POV: Drake (Earth)
The prison gate slammed shut behind Kai Drake, and his father's arms wrapped around him before he could brace for it. He flinched hard, body locking up, knowing not to retaliate, but unsure what to do. The hug felt constricting and threatened to engulf him.
“Dad!”
His father let go immediately. Both men were breathing raggedly. His father’s eyes misted over and he helplessly raised one arm halfway to reach out. Drake had never seen the man cry before. He opened his mouth to say something but no words formed.
His father nodded. “Don’t worry, son. Let’s get you home.”
“Yeah.” Home.
Before he entered jail, the world was quite small, just his family, friends, and career.
Now it was too big and too close. Cars honked. Ambulance sirens screamed. A truck spread sand on the ground for the coming snowfall.
“Radio?” his father asked quietly.
“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” Drake snapped with steel in his voice.
Silence from his father. Drake’s breathing slowed down.
“You were just asking a question, weren’t you?” Drake realized solemnly. “You weren’t accusing me of being weak.”
“Son,” his father said, wiping his eyes. “You’re the strongest man I know.”
Drake looked away from his father and stared out the passenger window. After a long time, he said, “Dad? I’m not going to be able to keep it together in front of Ethan and Lily.”
His father didn’t respond. Drake took a deep breath. His father wasn’t ignoring him or making fun of him, he was just choosing his words carefully. Drake had to remind himself of that.
“Ethan and Lily love you. They’re your kids.”
“Lily might, she likes talking to me. Not Ethan, he hates my guts.”
Lily was a joyful chatterbox who still called him ‘daddy’. Ethan was the opposite. His last phone call with Ethan went poorly, more than usual. What was worse, his son had been right?
- - -
“I can’t wait to see you, Eth. Seven years. It’s been a while.” Drake had tried to keep his voice light.
“Yes, that’s what happens when you don’t get time off for good behavior.”
“We’ve talked about this-”
“I looked it up. Do you know how easy it is to earn that? You could have been home two years ago!”
“Ethan-”
“Yeah, Kai? What is it?”
Ethan wasn’t calling him ‘Dad’ anymore.
Drake took the punishment from his son like a bitch. He had a hard time blaming Ethan. The boy had seen him break a man’s leg with a laptop.
- - -
Drake and his father were quiet for almost the rest of the long drive back. The car was stifling. Drake tried not to fidget. It wasn’t going to work. He couldn't sit at his parents’ home and wait. He needed to get away. Time to be alone and get used to the unexpected noises of the forest and hills.
Drake broke the silence, “I’ll be camping before the kids get here. I’ll be taking the sword and the gun.”
His dad was quiet. The sword was legal for Drake to have in the woods, sort of. The gun was off-limits to Drake for a while. Though he’d be alone out there. No harm, no foul.
“Dad, I spent seven years for a crime that was pretty much a setup. Society owes me seven years' worth of criminal behavior. Minimum.”
His dad chuckled. “I’m not sure it works that way son, but I won’t stand in your way. I’d want protection if I were out there by myself too. Just… two days, Kai. Give it two days. Practice with the sword and pistol. That will barely be enough time to get your aim back at least to below-average.”
“Oh, yeah?!”
“Son, if you’re going to break the law, at least do a good job of it.”
They were back to silence for another ten minutes. All his father was trying to do was help.
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“Thanks, Dad.”
When they got to the cabin, his mother fussed over him, but only briefly.
“Your father and I know you need space. We’ll give you as much as you need, but we want to be as close as we can.”
Everyone should have a mom like his.
- - -
Drake settled in and gave his father the two days. The old man was right, the sword came back to him quickly. He had been able to practice empty-handed forms and katas in prison. His aim with the Glock 19 was crap. Skill was returning slowly. Very slowly.
He couldn’t sleep in the house. His dad used the bathroom in the middle of the night and Drake woke up screaming. The small barn in the back was freezing and falling apart, but he felt safer there.
- - -
Two days later, he was ready to go. Drake planned to be gone for about a week and a half. If he wasn’t at the cabin when the kids got dropped off on Christmas Eve, his ex-wife was allowed to turn around and take them away. He wanted nothing to go wrong, so he gave himself a lot of leeway to make sure that even if he got lost, he could ditch the gun and radio for help to make it back.
He kissed his mother on the cheek, put sunglasses on underneath the coat’s hood, and headed out into the forests and hills. The snow crunched under his feet. The air felt clean with a hint of moist December snowfall tickling skin still marked with ‘prison pallor’.
The mountains would be a little too ambitious, but there was a cliff he wanted to go to; it wasn’t far.
- - -
POV: Mio (Tenka)
Many had called her beautiful. Everyone called her accomplished. Her hair was brown, waist-length,
and loose with two beaded braids framing her face, hanging down to her collarbone. She wore a simple dark blue tunic with sleek black pants and boots. The heroes they’d summoned before from Earth had a notorious pragmatic streak. Adornments would not impress them.
Mio had studied what Earth history they knew of and the cultures and languages it hosted. She knew more about Earth than she did about her own world, Tenka. A claim that required great discipline and some talent. After two thousand years of war with demons, Earth’s records were frankly superior.
She knew her native language was similar to Japanese and the Tenka people were European in appearance and perhaps mannerisms. That knowledge would be one of many bridges for understanding if the hero asked her questions such as, “How come all human life on Tenka can fit on one archipelago?”
