[She took What?] - Chapter 96: Davy’s Story – From Penumbra to Light: What just happened?

“It’s a pocket piece that knows your fortune and keeps the darkness away.”

Rebecca remembering her talks with Davy.

|Location: The Ringtail Planet|

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Davy crossed to the bodies, they weren’t just dead, they were deformed and defiled. His mote flared; tongues of green energy licked at the red corpses as if trying to salve their wounds.

His mind burned with visions; red motes, twisted and forced into unwilling hosts. They fought back, seeking escape, but fell shattered, lost and broken. Balance destroyed. Their purpose and control stripped away.

He reached up, touched the mote at his neck, and collapsed amongst the reds. Convulsions wracked his body as the visions consumed him; forced intrusion, corruption, a world unmoored, drowning in chaos and losing its sense of purpose.

 

Davy’s grip loosened and then finally slipped off his mote. The visions and convulsions immediately stopped but he just lay there, a parody of the broken reds around him. He was hardly moving but for the rise and fall of his chest. He came round slowly and as he sat up said, “What happened?” he asked when he saw the surprised looks on everyone’s face.

“You started convulsing and fell to the floor. That’s all.” Said Nix.

“Well, I’m not surprised. It felt like they were trying to inject red motes into me. Some sort of test that these poor souls were put through. And failed.”

 

Davy took time to look around the room. There were pistols and muskets strewn across the floor, broken and cast away. “Like the bodies,” he mused solemnly.

He picked up a pistol, it had a small mark on the handle, near where the power cell would be.

“Rebecca, look at this. Do you recognise this glyph?” he said showing her.

She took the pistol from Davy and inspected it closely. Red motes clustered around her, trying to pass through it but they just bounced off its surface.

“Yes. It’s like an abyssal flame, but somehow twisted, distorted. What’s it doing on their weapons?”

She handed the pistol back to him. He turned it over in his hand then rubbed at the glyph. Immediately he was assaulted by visions of flames that consumed countless worlds, their painful destruction a scream. At the heart of it all was a single mote, crushed and warped into a singular existence. Its agony pierced his thoughts, accompanied by a whispered question: “Why?”

Rebecca rushed to him as his green mote flared, combining with the red flames that engulfed the pistol. She was too late. The pistol exploded in a shower of yellow flecks, throwing Davy across the room where he lay, still unmoving as the shadows crept back in.

 

Becson and Nix rushed over, checking to see if he was OK.

 

Slowly, Davy sat up, running his hands over his chest, then brushing down his arms and legs, checking for blood, broken bones, anything out of place. He patted his chest pocket, then instinctively reached to his wrist; only to find the braid gone. His hand hovered there a moment longer than necessary.

“You need to stop doing that.” Said Nix, her relief at seeing him

“Lady Liberty?” he murmured, finding the silver dollar tucked into his shirt. He thumbed the face, the edges smooth and familiar. Everything felt good, solid. Still him. So he nodded, more to himself than anyone else. “I’m Ok. I think.”

Rebecca crouched nearby, shaken, eyes wide but locked on him.

“What just happened?” she whispered, unable to explain it, not even to herself; but something about Davy felt… settled.

A stillness, deep and quiet, like a storm that had passed. She sensed a shift in him, not just physical. A kind of balance, like something had finally clicked into place.

Had he found his purpose? The thought rose inside her like a question not her own, then vanished the moment she tried to grab at it.

 

Then Davy jerked, one hand reaching up to his neck.

“Is the mote intact?” he asked.

 

His fingers brushed the curve of his collarbone, then dropped with a long sigh. “Yeah. Still here.”

But even as he said it, something in his voice betrayed a quiet unease. Like he wasn’t entirely sure what it was that was still here; or who he was now that it was.

Then looking around he slowly got to his feet and asked, “Where’s the pistol?”

It lay in the middle of the room, smouldering and surrounded by red smoke. Becson bent down and prodded it with his own pistol. Nothing. Then tentatively touched it.

“It’s cold,” he said surprised. 

