Guardians of the Dark

The day the General found Samael, shook him to the core. The day he abandoned him, however, took said core and twisted it, shredded it, so it couldn’t be restored. An innocent boy, barely four years of age. But he wasn’t just a boy. The Dark had turned his skin blue and made his teeth razor sharp. It had sucked out his conscience and made him hungry for destruction, for death. The Dark had made him a monster, a Corrupted.

And the Corrupted weren’t tolerated in the Metropolis of Light.

General Bentley Traynor expelled a deep breath. It fogged up his helmet, so he chose to hold it instead. He looked frantically about the expanse of sand, barely able to see anything in the Dark. But it wasn’t about what he saw. It was about what he heard. Roamers. Their growls were closing in, rumbling all around him.

Mindless creatures, they were.

Even worse than the Corrupted.

“Where are we going, Dada?” asked Samael. He had no insolation suit on, nothing to protect him, to shield him from the noxious air. He didn’t need it, as it was four years too late for that. “Where’s Kasen and Mama?”

“On their way.”

They weren’t, but Samael couldn’t know that. Just like they, his family, couldn’t know about this, his plan. But it had to be done. Samael was becoming more and more violent each day, more and more reckless. Just yesterday, he had lacerated his wife’s palm when she tried to discipline him. And he had laughed about it.

The General huffed. Yes. This was the right thing to do. And, if not the right thing, it was the best thing to do.

The best for the city.

The best for his wife.

The best for his son, Kasen.

“This is far enough,” he said and stopped. The Metropolis of lay light behind them, its luminosity futile against the Dark – the mysterious fog that had swept across the earth some hundred years ago, and had torn humanity apart from the inside out. He crouched and held Samael by the shoulders, barely meeting his black, beading eyes.

“Dada, I’m scared. Where are we?” Samael repeated, his bottom lip quivering now. A Roamer growled beyond the closest sand dune and he winced, tiny whimpers emerging from his mouth. His breathing quickened.

“You’re a brave boy, right?” asked the General, and Samael nodded. “And you’ll stay here while I go get Kasen and Mama?”

Another nod.

Another growl beyond the dune.

The General rose and started to reverse. “Stay here,” he repeated, “promise me, Samael, you’ll stay right here?”

“Y – You’ll come back, right, Dada?” The boy – the Corrupted – made to give a step forward, but he showed his hand at him and he stilled in his tracks. Tears tumbled across his cheeks now, his chest pumping up and down.

“I’ll be back,” the General promised, “just stay put.” Then, he turned and sped up into a jog, the rattling of his insolation suit drowning out Samael’s final call – his final enquiry as to whether he’ll return for him.

“See you in a bit,” he replied.

But he never did go back.