The Akashic Mandate

Chapter 2

"We just delayed the end," Elijah said quietly. He sheathed his heavy sword. "There are more of them every week. We are running out of iron spikes."

Marcus nodded slowly. "I know. We will figure something out. Go rest. You look terrible."

Elijah did not argue. His whole body felt heavy. But it was not just the tiredness from the battle. There was a strange, cold pain deep inside his left arm. It felt like ice water moving through his veins.

He walked slowly through the gates of Haven’s Drop. The people inside looked at him with a mix of fear and thanks. They were dirty, hungry, and scared. Children cried in small tents made of old blankets. The smell of cheap soup boiled over open fires. This was the last safe place, but it felt like a prison.

Elijah walked past the main fire and went to a dark, quiet alley behind the water tanks. No one came back here. It was his private spot.

He dropped his heavy bag of spikes on the ground. He leaned against the cool brick wall and slid down until he was sitting in the dirt. He closed his eyes and tried to calm his breathing.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

His heart was beating too fast.

The cold feeling in his left arm grew stronger. It was not a normal pain. It felt like thousands of tiny, freezing bugs were crawling just under his skin.

Elijah’s eyes snapped open. Panic hit him like a physical blow. His hands started to shake.

"No," he whispered into the empty alley. "No, please. Not yet."

He reached for the buckles on his left arm guard. His fingers were clumsy, but he finally unfastened the thick leather. He pulled off his glove. He slowly rolled up the sleeve of his gray shirt.

The skin on his forearm was pale. But running all the way from his wrist, up past his elbow, were pitch-black lines. They looked like the roots of a dark, poisonous tree growing under his flesh.

The Ever-Blight.

Elijah stared at his arm in horror. He touched the black veins. His skin felt freezing cold to the touch. The sickness was inside him.

He closed his eyes, remembering the fight. The giant Hollow had hit him. When he rolled away, his arm had scraped against a sharp piece of broken metal on the ground. The metal must have been covered in the Hollow’s infected blood. It only took one tiny cut. One drop of blood mixed with his own.

That was the cruelest part of the disease. It was not just a bite. If their blood touched an open wound, you were doomed.

Elijah felt a tear slide down his dirty cheek. He was going to turn. Within a few days, his heart would slow down. His skin would rot. His mind would break into pieces, leaving behind only rage and hunger. He would become a Hollow. He would become a monster like Arthur.

He quickly rolled his sleeve back down. He put his leather armor back on. If anyone saw the black veins, they would kill him. Or worse, they would throw him outside the walls to wander the Deadlands forever.

He sat there in the dark, wondering what to do. Should he run away right now? Should he tie himself to a chair and ask Marcus to pin him to the floor before he turned? He had seen what the Blight did to people. It was a slow, agonizing slide into madness.

"The shadows cannot hide the truth, Elijah," a soft, raspy voice spoke from the entrance of the alley.

Elijah froze. He looked up.

Standing in the dim light was Mother Vanya. She was the camp’s Oracle. She was an old woman who wore tattered white clothes. Her eyes were completely white, clouded by blindness. But Mother Vanya did not need eyes to see. She felt the world through energy. She could smell sickness. She could feel fear.

Behind her stood Marcus and four other guards. They held their swords tightly. They looked very nervous.

"Mother Vanya," Elijah said, forcing his voice to sound steady. He stayed sitting on the ground. "What do you want? I am just resting."

The old woman stepped forward. She leaned on her crooked wooden staff. She tilted her head, taking a deep breath through her nose.

"I smell the rot," she said simply. Her voice was loud enough for the guards to hear. "I smell the black blood. It is sweet and sick. It comes from you."

"I am covered in their blood," Elijah argued. He pointed to his dirty clothes. "I was fighting outside the gates all day. Of course I smell like them."

Mother Vanya shook her head. "The blood on your clothes is dead. The blood inside your veins is changing. It is alive with the Blight. Do not lie to me, boy. Show me your left arm."

Elijah’s heart pounded against his ribs. He looked at Marcus. Marcus looked back with sad, tired eyes.

"Just show her the arm, Elijah," Marcus said. His voice cracked a little. "Prove her wrong. Please."

Elijah looked at the four guards. They were shifting their weight, raising their swords just an inch higher. They were ready to fight him. He was faster and stronger than all of them, but what was the point? If he fought them, he would hurt his friends. He had spent the last two years protecting these people. He could not kill them now.

Slowly, Elijah stood up. He did not reach for his sword. He held his hands out where everyone could see them.

He pulled up his left sleeve.

The guards gasped. One of them took a step back, dropping his torch.

The black veins had already grown. In just a few minutes, they had crawled past his elbow and were reaching toward his shoulder. The sickness was moving unusually fast.

"By the Gods," Marcus whispered. He looked like he was going to throw up. "Elijah... how?"

"A cut," Elijah answered softly. He dropped his sleeve. He felt totally empty. All the fighting, all the surviving, and it ended because of a single scratch from a rusty piece of metal. "During the breach. I didn't even feel it happen."

Mother Vanya banged her wooden staff against the ground. The sharp sound echoed off the brick walls.

"The law of Haven’s Drop is absolute," the Oracle said, her voice hard and cold. "The infected cannot stay within the walls. If you turn while inside the camp, you will infect us all. You must leave. Immediately."

"Vanya, it's nighttime," Marcus argued, stepping forward. "The Deadlands are swarming with Hollows. If we send him out now, he won't last an hour. Let him stay in the iron cage until morning."