.”

Kasen feigned a smile. Of course, the special present from his father. He could hardly wait another second for it.

Not.

“You two keep the conversation going,” said-half-ordered his mother, and got up from the dining table. “I’ll be right back with the gift.” She tossed her napkin aside, straightened her flouncy pants, and ran up the stairs.

Kasen turned in his seat so he faced the window next to the projection pad. He couldn’t see anything other than pitch-black darkness, but it sure bested looking at his father. In fact, if he squinted a little, he could just about make out the shape of their other neighbour’s house. A mere outline. Did the night really look like that?

He wouldn’t know.

“Happy birthday, Kasen.”

“Um, thanks, dad.”

“I – I’m proud of you, you know,” said his father, half-hesitantly. He too stared beyond Kasen at the window in the kitchen. He tapped his heel against the tiles – tap, tap, tap – and occasionally pulled at his collar.

“What did you just say?” asked Kasen, stunned.

“I said, I’m proud of you.” His father was the first to make eye contact. “I always knew you’d make the AOL.”

Oh, right.

The AOL.

Kasen’s mouth flushed with bile. The back of his neck warmed, and beads of sweat swelled along his hairline, threatening to run down his shirt. He cast his eyes on the table. On the silver box. “Yes, well, about that –”

“The aptitude test is not easy. Not easy at all. So many applicants returned home today with less than good news, but let me tell you, son, when I saw your name on that list … I was just overwhelmed with pride.”

“List?” asked Kasen. “What list?” His voice pitched at the end of his sentence, and he cleared his throat to correct it.

“Each successful applicant is displayed on a list in my office. My assistant kept track of them throughout the day, and I asked her to notify me if your name came up. Boy, you just about flew through the first two sections!”

Kasen thought perhaps his father wanted him to smile, to thank him and start telling all sorts of anecdotes about the physical section of the test, but he was too sick to his stomach to even fake it anymore. He asked, “You saw my performance? What – uh – else did the list display? Did you see my select –”

“Here we are!” his mother interrupted, skipping down the stairs again. “It was tucked away a little, but I managed to find it.” She carried a square package in her hands, wrapped in traditional wrapping-paper and a ribbon.

“I must confess,” his father went on, rather chuffed, “I did pick this out quite some time ago. Two years, is it?”

His mother nodded. She carefully placed down the package, right in front of Kasen. His eyes widened as he looked at it, and his throat tightened. Two years? What sort of person picks out a gift two years in advance? And what type of gift can even be picked out that early? He looked up, meeting his mother’s gaze.

Tears spooled in her eyes.

“Go on,” she nudged him, “open it.”

Kasen held his breath. He found the edge of the wrapping-paper, tucked his fingers under it, and slowly, carefully, began to pull. The paper ripped much easier than he thought, so he lessened his strength. He felt as though he wanted to close his eyes, but his parents gawked at him with such hopeful, anticipatory expressions …

Oh.

A glass case.

Kasen sighed in relief as the corner of the case came into view. He adjusted his grip on the paper and ripped the rest away … Suddenly, his relief transformed into something darker, something painful and twisted.

“Do you like it?” his mother demanded to know.

“I, well –” Kasen didn’t let go of the wrapping-paper just yet. He gawked at the helmet in the case, old and tattered-looking, and with a surname on the back: Traynor. It was his father’s very first Gatherer helmet. The one that went with his very first insolation suit. “Mom … Dad … I don’t really know what to say … what is this?”

His dad burst into laughter. The sound rolled in billows off his tongue, deeply, roughly, almost unnaturally. He said, “It’s my very first Gatherer helmet, son. It’s not quite what it was, I admit, so I don’t expect you to wear it when you go out into the Dark. I just thought I’d give it to you as inspiration for the future.”

“Your dad won’t always be the General, you know,” added his mother. She began to gather the wrapping-paper.

Kasen shoved the box away from him. His voice broke as he said, “Dad … you really shouldn’t have done this …”

“Nonsense! You’re my one and only son!”

Kasen sat back in his chair. He licked across his teeth, still tasting nothing but bile. This was going to be much harder than he thought. If only the special present had been something like a knife, or a bottle of whiskey.

“Kasen,” said his father after a moment of silence, “don’t you like it?”

“Did you expect something else?” contributed his mother. She sat back down at the table, pushing her hair behind her ears. Her eyes drooped down in disappointment and her face paled. She nonetheless kept on smiling.

It hurt just looking at her.

“Son?” his father repeated.

“It’s nothing, really.” Kasen pushed back his chair and rose to his feet. “I guess I’m just not that hungry. Mom left me a pretty big lunch, and I snacked on something this afternoon … I’ll be in my room if you need me.”

Kasen turned for the stairs, but before he gave the first step, his father was on his feet. He banged his fist against the table. “Kasen,” he said for the third time, “the job of a Gatherer is dangerous. You should be proud.”

