TFS: Burnt Earth

Molly – 35 years ago

Major Asshole is less than pleased to see me. I feel the same. Twinning hard on the hate factor.

“Why so glum?” Murphy teases him. “It’s not like we woke you up.”

Tyler scowls at him. I understand the joke at least. Unlike Sumairs, Solathairs don’t sleep. Sleep offers rejuvenation, which only happens for Solathairs when they slurp the essence out of a human.

“I found her wandering around aimlessly, and I had a thought,” Murphy begins.

“That’s a first,” Tyler mutters.

“We need to convert her,” Murphy blurts out. Clearly, tact isn’t on his resume as a personal attribute.

“What, do tell, led you to that conclusion?” he prods. “Or who, should I say? Did Asteria have anything to do with it?”

Murphy flashes him a daring smile. “I haven’t seen her in days.”

“We were all together this morning.”

“Time is relative.”

“As I already told Asteria, I take my orders from the Archives. Until they give me the green light to convert her, I won’t be converting her.”

“A likely excuse.”

“Not an excuse. A fact.”

“Sounds like an excuse to me,” Murphy pushes him. “Is it because they’re related? So are Machk and Len. They’re twins!”

“It has nothing to do with them being related,” Tyler states.

“Or is it because she’s a girl?” Murphy persists. “Are you afraid of letting a girl into your all boys club?”

Fuck, this dude is winning some kudos from me at this point. Graduating from piss flaps to squirt guns. It’s a compliment. Trust me on this.

“Gender has no relevance here,” Tyler rumbles, his voice telling the tale of angry volcanos dangerously close to erupting.

I believe that. Though Sheelin’s been cautious to lead me to the showers only when they’re vacant, the men I’ve seen don’t look at me like a girl. They don’t look at me like anything, and their presence, for that matter, has no hormonal effect on me. It really should too. They’re fucking hot. All sculpted perfection. Sadly, my hormones are completely hibernating. I haven’t even thought about them until this very moment. No periods. No hair growth. It seems possible we’re in a time capsule, preserved for an undetermined period of time.

“We convert only on the order of the Archives,” Tyler repeats.

“Convert her and be done with it,” commands a new voice. Both Tyler and Murphy tense every muscle in their body. If not for the fact Solathairs don’t expel anything, I reckon those good ole boys would be shitting themselves just now.

Perhaps the Tribunal is a table of four, but clearly not everyone’s sitting in the same sized chair. The man entering the room demands allegiance, and they’ll give it. Whether that allegiance is born of fear or respect matters little. When he looks at me, he sees all of me, burning a path directly to my soul. I feel naked and embarrassed, not deserving to be in his presence. Fuck, do I ever hate myself for feeling that way.

“Come with me,” Tyler grumbles.

“Is it going to hurt?” I murmur.

“I sure as hell hope so.”

Like I said, total asshole.

Tyler walks me out of the main hall and into a room nearby. He intends to spare no time for conversion disclaimers. That doesn’t bother me. I have a vague idea what to expect: crippling addiction and shapeshifting as a side benefit. Whether I read the terms and conditions makes no fucks. I wouldn’t understand them anyway.

The direct connections between the Solathair creator and the created Sumair lead me to believe a Sumair can use the elemental ability granted by the Solathair making them (i.e. earth=earth, air=air), but that doesn’t mean the abilities granted are the same with every creation. Still, the Sentry has a single, uniform ability—shapeshifting. It’s clear to me Tyler somehow uses his bonding ability during conversion to manipulate the results. Asteria uses the air element to manipulate memories. She’s also created the Scholars: Writers, Readers, and Archives. Tyler controls the earth element. His ability allows him to create and strengthen bonds between people. He created the Sentry like Asteria created the Scholars.

In the case of the Sentry, the entire team can shapeshift into land-dwelling creatures. They call themselves ‘Land-walkers’. Apparently, a millennium ago, there were three shapeshifting designations: land-walkers, sky-fliers, and water-gliders. For whatever reason, Tyler hasn’t been able to create anything but land-walkers since then.

There are about twelve other land-walkers residing in Sheelin. I haven’t been introduced to any of them. My conversion will likely change that. His tethering abilities are why the Sentry is so closely knit. I’ll be bound to them. Just as they’re all bound to Tyler. We’ll be bound to each other. A bojank tree with gangly ass branches. Maybe they’ll stop ignoring me then. Do I actually want them to?

No idea how my new status will impact the Sentry. I’m not like those fuckers. Aside from the obvious gender difference, I wasn’t chosen. Based on guidance from the Archives, Tyler sends out teams to gather chosen candidates. That’s the process. He receives the order and follows it. Connor was chosen. I’m simply collateral damage. What if they don’t accept me? What if the conversion doesn’t work at all? What if I die? What’ll happen to Connor?

“Hold the fuck up,” I hesitate.

“I don’t have time for your fears, Girl,” he bellows impatiently.

“Molly,” I reiterate. “My name’s Molly, and you’d be wise to fucking remember it.”

His lip curls up at one side, yet I don’t back down. I square my shoulders, standing proudly before him. I refuse to let him see even an ounce of weakness. I stiffen my muscles to keep them from shaking and betraying my false bravery. Unlike the Solathairs, I can shit my pants, but I’m not going to. Not here. Not now.

He reaches out his hands, placing them on my shoulders to draw me closer. “Relax.” His voice softens, and I know it’ll be one of the only times, if not the only time, he speaks to me with that sort of gentleness.

I close my eyes when the energy drain starts. I finally understand what it means to have someone ‘suck the life out of me’. It feels like I’ve just finished a twenty-k marathon. Everything in my body aches, while at the same time it’s invigorating. It hurts, but not in the way I feared. It’s like getting a tattoo. I want to push through the pain to the result I know awaits me at the end, a permanent marking to showcase the pieces of me I want the world to see.

I’m giving him my life force. In return, with each needle piercing through my skin, something of him remains, something sweet and tempting leaving me longing for more. His magic is contagious. The craving it causes is intoxicating and instantaneous. It’s all I can think about. The questions rattling around in my brain disappear. The only thing remaining is a single, driving desire to consume him. I want to suck his intestines through my lips like a spaghetti noodle, filling up the hollow in the pit of my stomach.

The conversion doesn’t take long. When he starts to feel me pulling at his energy, it stops. Not that I could stop if I wanted to, but he isn’t about to take any chances with a reciprocal energy drain. Rude fucker. Dine and dash prick. Give me a tip! Asshole.

I thought myself hollow when Asteria extracted my memories, but she didn’t empty me. Not like this. What she did was a minor thing compared to the hole Tyler dug. I stand here on weak knees, his hands on my shoulders the only thing keeping me upright. Even they can’t keep me vertical for long. When my traitorous knees finally flake the fuck out, he scoops me into his arms and carries me to my room.

“When will I change?” I ask groggily.

“You already have,” Tyler claims.

“I can dog now?”

He lifts a brow.

“Change…like Connor…a creature…eat all the fucking scraps.”

“We don’t shapeshift into dogs, and I’m not sure what your conversion will mean for you. Time will tell. You need to rest now,” he orders me. Connor stirs when he places me in my bed. “See that she does.”

In a voice thick with sleep, Connor agrees, “I will, Sir.”

And rest I do. I sleep off and on for two straight days. It’s the last good sleep I’ll have for ten years.