The line didn't budge, it didn't need to. The brothers had seen many people fixed to their feet, like pillars. As they stood under the neon hum of the slums, herds of drones flocked towards the men and women like crows - scrutinizing each individual with large eyes that radiated and blared out sounds. They moved through the lines
DING - Maggie Thompson
DING - Robert Kawaki
BEEP - Germain Rand
DING - Sylvester Maine
Guardsmen would direct the accepted individuals into a new line. Each person walked and held many different faces. Some dead, some desperate and some battered.
Archie was scared of the drone, he wrapped his arms around Crowe and secured his grip. His eyes were closed shut.
"You're gonna be fine"
Crowe said as he patted Archie's soft brown hair. They waited as small dings and beeps increase in sound and approach them. Finally it was time to see if they were 'worthy'. The drones slowly gravitated towards the boys and in one silent moment.
DING - Crowe Messmer
DING - Archie Messmer
One guard had noticed the prestigious young boys.
"MESSMER! I thought u lot were dead in the banquet"
Crowe's heart stiffened, he didn't think word would travel as fast as their legs would run.
He couldn't move.
He wouldn't move.
Archie pushes Crowe's shoulders, waking him up from his fears. The young Archie blurted.
"Please we still wanna be wielders, give us this chance!"
His voice cracked. It was clear to everyone that Archie had never spoken with such conviction and fear.
"Please!"
His voice weakened but was clearer.
The guards received a call on the terminal. They looked at Archie, then at Crowe. The guards nodded as if speaking to a superior.
"LET HIM THROUGH"
One guard signaled the others and they pulled a large metal lever
THUD
A giant metal wall dropped, and the brothers were escorted into a large hallway. Crowe grasped Archie's hand, his own trembled .
Each step felt heavier than the last, large hums of blue light lit up in intervals as they took steps. Crowe could hear Archie's breathe came in smaller gasps. His gaze fixed on the large gray metal floors.
"So… the children of the great Messmers survive eh, and they come to here not to beg for their lives but to forge them"
The voice came from the corner of the now-lit hallways. Footsteps inch slowly to the brothers. And a man appears, his eyes sharp and his beard pale.
"Hello there, My name is Director Gehrman. Welcome to Beauclaire Corp. You've stepped into history."
The brothers nodded with resolve, they proved it with their faces. Director Gehrman - impressed by their determination - could only reply in kind.
He guided the two brothers into a bright white room bathed in ethereal light. Its brightness served as stark contrast to the hallways they were in. The brothers exchanged uneasy eyes as Gehrman ushers them towards the room.
They took weak steps, portraying their inner doubt. Nested on the center, elevated from a small platform, stood a white pristine chair. The director, lightly nudged them in, only guiding them with one point of his finger stretching to a board.
It was of a diagram of the elements:
— Jando of Fire
— Seena of Water
— Gandayo of Earth
— Tosko of Nature
— Porel of Divinity
The door behind them closed and the brother's gaze aimed at the room.
Rested next to the chair was a surgeon with droopy eyes, his face was sunken from overwork.
The door behind the boys hissed shut. Leaving them along with the man in scrubs.
He exhaled a tired voice.
"One of you, I don't care who."
"Sit."
Crowe took it upon himself to take the first strides, his determination invigorated little Archie. The chair waited as Crowe sat on it, resting his tired head on the chair. The doctor's tired eyes slowly lifted towards Crowe.
"It won't hurt much"
Crowe closes his eyes. The surgeon reached for his tools, metals clashed. And he grabbed his tool.
A chisel.
Dyed with a sparkling white paint on its tip. The liquid - it shimmered unnaturally- alive somehow.
Crowe, from fear or curiosity, was compelled to it. He had to ask.
"What's that white ink for?"
The doctor expelled a lethargic sigh.
"This is Azo, it's for magic"
The doctor tiredly dipped his chisel into Crowe's heart.
Flesh met steel.
Not like cut.
Not like ink.
The Azo burned it's way in. It cared not for Crowe's heart. Crowe's spine arched in pain, he grit his teeth. The ink dove deep. It felt like something primal gnawed it'a way into his skin.
The doctor proceeded - etching a circle with glyphs around Crowe's heart. Symbols that moved on its own, as if it was alive. The ink did not wait for Crowe, it hastily ate skin, almost as if it was taking space.
The doctor finished the circle, the ink was not done eating.
Pain bloomed.
Crowe bit his lips. So did Archie .
He couldn't scream; not with Archie looking.
Not with his new path dawning on him.
Tears flowed down Archie's.
Tears flowed down Crowe's.
Archie held his own hands, he could only pray for his brother's safety. His feet trembled. Archie muttered to himself.
"I.. I can't let him do this anymore"
But all Archie could do was pray. He prayed to himself for his brother.
Save Crowe, please save Crowe.
Archie was only a child.
As the ink grew, so too did the pain. Crowe succumbed to the pain, his eyes shut. His body wouldn't let him continue, it wouldn't.
As his tired body began to rest.
CLANK
The ceiling snapped open. A massive chrome arm descended, it hissed with pressure releasing - tubes tied to it pulled and released the arm. Not graceful. Not elegant.
Archie shouted.
"NO!"
The arm, unaware of Archie's pleads. Hovered above Crowe, sensors flickered as it's cold metal fingers lifted Crowe.
And just like that, in a hiss of steam, Crowe Messmer left the room - leaving behind only silence. And a crying boy in a white room.