“Dad, I –”

But his father forestalled him, “Every one of those applicants, including those who passed, only ever dreamt of being selected as a Gatherer.” He rounded the table and walked up to Kasen. “You are one of the lucky ones, Kasen. You are my son, the son of the great General Bentley Traynor, and I shall not have you feel ungrateful for –”

“I’m not a Gatherer, dad!” Kasen blurted out. He spun around so quickly, he whacked over a vase beside the stairs.

It crashed to the ground.

“Oh, dear!” his mother exclaimed, but before she could get up to clear the mess, her husband stepped over the shards.

“What do you mean, you’re not a Gatherer? That’s impossible, you’re my son. I’m a Gatherer, and so was my father.” The let-down in his voice was unmistakable. He spoke twice as softly, and twice as slowly.

“Well, I’m not.”

General Bentley Traynor rubbed his forehead. A thick, blue vein throbbed between his brows, threatening to pop. Kasen had only seen said vein twice before in his life: The first time when Samael had cut his mother’s hand, and the second time when he, Kasen, had demanded to know why his father got rid of his brother.

They never spoke of it again.

“Can there be a mistake in the system, Bentley?” asked his mother, still in her chair by the dining table.

“No.” His father rounded the table again, but didn’t bang his fist against it this time. He fell down in his chair, visibly ashamed of his previous enthusiasm. Of his gift. Of his son. “The system doesn’t make mistakes.”

Kasen felt compelled to say something, but he didn’t exactly know what. He swayed on his heels, listening to the crunching of glass under his feet. He should’ve just gotten it all out when they arrived at home that afternoon. Now things were too intense. Too real. If only Clay was there to defuse the situation with a joke.

“I guess,” his father said after a while, “a Monitor is not as bad.”

Kasen gulped, feeling as though he had just swallowed his own heart. It throbbed in the pit of his stomach.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

“Yes, of course. He can keep control within the city, and never has to be exposed to the terrible Dark out there,” added his mother. She sounded excited all of a sudden, even more than when she had thought him a Gatherer.

“My brother is a Monitor. He could take Kasen under his wing.” His father looked up. “What do you say, son?”

Kasen chewed his tongue. He wanted to open his mouth, but couldn’t. He just couldn’t. One vase already broke. His mother wouldn’t be able to handle another, and neither, he suspected, would the neighbours.

“Honey, it’s okay. Not everyone’s cut out to be a Gatherer.” His mother got up from her chair, laid down her napkin, and approached him. She stepped across the shards with open arms, ready to embrace him, when –

Kasen pulled away. He reversed, grabbing onto the railing for support. The living room spun before his eyes, around and around and around. He looked at his father and saw nothing except shame. Shame and disgrace and disownment. How could they ever be okay with him being a Guardian, when he himself was yet to accept it? His eyes began to water, but he blinked it away. He didn’t dare cry in front of his father.

“Kasen?” asked his mother.

“I – I’m not a Monitor either,” he uttered. A single tear rolled across his cheek, but he was too terrified to wipe it away. It skidded down his neck into shirt, warm and wet, travelling all the way to his chest.

“No, that’s not possible,” came his father’s voice.

His mother turned to the dining table. She faced his father with extended arms, whispering, “Bentley, please …”

“Kasen, do you mean to say you’re a –” He couldn’t even bring himself to utter it. His brows contorted, shielding his eyes completely. His face turned crimson, and glassy beads formed on the sides of his cheeks.

“I’m a Guardian, dad.”

General Bentley Traynor appeared calm at first. Not calm, but without any reaction. It lasted for a good three seconds, before he reached under the table and flipped it on its side. The three silver boxes scattered across the living room, followed by the glass case – Kasen’s alleged inspiration for the future. It didn’t shatter like the vase did, but the helmet came loose on the inside and bopped around as it tumbled.

His mother screamed, “Bentley, stop it!”

But he didn’t acknowledge her. He marched through the mess, right up to Kasen, and pushed him back against the wall. “My son? A Guardian?” He made his hand into a fist, then raised it as he leaned over Kasen.

Kasen turned his cheek, preparing himself to be struck in the face, but the General punched the wall behind him instead. He kept his fist there as he sneered, “This is all his fault! Samael of the Dark had corrupted you!”

“What?” Kasen blurted out. Without thinking, he pushed the General off him. “You can’t possibly blame my brother for this?”

“Your brother?” The General spat the words as if they were poisonous. “That boy is the devil himself! He transferred his Dark to you, Kasen, don’t you see that? It’s because of him that you’re a Guardian now!”

Anger flushed through Kasen. He stomped his heel on the shards of glass. “Really, dad? Did you ever once think that it might be because of you?” he asked, and the look on the General’s face only fuelled his inner fire. “You abandoned him … left him in the Dark to die! It’s because of you that I’m a Guardian!”

