TFS: Burnt Earth

Molly – 35 years ago

Having the memories extracted was easy, and it wasn’t painful. Of course, I don’t remember that part, but watching it happen through the picture screen shows a contented actress, relieved by what Asteria took away. Filling the void left in the wake of my memories isn’t nearly as easy. It’s strange viewing myself this way, separated from the emotional pieces completing the puzzle. It’s like trying to put on a pair of pants two years too small. Why the fuck do I even need to wear pants anyway? They’re annoying as shit. They chafe, especially when they’re too fucking small.

Asteria takes me to the Archives. Essentially, the Archives are a great big filing cabinet of stuff. They know everything, but instead of telling people what they need to know, they show them with picture cards via a projection straight into the brain. Instant knowledge. No studying required. No reading for comprehension. The implantation makes it difficult to retain what I’m being shown. Mind. Fucking. Blown. Maybe literally.

I learn Asteria’s a Solathair, someone born with the ability to manipulate elemental energy. In Asteria’s case, she manipulates the air element in the way of memory extraction. She’s the Air delegate in the Sinsear Tribunal—a table of four, who lead all the Solathairs. Each Solathair has a unique ability, derived from one of four base elements: air, earth, water, and fire.

Solathairs are immortal, so long as the energy within them is continually replenished. They draw needed energy from humans, which makes them, by rudimentary definition, energy vampires.

Connor is not a Solathair. He’s something else, a branch from the Solathair tree. He’s a Sumair. Sumairs are created when a Solathair takes energy from a human, but they leave the human alive. In keeping them alive, the human becomes fundamentally dependent on Solathair energy to survive. They’re an eternal energy addict without a detox option. Unlike Solathairs, Sumairs can’t obtain the energy they need from humans. They can only get it from Solathairs. When the energy diminishes, they go through horrible withdrawals, which is what Connor’s choosing to experience.

His reasoning for self-induced suffering makes sense. While he knows he can’t completely overcome the addiction, that isn’t his main goal. As a Sumair, he doesn’t age, and Connor was brought into the Sentry at a very young physical age of fifteen. He was ten years older than me at the time. By allowing the Sumair energy to run out, he awards himself the opportunity to age, but it’s a slow and painful process that’ll take him hundreds of years to get his body to the physical age he deems ideal.

When Asteria feels I’ve been shown enough to at least quell the largest abundance of my potential questions, she stops the slideshow. There’s far too much information available for my human brain to process it all. Thankfully, the historical account is largely need to know. I don’t need to know much. The problem is they’ve opened a valve and given me enough of a taste to make me curious about everything.

“Just so we’re clear, what you’re looking for from me is to babysit him, right? Offer a sort of companionship and support? Not a nurse maid?” If they think I’m hanging around here to change his shitty diapers, they’ve got another thing coming. I’ll smother him with his own excrement. Swear to fuck.

“We’ve spent the last fifteen years trying to contain him,” she admits. “Maybe you’ll have better luck.”

I shrug. He’s mentally older than me. I’m not sure what they expect me to do more than pat him on the back and lie to him everything will be okay. Everything isn’t okay. This place is all fucked up like a soup sandwich.

“Maybe you should’ve waited for a few years to take him,” I offer. “Then you could’ve left me alone.”

“The Sentry doesn’t seek out potentials so young. Connor was an exception.”

“Because of the car accident?”

“Because of the car accident,” she confirms.

“Why didn’t you just prevent it from happening?”

“The Writers forced our hands,” she explains. “Taking him early was the only option they gave us.”

“The Writers?”

“My air element designation houses the Sinsear Scholars. There are Readers, Writers, and the Archives. The Archives you just met. Readers read powers. They can tell everything about a power the moment it comes into existence. The Writers write our history, which is translated by the Readers and relayed by the Archives.”

“I didn’t see anyone in the room.”

“No,” she retorts. “You didn’t and you won’t.”

“So, the air element has you as a leader. Inside it there are Scholars. There are those who write the history (Writers), those who translate the history (Readers), and those who relay the history (Archives).”

“That sums it up nicely.”

“Okay, what’s Connor? Is he an air elemental like you?”

“No, Connor’s an Earth Sumair.”

“Which means what?”

“He was converted by an Earth Solathair, which means the powers he displays are also of the earth element.”

“Converted by who?”

“Converted by his leader.”

“Who’s his leader?”

She frowns. “You’ll be properly introduced to him soon enough. I think it’d be better if you see Connor first.”

“He was the asshole, wasn’t he?”

“Yes.”

“What does he want with my brother?”

“Connor’s a Sentry Scout.”

“The Archives decided that? Your Scholars are pulling the purse strings?”

“In a sense.”

“Converting him came at the cost of his perpetual teenager body,” I theorize. “Does it come with crazy teen tantrums too?”

“His emotions are stuck in teenager stasis. It’s been hard to control him. He failed his last mission and went missing. When he was located, it was in proximity to you. Again. When he returned, you were with him.”

“He’s the one that brought me here?”

She scowls.

“He must’ve been terribly alone.”

“Yes.” She quickens her steps, and I match her pace as we make our way through the halls. She’s getting frustrated every time we turn a corner.

“The walls are moving, aren’t they?

“Sheelin gets her amusement where she can.”

“Sheelin?”

“This place,” she clarifies. “It’s alive.”

“We’re in the belly of the beast,” I whisper.

“That’s one way of putting it,” she agrees. “Sheelin takes what energy she needs from us. In return, she offers us protection. She also gives it when needed.”

“What if she takes too much?”

“That’s never happened,” she assures me. “She senses how much we have available to give.”

“Does she take energy from people like you or from people like me?”

“She draws energy from Solathairs, and when required, Sumairs.”

“But not from me?”

She pauses for a moment, and the sound of shifting rock comes from behind us again as we turn another corner.

“We’ll talk more later.” She stops in front of a closed door. “We’re here.”

She doesn’t come in with me when I step through. “You’re not coming?”

She shakes her head.

“What if I need something?”

“I’ll know if you do.”

“What if I need to go back to my room?”

“Sheelin will guide you.”

“You’re just leaving me here?”

“Yes.”

With that, she’s gone. Why do I feel so alone in her absence? It’s just me and my brother in a dimly lit room with damp walls seeming hungry for any heat we can provide them. I don’t have what she’s looking for. How long will it be before I get my eviction notice?

I let the sound of Connor’s heavy breaths lead me to his bed. I can barely see him in the dark, but I remember every bit of his face perfectly. He’s exactly the same. It feels like he was taken from me only moments ago. Except I’m not looking at him through the eyes of a five-year-old girl. I’m no longer his younger sister. I’m a grown woman, and he isn’t the big brother protecting me. It’s my turn to do the protecting. I climb into the bed beside him, wrapping my arms around his shivering form. He isn’t alone. Not anymore. We have each other. That has to be enough.