Kat keeps her rifle on the leader. I can tell she’s deep in thought. “What do we do?” My voice cracks, and she licks her lip, nervous.
There are two triads at the front gates. The three men at the front are big beasts. The leader—I can just tell he’s the leader, by the way he walks, the way he stands—must be over seven feet tall. He’s brutally handsome, with fierce slate-grey eyes that seem to glow. His skin is pure white, like marble stone, and it contrasts against the evil black robes that mark him as a Follower of Obsidian, the Aurelians who broke off from the Aurelian Empire not to protect humanity, but toownthem.
I don’t know much about Aurelians. Mostly whispers and rumors. I’ve only seen them once in my life, a triad that was nothing compared to the brutes standing in front of the gates.
He’s got the mark of Obsidian, the twin half-circle brand of raised, burnt flesh over his heart. Each half is filled in with black ink. He steps to the gates, sheathing the hilt of his Orb-Blade in a movement that looks like it’s been done thousands of times, deactivating it just as he puts it in his belt. He has grizzled, black-grey stubble framing his powerful jaw. He’s lived hundreds of years of violence.
Gods. It can’t be him. It can’t be. The men in my vision… I pushed their images out of my mind, telling myself I was going crazy.
I shake my head, but I swear I saw the triad in these very walls, for an endless moment where I felt their being washing over me in a possessive wave.
The leader grabs the iron portcullis gates. His forearms flex. Each bar of the gate must be as wide around as my forearm. The veins of his biceps contort, pressing against his pale skin, and he grits his teeth in exertion. With a creaking groan, the bars bend, and he forces his way into the courtyard past the resistance of the walls.
His triad follows him. The one on his right is just as tall as him, but broader, with a shaved head and a thick, long beard that goes down to his brand. Standing, I’d barely come up to his belly button. He must be three, four times heavier than me, a huge hulking beast of a man covered in muscles and emanating power.
The third, who ducks under the twisted bars and stands on the leader’s left, is gorgeous. There’s no other way to describe him. He has fine, royal features, with a contemptuous, cunning edge to his gaze, a gaze that finds me as the triad of Aurelians looks up simultaneously, like they share one mind.
My rifle is trained towards them, but they ignore it, as if it’s a toy in my hands. I know there’s another triad of Aurelians behind them, but I can’t see them. I can’t see the walls, the courtyard, or the smoke-filled sky.
All I can see is them as they lock their gazes on me, trapping me in their sight, as if they can control me with their eyes alone.
“Tattooed.” Kat spits the word out with scorn. It brings me back to sanity. “With double honors. See how both sides of the brand are filled in? They don’t just serve the War-God. These three are his elite soldiers. Drop your weapon, slowly. We fire at them, everyone in this manor will be executed.”
I put the rifle down by my feet and breathe out a sigh of relief. I’m glad to be rid of it. My hands ache. They were clutching onto the rifle with a white-knuckled grip.
“What happens now?” I know they can’t hear us from all the way down in the courtyard, but I speak in a hushed voice. I heard a rumor once that Aurelians could hear you from a hundred feet away…
No. The rumor was they can smell your emotions from a hundred feet away.
Especially lust.
Behind the three Aurelians is the second triad. I can finally wrench my gaze away to look at them. They only have the bottom half of their brand tattooed, but I shudder with disgust when I see the second, duplicate set of tattoos, directly on their foreheads. It just lookswrong.
“Those three are true believers. If Obsidian or their Priests said to jump off a cliff, they’d do it instantly. Watch for them. If we’re going to survive on a Fanatic-controlled world, we need to stay as far away from the ones with brands on their foreheads as possible.”
I didn’t think far enough in the future to contemplate being alive on a world controlled by Aurelians following the Old Ways. I was so certain that this estate would be my tomb, I’m still not sure what to believe.
Kat keeps her composure despite everything. She leans out through the window, getting their attention. “Aurelians! There’s at least two Scorp in the palace! They’ll be attacking the cellars, down the main doorway, to the left, down the winding stairs!”
The leader of the Aurelians cocks his head, a minute movement that sends the second triad sprinting forward without him even saying a word. They cover the ground from the wall to the estate in seconds, drawing their blades and shouldering their way into the estate with suicidal bravery.
I know they’ll dispatch the Scorp—they just killed a hundred without injury—but it terrifies me to know that those three beasts are in the estate with me. The brands on their foreheads make me uncomfortable in a way the other triad from my vision does not.
The handsome Aurelian, with the patrician features, glances over at the garden. From my vantage point, I can see a few glimpses of color behind the thick leaves of the maple tree that grew tall during my nine years here. He and the leader go to the beautifully constructed bright white gates. The leader kicks them down with a mighty blow, and walks over the crumpled pieces, entering the garden.
The biggest one, with the shaved head, looks up at me, licking his lips. I stare down at him, until I can see only the top of his stubbly head as he roughly shoulders the doors to our tower open and goes through.
The moment he enters the tower, I shiver. We fought to keep it impregnable, the last line of defence, and the Aurelian enters without a second thought, as if it belongs to him, as if the world is his. The alien warrior’s big, booted feet echo as he stomps up the stairs.
“Step away from the weapon. Just do what he says.” There’s a nervous tension to Kat’s words.
I nod, gulping, and step up to the middle of the room. “What’s going to happen to us?” I ask, terrified of the answer.
“If I’m right, and Gods, I hope I’m right, he won’t touch either of us.”
“Why?”
I’ve heard a hundred different rumors about Aurelians, but there’s one constant.