“Why … how dare you speak to me this way!” The General raised his fist again, this time aiming at Kasen’s face. He tensed his knuckles and drew back, but his mother grabbed his hand from behind, stopping him.

“Bentley! Calm down this instant!” she shrieked.

General Bentley Traynor let out a roar. He opened his fist, reluctantly, and rubbed the vein on his forehead again. He turned his back to Kasen, tilted his chin to the ceiling, and said, “Get out of my living room …”

“Why do you hate Samael so much, eh? He’s a Corrupted, sure, but he still functions like a normal human being.”

“The Corrupted might look like normal human beings, but they’re sinister, constantly thinking of ways to do evil.”

“You can’t possibly know that.”

“I said, get out.”

“Happily,” huffed Kasen. He skipped up the stairs before either of his parents could change their minds. But he didn’t go to his room straight away. He waited at the top of the stairs, watching, listening as his parents spoke.

“None of this is Kasen’s fault, Bentley,” said his mother.

The General sat down on the sofa with his face in his hands. He shook his head, dismally, and sighed-half-groaned. “You don’t understand,” he said, “I had a plan. I should’ve just left Samael there the day I found him.”

“Don’t you dare speak about my boy that way.”

“You’re even worse than Kasen …” The General sank into the cushions. “Samael of the Dark is a monster, not a boy.”

His mother let go of her husband’s arm. She gathered one of the silver boxes, sat down next to him, and opened it to reveal a steamy meal. Kasen couldn’t see its contents – not even when she scooped some on a fork – but it sure smelled divine. His stomach grumbled and he grabbed at it with his hand. No dinner for him, then. He waited for either of his parents to say something else, but when they didn’t, he went to his room.

Kasen shut his bedroom door. He stood with his back against it, his eyes closed. They burned with tears again, only this time, he was determined to keep them down. After all, crying wouldn’t change a thing. He no longer had a choice, thus had to be strong like Doctor Marx had said. He was a Guardian, a Guardian of the Dark.

“It didn’t go well, eh?” asked someone, and Kasen’s eyes snapped open. He looked through the window, right into Clay’s bedroom, into Clay himself. He sat in the window-frame with his feet on the narrow ledge.

Kasen joined him. “Nope,” he said, “not well at all.”

“Cheer up, bud. He’ll come around.” Clay bit his lower lip. “Regarded you live long enough to see the day, that is.”

Kasen smirked, but didn’t laugh along. He rested his head against the window-frame, then swerved his eyes to the ever-sunny sky. Even at eight in the evening it looked no different than eight in the morning. The sun and moon switched places on the regular, although the Light never faded and the Dark never crept closer.

The Metropolis of Light, the city that never sleeps.

“You think you’ll get to see stars out there?” asked Kasen.

Clay took a second to ponder the question. “I don’t know,” he replied, “but, if I do, I’ll damn sure sneak you out there to see it.”

“Ha, thanks. You’re a really good friend.” Kasen swallowed as he said that. More burning tears. “I can’t believe tomorrow’s the start of the rest of our lives. We’ve been at school together for so long, I don’t know what I’ll do an entire day without you.” He took a good look at his best friend: his dark brown skin and eyes that matched it, and his ever-pearly, ever-smiling teeth that so easily buttered people up.

“I’ll miss you too, man,” he responded.

Kasen flashed a grin, although he hardly felt his muscles tighten. “Clay, do you think it’s Samael’s fault I’m like this?”

“Like what?” Clay shifted around uncomfortably. They hardly ever talked about feelings and such, and almost always about girls or games. He nonetheless kept a straight face, which made Kasen value him even more.

“So dark. So messed up inside.”

“I don’t know, man,” Clay admitted, “but I do think you have to let him go. I know he’s your brother and all, but he’s a Corrupted. Even if he’s still alive out there, he’s not the same person you think you remember.”

Kasen sighed. That wasn’t the answer he had hoped for, but Clay was right. Or wasn’t he? He couldn’t quite decide. “I know he’s still alive,” he said instead. “I can feel him out there, and I can only imagine his pain.”

“Just don’t make his pain yours, okay?”

“What?” asked Kasen, surprised at Clay’s answer.

Clay seemed somewhat self-conscious now. He broke the tension with a chuckle. “Mmm … that’s just something my mom used to say. She was a psychologist too before she died. Always said such insightful things.”

“Yea, I remember. Especially when she scolded us for hanging out the window like this, or sitting at the edge of the roof.” Kasen looked up at the sky again. He let the Light heat up his face, filling him with warmth to the pit of his soul. A part of him, though, remained unaffected. A dark, icy, hollow part of him.

The part that made him a Guardian.

“Thanks,” he said after a moment.

“What for?”

“For always seeing the Light in me, Clay.”