The Souls in Sectum – Chapter VII – A Stranger’s Kindness
He remained quiet as he followed Adria through a labyrinth of streets. The woman's mind raced as she navigated through the shadows, mindful of the daylight that suggested most Dictadurians were away at work. She hoped to reach her block unnoticed with Corven in tow. If Meida's claims were true and Corven had access to alters, Adria knew she needed to earn his trust to obtain that crucial information. It could be the one chance to escape Sectum and find true freedom without facing retaliation.
Determined to get herself and her grandfather out of Dictaduria at such opportunity, Adria knew alters were forbidden by the Edictum Vitae and considered illegal in Malkuth, unheard of for decades. Yet, the prospect of wasting another moment in Sectum after learning of those genetic modifiers was unbearable to her.
"Where are we going?"
Corven uncertainty was clear, yet he acknowledge Adria's resolve.
"To my block. I have an overall that will help you return home without drawing attention," she reassured him, offering a sense of calm.
"Thank you," he responded, his gratitude genuine.
Adria was still piecing together what she knew about him, but she sensed he could be trusted. The country's layout, a complex code of alphanumeric combinations for sections, streets, and blocks, was something Adria had mastered by her second year as a Dictadurian. Corven, despite his remarkable memory, found it challenging to navigate that system daily and feared Adria might notice his poor sense of direction—a vulnerability that had led to his capture by Meida and Timor.
As they ascended through concrete block covered hills, Corven observed Adria's extreme caution, her movements reminiscent of a hunter skulking in the shadows and corners. They blended into their environment, pacing through cemented streets until reaching the edge of a valley of grey hills. After reaching the third one and climbing it, a solitary row of blocks faced the horizon, marked in a stone plate as 'S. RT3X19'. There used to be a X20-X22.
Adria was haunted by the memory of streets that once existed there, erased by a landslide weeks prior, claiming a hundred and thirty-eight lives and revealing the incompetence of Roland Copernus anew. The tragedy lingered in her nightmares, its dark shadow surfacing with every visit.
This hauntingly captivating sunset vista was born from catastrophe, instilling constant fear of another landslide among the survivors. Adria's block stood at the far end of RT3X19, deemed 'lucky' by others for narrowly escaping the disaster—a sentiment she couldn't share.
Corven recognized the road code, not far from his own. "Wait, isn't this street the one that...?"
"Yes," Adria interjected sharply, her curt response signaling the topic was off-limits. He wisely chose silence, imagining the ordeal she endured.
Adria requested a transfer for herself and Bitlan that same day, though bureaucratic delays meant an indefinite wait. The sight of the remaining blocks offered a semblance of disruption, covered by orange protection tape, despite the regime's unfulfilled, weeks old promise to construct a barrier against future landslides.
Corven caught a glimpse of Capitalia on the horizon, a beacon of hope for many Dictadurians seeking transfer to Sectum's fourth country, a step closer to reclaiming their lives under aequiteism.
As evening approached, the streets grew quieter, seemingly untouched by the recent acistorm. The setting sun cast the gray concrete blocks in a warm orange hue, a sight that captivated Corven, whose thoughts of craving cheese drifted as rain puddles mirrored the sky's changing colors.
They stopped before a block marked RT3X19-47. Corven's heart sank at its dilapidated state—cracked walls hastily mended with glue, cracked windows and holes patched with melted plastic, a stark reflection of the area's neglect.
“It’s a piece of furka, I know.”
Adria understood his reaction; their home, battered by acistorms and sporadic civil unrest, bore the marks of years of neglect, exacerbated by the regime's control over concrete distribution. The material became expensive and rare to find since the regime started regulating and controlling its distribution decades before, deviating resources to Capitalia. Given their distance from the country’s center any repairs or improvements rarely happened. She and her grandfather had improvised patches, valuing their secluded life away from the regime's scrutiny and the anonymity from Negativus’ families. Despite its flaws, it was a sanctuary where they had found a sort of peace, that, until the floors started shaking.
"Wait here," she instructed, leaving Corven taken aback by the prospect of being left outside.
She approached the metallic door, after a couple of attempts struggling with the digital lock it moved before getting stuck and provoking a forceful kick from Adria to restore its function. Once in, the door slammed shut behind her, leaving Corven alone with his thoughts.
Top of Form
He heard the metallic clicking of the door as it opened a minute later. Adria emerged, holding a long-sleeved shirt and an overall with the code WC2C4I2-32, from a block so close to the border that no one would bother to verify the wearer's identity.