He then turned it over. The stock and rear of the barrel were completely blown apart. Nothing of the innards remained.

“It’s well and truly broken,” he said. “Looks like the energy cell cracked open. Never seen that before.”

“Just as it exploded,” Davy said, “I felt a surge of raw emotion, wrath. A release, like a breath held for too long and then let go. But also, an escape that brings harmony, restores balance and brings purpose.”

Davy picked up another pistol and found the same glyph.

“I’m not sure that’s a good idea,” said Nix. “We know what happened last time.”

Davy looked at Rebecca and without breaking eye contact touched his mote and the pistol’s stock at the same time. A strange pop echoed; sharp, unnatural. The pistol’s stock snapped open in a burst of red light. Davy flinched, dropped the pistol and laughed nervously.

“Sorry,” he said.

Rebecca stifled a laugh, her ears flicking in amusement.

Two red motes flew out of the pistol and were immediately joined by others already in the room. They came together, merged into a coherent swarm, then parted as if performing an intimate dance.

“Did you see that, there were motes in the guns! They must have been forced in there,” Rebecca said shaking her head in disbelief. “No wonder they felt wrong. Can you do that to the other guns?”

“I can try.” Davy said. “Get me the rest of the pistols and muskets.”

One by one he worked on them, with Rebecca guiding his thoughts, her presence providing stability and control.

As he opened the rest, releasing the red motes trapped within, Rebecca watched his movements precise yet instinctual, his mote pulsing green in tandem with each release. “How are you doing this?” she finally whispered, half in awe.

Davy just shrugged, “I’m not sure I am.”

 

When all the guns had been disarmed, Rebecca sat by Davy’s side, her tail curled around his feet. “Best view in the house,” she gestured to Becson and Nix as he danced, and she soared within a vibrant swirl of red motes.

 

But beneath the beauty of the moment, a faint undercurrent of pain lingered in the room.

Then, slowly two red halos of motes emerge from the eddies. In the middle of each, suspended and slowly spinning was a solitary red mote. They drifted across towards Davy.

 

Rebecca made Diri and spoke to Davy in a hushed, almost reverent voice, “It is said that motes are living splinters of the SolDiri. Imbued with their knowledge, will and power. A sliver of the greater SolDiri essence that interacts with the world around it.”

Calm whispers formed in Davy’s head, and comprehension came. He made Diri and instead of returning his hands to his side he left them outstretched, palms up and said, “Balance and purpose must endure.”

 

Upon seeing the halos carry the dying motes towards Davy, Becson and Nix stopped and watched as the motes were released in his hands.

He closed his hands around the red motes and calmed himself. He pictured a symphony of stars, scattered as a backdrop across the sky and heard echoes of ancient songs, Old Music. He saw the moon and its predictable phases, full of darkness and light, driving the tides on earth as they washed noisily up the beach. 

 

The green mote at Davy’s neck pulsed gently. Its cadence matching his calming heart and the gentle swell breaking across time. Then, when he was in balance, green energy swept down his arms and a massive wave crashed through his hands forcing them open. Both motes flew up into the air and spiralled around each other, reborn. Joy filled the room.

As Rebecca watched, a strange awareness built within her. She could feel Davy’s balance shifting, something settling within him. Rebecca reached up and wiped at the tears on Davy’s cheeks. “It’s a good thing we have done here, but I sense a greater imbalance approaching.”

 

“I was hoping we could explore both markers in the one day, but this has been intense.” Said Davy as they walked back to the Bird.

“It’ll be harder tomorrow,” said Rebecca. “The Shadow Eclipse will be over.”

“But isn’t it over now. Sunlight’s back.” He said pointing to the sun.

“Partially, yes, but there is residual power which we can still use while the Veil remains thin. We should go now and see if the other marker is the factory, if we can.”

Davy turned to Nix, “How long will it take us to get to the second marker?”

“Ten, fifteen minutes max,” she patted the side of the Bird. “I can fly us there if that’s what we need to do.”

“It’s decided then; we go to the second marker. Now!”

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