Chapter 29 Mask

"This…isn't right…"

Tears formed under the eyes of a young woman as she looked down at the apathetic child before her. Her own visage was torn between sorrow and anger as she turned to face the blond man beside her.

"Something has to be wrong with him, Aldis!" she hissed, still keeping her voice down, though she wasn't careful enough to keep the others present from hearing. Blinking away the forming tears, she choked out, "This child…our…child. He isn't normal."

The child in question didn't flinch at the accusation, though he didn't miss a word. He looked between the stern face of his father and the furious, disgusted face of his mother before turning to his older brother, who looked at him with concern. In a back corner, his older sister rolled her eyes and scoffed before turning back to the book she was reading.

He took all of this in stride. This hadn't been the first time the woman he called mother treated him with such revulsion, and he knew it wouldn't be the last. Even after so many of these discussions, he still struggled to see where he'd gone wrong…not that he was especially concerned.

Among his siblings, he was unique. His older brother was kind and caring…or at least appeared to be, though the boy knew better. His sister was arrogant, pushy, and exceptionally driven when the subject interested her. They were all three incredibly bright, but him…

"Even now! Look at him!" Margeret raised her voice and pointed at the boy, no longer caring who heard. "Even standing there being admonished, he looks at us with those same dead eyes. If you don't do something about this, Aldis, I will!"

That was how the boy differed from his brother and sister…and anyone else he'd met. As a babe, he didn't cry. Nor as a toddler. And even at seven years old, he hadn't changed. No matter the situation, his face remained cold and distant, as did his mind.

Even at this age, he knew this was a problem for his mother, but he couldn't force himself to change. He didn't understand why his being as he was…was such a problem. They never seemed to understand his reasoning, as he never understood theirs. Their existence was meaningless to him, as was his to them.

"Mother, please…lower your voice." Jason, the boy's older brother, spoke calmly. "He's never going to understand through your constant belittling. Take the time to train him. You'll find he's competent, even if he doesn't think the way we do."

As the trio talked, he looked around the high-ceilinged room. The dark wood floors contrasted greatly with the off-white walls, though the trim tied the two together nicely. Purple Circuits traced their way around the room, powering the gold-plated chandelier and lamps, which cast their light upon the many portraits and statuettes adorning the walls.

He didn't understand any of this, particularly the white furniture with patterned rose petals sewn into the cushions. He may have been young, but he still understood the expense that went into the room. All of this, his mother said, was to improve their standing…but it was all a sham.

The chandelier and lamps were simply painted to appear gold, while the furniture was reupholstered from some older worn-down couches she'd bought from a second-hand shop. Even the statues and paintings were cheap items she'd purchased from peddlers on the street.

"Oh? And you know best, do you?" Margeret practically shouted at her eldest son. "This is the second time he's killed one of the family hounds! And don't even mention what he did to the cat. News travels fast in this heap of a town. By now, half of the High Society will have heard about this. All of your father's hard work will be for naught at this point!"

"Calm down, Margeret." Aldis finally spoke, his naturally stern face showing neither anger nor concern. He placed a hand gently over the woman's bulging stomach and looked her in the eye. "You know they say rage isn't good for any child."

He stared at her until she nodded, then turned to his youngest son. "Son. Why did you kill our dog this time?"

His voice wasn't filled with malice or disappointment, more a genuine curiosity. Aldis wasn't a large man. He wasn't marred by the many scars and marks of battle, and he didn't dress in overly gaudy clothes like that of his wife or superiors. Yet when he spoke, his tone was one of authority.

The boy looked his father in the eye and saw his reflection mirrored in those deep pools of black. After studying himself in those bottomless eyes, he answered flatly.

"It was being loud, Father. Mother told me to go to sleep, but Brute wouldn't stop barking." He scrunched his eyebrows. "I asked Brute to stop, but he wouldn't, and you told me not to disobey Mother. When I killed him, I went straight to bed and fell asleep, just as instructed."