She handed them to him, and his look of perplexed gratitude brought a smile to her face. "Remember what I mentioned about helping me later? Meida was torturing you because you stole some alters, right?"
Corven looked into Adria's grey eyes, realizing she had no reason to trust him, yet she had saved his life. "They can alter your identity. Once integrated into your system, you can become a different person to molecular level. It's risky, but it's a way out of Sectum. I know their location." This admission solidified the trust between them.
"Why are you telling me this?" Adria peered into his brown eyes, seeking truth.
"You saved my life. I owe you," Corven was sincere, his intentions were palpable.
Adria felt justified in her actions. "This place is cruel; people follow their own rules, lacking any real justice. I wasn’t going to turn a blind eye"
Corven's mind briefly revisited the horror of Meida's attack. Shaking off the memory, he focused on Adria's next question. "Where are the Alters?"
"I can't recall exactly," he admitted, struggling to focus.
Adria's heart sank. "What do you mean?"
"I have a rough idea," Corven replaced Timor's jacket with a black long-sleeved shirt. "We concealed them recently to avoid today's fiasco. They must have thought I had them on me the entire time.
"How many are there?" Adria was both relieved and concerned.
"Twelve, half belong to Kevary, my friend," he confessed while changing into the oversized, gray overall.
"And how did you acquire them?" Adria's thirst for knowledge was evident; the chance to escape Dictaduria was within grasp.
"That's a long story, not suitable for now," Corven's tone carried a hint of urgency.
"Have plans, do you?" Adria eyed him with skepticism.
"I need to retrieve the Alters and share them with Kevary before Gorbat's Umbras discover them. I'm concerned she's endured what I have," Corven's worry was evident.
Adria pondered the complexity of their situation. Despite the risks, she offered her help, willing to trade anything for a chance at freedom.
Corven appreciated the gesture but preferred to proceed alone. "Kevary doesn't know you. It's safer this way. Besides, you need rest," he noted her fatigue.
"That's not your concern. I'm capable of handling myself," she retorted.
Corven, eager to assist, asked, "What do you need from me?"
"Can you spare two Alters? One for my grandfather and one for me?" Adria asked directly, understanding the magnitude of her request.
He considered her in silence, weighing his decision.
"Why leave Dictaduria and not wait to the end of your sentence?”
Corven's question caught Adria off guard, but she answered with honesty. "I shouldn't be an extarri nor a Dictadurian. I'm not guilty of the crime that got me here, and Bitlan, my granddad, is at risk of dying if I don't secure his release soon. He's serving a life sentence, and age is catching up with him. I yearn for him to be healed to live out his days in the peace of aequiteism once again, even if it is on someone else’s skin."
"I'll hand a couple of them over to you. Just give me a few hours to retrieve them. How about we meet at midnight in Negativus? Get some rest, we could grab a drink, and you can share your story of innocence with me."
Adria felt a surge of trust towards him. "How will I be certain you'll show up?"
"You'll just have to trust me. If I'm not there by midnight, it'll mean I've run into trouble, and you might have to come to my rescue once more. Consider it my contingency plan," he quipped, a playful tone in his voice.
"Aren't you the humorous one, Corven?" She appreciated his lighthearted confidence.
"That I am. I must go now. Let's rendezvous at Lux de Noctis; it's a bar situated near—
"I'm aware of its location. Spare me the journey to Negativus for nothing. I had intended to spend the evening at home," she cut him off, her tone half-serious, half-amused.
"We'll have a reason to celebrate! I owe my life to you today."
Corven’s smile was broad and genuine. He extended a fist towards her.
She met his fist with her own, sealing their pact. Corven then turned and strode away with remarkable vigor, unfazed by the ordeal of having been hung upside down and being sliced up like meat merely an hour prior
Adria marveled at his astounding resilience and adaptability. That moment held the promise of a new beginning; a chance for Bitlan and herself to carve out a free existence somewhere in Malkuth. As she made her way back to her block, marked RT3X19-47—the same as the code on her overall—a profound and strange sense of hope enveloped her.
****
That's it for Chapter VII!
If you enjoyed it, please consider supporting A Tree of Omens!
Follow, share, leave a comment or review, either works.
As a reminder, Patreon is up and running with 26+ Chapters ahead of SH release.
Thank you for your time and see you along the road!
Aequitas and much love,
Indigo Sapiens.