The room where the summoning ritual would take place was large. The wizards assembled would be giving up a portion of their life energy to bring the hero over. They were joking amongst themselves. The ritual was complex, demanding the best, and their confidence was in full display. One of the scamps was even drinking tea!
It was up to her to find a hero’s soul that resonated and would be responsive. It required a great deal of training and magical power to find a soul across the universes.
Her target must be willing to fight, have the skills to fight, and could take a small team to intercept a threat that had plagued Tenka for thousands of years. There had never been an established pattern for when the attacks emerged. A few times per century, forty-five years had passed in this case.
They never had more than a day’s notice. Not enough time to mobilize an army, but enough for a small group of powerful people to collapse the main invasion force. They just needed time to form their defense. That’s all Tenka needed from Earth.
Mio nodded to the two other women who would be joining her. An unstable pair, but both were powerful.
Sayaka, an elven assassin who had been fighting demon warriors for six hundred years. Her blonde hair worn in two knee-length twin tails tied off at each end. She wore leather armor of dull brown and muted green, her body in a casual stance, her eyes alert to danger.
If they met Sayaka, the second thing any Earth psychologists would do is diagnose her with severe PTSD; the first thing would be to run away. The assassin had been mired in violence for centuries. The last elven Queendom did not allow for retirement, their warriors were pushed beyond their limits. Sayaka was no exception and she looked… bored.
The other was Runa, an invoker. Known as the ‘Mad Sorceress of the Broken Tower’; dark curly hair worn loose, her dress had never been in style in any time or place except bordellos, and her boots were impractical. A belt was the only nod to decency and seriousness, a thick, sturdy thing with small pouches of mystical reagents. Runa was being sent with the team as a punishment for various acts of magical devastation. There were not many humans left and the few that remained would be happy to learn that Runa had died in service.
For her part, Runa was vocal about her priorities. She shouted to Mio, “Get a good-looking one! Make sure he’s tall!”
Mio ignored that while checking in with the trans-dimensional thaumaturgist leading the ritual. He was a talented, middle-aged man who smelled pleasantly of incense. He nodded, acknowledging her ability and importance in this task.
As was tradition for this arcane ceremony, there were no speeches. Mio started when everyone was prepared.
The chair was comfortable and big. In front of her was lowered a broad curved sheet of black obsidian, which filled her vision. She ran her fingers over the beads in her braids, looked at her reflection in the smooth black surface, and gave herself an encouraging smile.
“I’m ready!” Mio called out.
The wizards began, they chanted, performed movements long memorized with perfect skill. Their knowledge gives shape to their will. The lead thaumaturgist pricked his finger and a single drop of blood fell into the circle.
Immediately the black glass blossomed into pure light. So many people!
“Earthling population rose again! Billions!” Yelled a ritualist. “Apply first filter!”
No change. Mio was still blinded by the bright light of an incomprehensible number of souls.
“Do the next two filters! No! Three!” Yelled the trans-dimensional thaumaturgist.
“Three?!” Squeaked another. “Yes sir!”
Mio’s vision returned to normal. She now only had thousands of candidates. Still too many to evaluate with the time they had, she could feel magical energy siphoning off her and flowing into the obsidian.
“One more filter!” Mio called to the ritualists. “Apply for-“
“Hotness!” interrupted Runa.
“-Determination!” Finished Mio. They didn’t have much time. Every second spent pulled life from the brave men and women performing the ritual. Her own magic was draining too, she couldn’t let people down.
There were hundreds left. She had to act fast. There was a bright one! Very bright! Fuzzy though.
“Did you check for attachments?” Mio yelled.
“That was the first one! Hurry! We’re about to lose one of our men! Where the hell does Earth get all these people?!”
The vague, almost non-existent attachment that would cause the fuzzy reading was probably because the hero had a dog. A human attachment would have dispersed the reading entirely. Sorry, puppers. Tenka needs your master more than you.
“I got him!” She yelled. “Use this one!”
The trans-dimensional thaumaturgist cut his arm with an engraved knife and a second drop of his blood fell on the intricate circle engraved on the floor. A deep violet light flared into life. The flare didn’t burn with heat, it was bitterly cold. Air from the room was sucked into the center of the magic circle, drawn by an arcane equilibrium that required balance.
Mio had done it. Earth’s hero, a man who would likely claim her as a lover, had been selected across the infinite membranes between universes. A champion of righteousness to save them in their darkest hour. She was eager to meet him.
- - -
POV: Drake (Earth)
He had made it to a small cliff with a spectacular view of the valley below. Trees, homes, and a few farms. He could see his old high school. He admired the scene briefly and began what he had come to do on this first part of the journey.
He put his thick gloves in his pockets. Then he unzipped the coat, exposing himself to single-digit temperatures. The cold stung his hands, but this job wouldn’t take long.
Drake removed the cross hanging around his neck and stared at it for a moment.
“You left me,” he said to the cross. “You abandoned me. I could live with my career destroyed. I know I had pride. But my children? I'm a stranger to my children. You took my son from me. Why should I listen to yours? Payback is gonna be a bitch. Fuck off and don’t come back.”
Drake clenched the cross tightly in hand, almost as if to crush it. Then he leaned back to throw it off the edge.
- - -
POV: Mio (Tenka)
“We got his soul signature!” Yelled a ritualist.
“Pull him! Pull him now!” Screamed the trans-dimensional thaumaturgist as his arm withered.
- - -
POV: Drake (Earth)
He hadn’t finished throwing the cross when a deep violet light descended from the sky instantly and surrounded Drake. He didn’t have time to register what was happening.
Then he was gone.