His tone lacked remorse but held an honest curiosity. It was almost as if the boy didn't understand why he was in trouble when he simply did as he was told. And indeed, he couldn't comprehend their reactions.

For the boy, killing Brute was the natural thing to do. When someone was dirty, they washed away the dirt. If one were hungry, one would search for something to eat. When you left a room, you were supposed to turn out the light so as not to waste Essence. And when there was a noise keeping you awake…you silenced it.

Aldis' expression changed slightly, his curiosity showing concern for once but not anger. For his part, the boy noticed this subtle change and connected it with the visage his brother wore, though it didn't look right on his usually gruff father.

"What's wrong, Father?" The boy's tone was still bland, but his face was full of uncertainty. "Was there something wrong with my actions?"

He truly did not understand. His parents' responses were hard to fathom, and he felt that he'd committed no egregious offenses. For every action, there was a corresponding reaction…and he'd simply eliminated the source of the noise preventing him from following his given directives.

It was true that this was the third time he'd killed a creature. Was that why they were so upset? But that didn't make sense. He'd witnessed his father return home with the bodies of many beasts, boasting about how he'd slain them to provide for the family. How were the boy's actions any different?

"I…I can't do this…" The words were soft, and he barely heard them. He shifted his gaze from his father to his mother, whose back was now facing them as she walked out of the room. "I refuse to be part of this. Aldis, you do something with him before I do."

Aldis sighed and stood tall, squeezing the boy's shoulder as he did so. After looking at his youngest son for a few seconds, he turned to Jason and gestured to the door.

"I'll try to handle this," he muttered. "Jason, you look after your brother."

"Wait! Fath—" His older brother tried to reach out, but there was a loud thud, and their father was gone. Jason sighed and sauntered over to collapse tiredly on one of the white sofas speaking to the boy. "Come sit with me for a minute."

After a few moments of silence, Jason asked, "Why did you do it?"

"Bec—"

"Don't give me the same answer as you gave Father." Jason shook his head. "I know that what you told Father was the truth. What I'm asking is why you didn't think of the responses your actions would cause first. You're smart enough to have done that."

The boy looked up at his older brother, wondering why he was saying this. What good would it do to answer? Not that he had any additional answer in the first place.

"I want to help you," Jason said after looking around, likely trying to find their sister, who the boy had seen creep out of the room before Mother left. "You're pragmatic. You have little emotion, and because of this, you don't view the world as others do."

The boy looked toward one of the nearby portraits. It depicted a powerful man fighting a giant beast. A massive spear ruptured the creature's gut, and crimson liquid poured from the wound. The boy wasn't attracted to the scene, but that color…

"Do you think I should change?" he asked, not looking away from the shimmering, dark-red paint on the portrait. He could feel his brother's gaze bearing down on him. After a moment, he peeled his eyes away from the painting and turned to find his brother shaking his head.

"No. You don't need to change." Jason smiled sadly and put his hand on the boy's shoulder. "You're different, yes, but that isn't always bad. In fact, you may become one of the best Wielders in the Tower simply because of your differences."

The young man looked thoughtful for a moment before continuing, "You just need to learn to blend in. I'm not saying you have to change your beliefs or even hide who you are, but all of us…myself, Mother, Father…every person in existence, for that matter. We all put on a front to appease others. We do things we don't like to make others comfortable or to become successful…"

Trailing off, Jason looked over the boy again, waiting for a nod or some semblance of understanding. As quiet and inexpressive as his little brother was, he'd almost forgotten that he was talking to someone scarcely old enough to join the Academy. Eventually, the boy nodded, so he continued.

"I suggest that you observe others more carefully. Not just watch them, but study them. See how your peers react to certain situations and how people of different ages react to those same situations. Of course, I don't expect you to understand their feelings, but you are intelligent enough to piece together what makes people tick…" Jason rubbed his chin. "You should certainly spend more time around others and not hidden within these walls. I can help with that as long as you're willing to accept it. Maybe we can scrounge up a few Cards that will help you out. What do you think?"