The Souls in Sectum – Chapter VII – A Stranger’s Kindness
He remained quiet as he followed Adria through a labyrinth of streets. The woman's mind raced as she navigated through the shadows, mindful of the daylight that suggested most Dictadurians were away at work. She hoped to reach her block unnoticed with Corven in tow. If Meida's claims were true and Corven had access to alters, Adria knew she needed to earn his trust to obtain that crucial information. It could be the one chance to escape Sectum and find true freedom without facing retaliation.
Determined to get herself and her grandfather out of Dictaduria at such opportunity, Adria knew alters were forbidden by the Edictum Vitae and considered illegal in Malkuth, unheard of for decades. Yet, the prospect of wasting another moment in Sectum after learning of those genetic modifiers was unbearable to her.
"Where are we going?"
Corven uncertainty was clear, yet he acknowledge Adria's resolve.
"To my block. I have an overall that will help you return home without drawing attention," she reassured him, offering a sense of calm.
"Thank you," he responded, his gratitude genuine.
Adria was still piecing together what she knew about him, but she sensed he could be trusted. The country's layout, a complex code of alphanumeric combinations for sections, streets, and blocks, was something Adria had mastered by her second year as a Dictadurian. Corven, despite his remarkable memory, found it challenging to navigate that system daily and feared Adria might notice his poor sense of direction—a vulnerability that had led to his capture by Meida and Timor.
As they ascended through concrete block covered hills, Corven observed Adria's extreme caution, her movements reminiscent of a hunter skulking in the shadows and corners. They blended into their environment, pacing through cemented streets until reaching the edge of a valley of grey hills. After reaching the third one and climbing it, a solitary row of blocks faced the horizon, marked in a stone plate as 'S. RT3X19'. There used to be a X20-X22.
Adria was haunted by the memory of streets that once existed there, erased by a landslide weeks prior, claiming a hundred and thirty-eight lives and revealing the incompetence of Roland Copernus anew. The tragedy lingered in her nightmares, its dark shadow surfacing with every visit.
This hauntingly captivating sunset vista was born from catastrophe, instilling constant fear of another landslide among the survivors. Adria's block stood at the far end of RT3X19, deemed 'lucky' by others for narrowly escaping the disaster—a sentiment she couldn't share.
Corven recognized the road code, not far from his own. "Wait, isn't this street the one that...?"
"Yes," Adria interjected sharply, her curt response signaling the topic was off-limits. He wisely chose silence, imagining the ordeal she endured.
Adria requested a transfer for herself and Bitlan that same day, though bureaucratic delays meant an indefinite wait. The sight of the remaining blocks offered a semblance of disruption, covered by orange protection tape, despite the regime's unfulfilled, weeks old promise to construct a barrier against future landslides.
Corven caught a glimpse of Capitalia on the horizon, a beacon of hope for many Dictadurians seeking transfer to Sectum's fourth country, a step closer to reclaiming their lives under aequiteism.
As evening approached, the streets grew quieter, seemingly untouched by the recent acistorm. The setting sun cast the gray concrete blocks in a warm orange hue, a sight that captivated Corven, whose thoughts of craving cheese drifted as rain puddles mirrored the sky's changing colors.
They stopped before a block marked RT3X19-47. Corven's heart sank at its dilapidated state—cracked walls hastily mended with glue, cracked windows and holes patched with melted plastic, a stark reflection of the area's neglect.
“It’s a piece of furka, I know.”
Adria understood his reaction; their home, battered by acistorms and sporadic civil unrest, bore the marks of years of neglect, exacerbated by the regime's control over concrete distribution. The material became expensive and rare to find since the regime started regulating and controlling its distribution decades before, deviating resources to Capitalia. Given their distance from the country’s center any repairs or improvements rarely happened. She and her grandfather had improvised patches, valuing their secluded life away from the regime's scrutiny and the anonymity from Negativus’ families. Despite its flaws, it was a sanctuary where they had found a sort of peace, that, until the floors started shaking.
"Wait here," she instructed, leaving Corven taken aback by the prospect of being left outside.
She approached the metallic door, after a couple of attempts struggling with the digital lock it moved before getting stuck and provoking a forceful kick from Adria to restore its function. Once in, the door slammed shut behind her, leaving Corven alone with his thoughts.
Top of Form
He heard the metallic clicking of the door as it opened a minute later. Adria emerged, holding a long-sleeved shirt and an overall with the code WC2C4I2-32, from a block so close to the border that no one would bother to verify the wearer's identity.
She handed them to him, and his look of perplexed gratitude brought a smile to her face. "Remember what I mentioned about helping me later? Meida was torturing you because you stole some alters, right?"
Corven looked into Adria's grey eyes, realizing she had no reason to trust him, yet she had saved his life. "They can alter your identity. Once integrated into your system, you can become a different person to molecular level. It's risky, but it's a way out of Sectum. I know their location." This admission solidified the trust between them.
"Why are you telling me this?" Adria peered into his brown eyes, seeking truth.
"You saved my life. I owe you," Corven was sincere, his intentions were palpable.
Adria felt justified in her actions. "This place is cruel; people follow their own rules, lacking any real justice. I wasn’t going to turn a blind eye"
Corven's mind briefly revisited the horror of Meida's attack. Shaking off the memory, he focused on Adria's next question. "Where are the Alters?"
"I can't recall exactly," he admitted, struggling to focus.
Adria's heart sank. "What do you mean?"
"I have a rough idea," Corven replaced Timor's jacket with a black long-sleeved shirt. "We concealed them recently to avoid today's fiasco. They must have thought I had them on me the entire time.
"How many are there?" Adria was both relieved and concerned.
"Twelve, half belong to Kevary, my friend," he confessed while changing into the oversized, gray overall.
"And how did you acquire them?" Adria's thirst for knowledge was evident; the chance to escape Dictaduria was within grasp.
"That's a long story, not suitable for now," Corven's tone carried a hint of urgency.
"Have plans, do you?" Adria eyed him with skepticism.
"I need to retrieve the Alters and share them with Kevary before Gorbat's Umbras discover them. I'm concerned she's endured what I have," Corven's worry was evident.
Adria pondered the complexity of their situation. Despite the risks, she offered her help, willing to trade anything for a chance at freedom.
Corven appreciated the gesture but preferred to proceed alone. "Kevary doesn't know you. It's safer this way. Besides, you need rest," he noted her fatigue.
"That's not your concern. I'm capable of handling myself," she retorted.
Corven, eager to assist, asked, "What do you need from me?"
"Can you spare two Alters? One for my grandfather and one for me?" Adria asked directly, understanding the magnitude of her request.
He considered her in silence, weighing his decision.
"Why leave Dictaduria and not wait to the end of your sentence?”
Corven's question caught Adria off guard, but she answered with honesty. "I shouldn't be an extarri nor a Dictadurian. I'm not guilty of the crime that got me here, and Bitlan, my granddad, is at risk of dying if I don't secure his release soon. He's serving a life sentence, and age is catching up with him. I yearn for him to be healed to live out his days in the peace of aequiteism once again, even if it is on someone else’s skin."
"I'll hand a couple of them over to you. Just give me a few hours to retrieve them. How about we meet at midnight in Negativus? Get some rest, we could grab a drink, and you can share your story of innocence with me."
Adria felt a surge of trust towards him. "How will I be certain you'll show up?"
"You'll just have to trust me. If I'm not there by midnight, it'll mean I've run into trouble, and you might have to come to my rescue once more. Consider it my contingency plan," he quipped, a playful tone in his voice.
"Aren't you the humorous one, Corven?" She appreciated his lighthearted confidence.
"That I am. I must go now. Let's rendezvous at Lux de Noctis; it's a bar situated near—
"I'm aware of its location. Spare me the journey to Negativus for nothing. I had intended to spend the evening at home," she cut him off, her tone half-serious, half-amused.
"We'll have a reason to celebrate! I owe my life to you today."
Corven’s smile was broad and genuine. He extended a fist towards her.
She met his fist with her own, sealing their pact. Corven then turned and strode away with remarkable vigor, unfazed by the ordeal of having been hung upside down and being sliced up like meat merely an hour prior
Adria marveled at his astounding resilience and adaptability. That moment held the promise of a new beginning; a chance for Bitlan and herself to carve out a free existence somewhere in Malkuth. As she made her way back to her block, marked RT3X19-47—the same as the code on her overall—a profound and strange sense of hope enveloped her.
****
That's it for Chapter VII!
If you enjoyed it, please consider supporting A Tree of Omens!
Follow, share, leave a comment or review, either works.
As a reminder, Patreon is up and running with 26+ Chapters ahead of SH release.
Thank you for your time and see you along the road!
Aequitas and much love,
Indigo Sapiens.