The boy looked away, his eyes wandering back to the brave warrior slaying the gigantic beast. Rather than focusing on the crimson trail of liquid, he focused on the mask the character wore. Every time Mother and Father hosted one of their get-togethers, they and their guests would wear masks. Though he hadn't been outside often, he also noticed that most individuals walking the street wore them as well, hiding their expressions from the world.

"So…I should wear a mask?" the boy asked, turning to Jason, studying his brother's reaction as suggested. It wasn't a waste of time, as Jason smiled. That meant he was happy with the boy's question, right?

"In a sense, yes." Jason nodded and explained further. "Though I don't agree with everything Mother and Father do, if I were to show my displeasure openly, it's likely that I would get a smack for my boldness. So, I smile and nod, even if I'm not content."

"I see…" The boy's lips twitched, and he forced himself to smile…awkwardly. Jason almost laughed but kept his composure to avoid disparaging his brother's attempt.

"It will be a hard road, but I'm here for you." Jason placed his hand gently on the boy's head, tussling his hair. He sighed when the boy kept the stiff smile rather than frowning or squirming away. This wouldn't be a quick lesson. "This will be better for you in the long run. Do you understand…Zachary?"

Zachary's expression shifted back to that of indifference, and he placed his hand to his chin as Jason had done, showing that he was thinking. After a brief moment, he nodded.

"Yes…I think I understand."

***

Zachary looked on in wonder. The reflections of faint orange and red lights dancing in his eyes grew brighter every second. A pungent, acrid odor invaded the space around him, but he didn't move. The crackling wood and the roar of the heat in the air formed a symphony in his ear, and he didn't want it to end.

A wave of heat washed over him, and he could feel something warm and wet trickling down his cheek. It irritated him. His own body dared to ruin this moment, but he didn't move, even as the heat caused more tears to form.

"Beautiful…" His long, blond hair buffeted his face as another hot burst reached out. Zachary envisioned the portrait he'd studied those few years ago. The crimson river came to his mind as the dark red flame licked out to grab him.

"Zachary!" A faint call sounded somewhere behind him, almost drowned by the roar of the blaze. His eye twitched, a hint of irritation creeping forth as the moment was ruined. The flames licked toward him again, his pores stinging from the heat, but he stood still, trying to recover the lost feeling.

"Zachary!"

The voice was louder this time, and Zachary sighed as the sensation vanished. A fit of coughing racked him from the deep breath, and he turned to face the voice he could hear closing in.

"Zachary!" Jason crashed through a partially collapsed wall and rushed toward him, his pale face tinged with an apprehension bordering fear. "Zachary, get a hold of yourself! The roof can collapse at any second. We need to leave!"

Jason grabbed Zachary's wrist and pulled him away from the now-raging inferno. Even if he wanted, Zachary wouldn't be able to fight his brother's strength, so he followed along as they made their way out of the collapsing building. Once they were far out in the yard, Jason let go and collapsed to his knees, retching the contents of his stomach onto the cold ground.

Zachary turned back to his childhood home as another beam collapsed, taking a large section of the roof with it. Even this far out, the crackle of flames reached his ears, and he could feel small waves of heat washing over him. It was even more beautiful than before, the bright light of the conflagration contrasting remarkably against the darkened night sky.

"Are…you okay?" He felt a hand on his shoulder and turned back to look at his brother, who was wiping his mouth with his other sleeve. Zachary thought to take stock of himself and noticed that his skin was charred in many places and most of his hair was missing. His clothing, too, had hardly survived.

He nodded in response and studied his brother's features, trying to gauge his reactions and understand his feelings. Jason's face was twisted in agony, tears streaming down his reddened face. His shoulders shivered violently, and Zachary could feel his fingers clenching and unclenching on his shoulder.

"Camilla…" his brother whispered, another shiver running through his body as he fell to his knees again. Jason's eyes strayed slowly back to the fire. "Camilla is… I… I didn't…make it in time. Damn it."

Jason pounded the ground, the impact so strong that Zachary could feel it reverberate through his boots and up to his thighs. As he listened to his brother muttering the girl's name, he looked back to blaze, picturing his baby sister, who he'd last seen asleep in her cradle. For the second time that evening, he felt something wet sliding down his cheek.

"How? How could this have happened? Why did this have to happen while Mother and Father were away? Wh…what am I supposed to tell them?" Jason slowly stood, shuffling over to Zachary's side. "I tried… It came too fast… I didn't have time to… I'm sorry. I'm so sorry…"

Zachary felt his cheeks cool further as more moisture collected on them, brought on by the surges of heat drying his eyes. He watched his brother, whose face was twisted in sorrow and rage, both of which were very unbefitting of his character. As he looked on, the words his brother had told him those years ago played in his mind.

I suggest that you observe others more carefully. Not just watch them, but study them. See how your peers react to certain situations and how people of different ages react to those same situations. Of course, I don't expect you to understand their feelings, but you are intelligent enough to piece together what makes people tick…

The words came crashing toward him as if they were being shouted from every direction. Zachary stumbled slightly. He looked back at his brother…and clenched his fists. A matching fury and sorrow showed on his usually dull visage. His body trembled, and he wailed, howling at the flames which reflected on the torrent of tears that burst forth.

"Aaaaagghhhhh!" His body trembled as he yelled to the glowing sky.

***

Zachary blinked rapidly, looking away from the burning hearth and back to the mirror beside him. Late morning light filtered in through the large stained windows of the lodge in which he was staying. The memories had come unbidden and unwelcome as he warmed himself by the fire, but they had passed, and he had places to be.

He strolled to the washroom, tossing a few Essence into the cubby by the door to power the lights and other apparatuses. Warm water soon flowed over his skin, washing away the oils he'd applied the night before. Though he had been healed quickly, the pain still lingered years after the fire.

Casting Cleanse would do away with the morning routine, but Zachary loved the warmth. He glanced at the mirror, looking over his toned figure briefly before donning the white, buttoned shirt he'd laid out the night before.

One's image was crucial in conforming to society, a lesson he'd never forgotten. Jason had spent the better part of three years with him before joining the Church of Liberation, at which point his mother sent Zachary off to the Academy, not wanting to deal with him on her own. His father was too busy pushing his way into the good graces of the High Society to even notice his absence.

He slipped into a pair of gray slacks, followed by a black vest and dark gray waistcoat. A golden timepiece hung from the inner pocket of his coat, which he opened briefly to show an image…the same one he'd stared at in the family home many years before. He snapped the piece closed and tucked it into his pocket.

Looking into the mirror, he felt that something was missing. The ensemble was admirable, but it wasn't very eye-catching. In fact, it was bland overall, and he thought it needed something more…

"Ahh… You could use a bit of color." Zachary pulled open the top drawer on a nearby dresser, retrieving from it a beautiful crimson handkerchief. It was a gorgeous piece and something he'd only recently acquired.

With careful movements, he creased it in a few places and tucked it neatly into his chest pocket before turning back to the mirror. It was a nice piece, and it had indeed been worth the hassle. His blank face shifted, showing a genuine smile as he admired how the kerchief fit with his suit.

"Perfect."

Zachary strolled outside, looking over the few people who moved about on the almost empty street. Some masked figures nodded their heads toward them as they passed, and he returned the gesture.

It was then that a lone but familiar figure across the road caught his eye. Long dark hair whipped about in the morning breeze, bright green eyes darting about. He tilted his head and watched the young woman stumble before running into a nearby alley.

"Hmm…" Zachary stared at where the girl had disappeared for a long while. He recognized the fear on her face…not just fear, but terror, not far from how his brother had looked when his mother and father returned. His interest piqued.

Curious, he glanced both ways before crossing the street, stepping into the path the girl had taken. He wondered what could cause someone such terror and what new information he could glean if he found out. It seemed coming to this city would provide more than he had bargained.

"How fascinating…"