The Power Seekers
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“I’m sorry, but I can’t do that,” said the man. “You’re not a member of our club.” He was dressed in an expensive suit and wore his hair slicked back with pomade. His face looked like it had been carved from stone by some ancient sculptor who’d never heard of chisel or hammer.
The only thing about him that seemed alive were those eyes—they glowed red as he stared at me through my mirror shield.
My heart pounded so hard against my ribs I thought they might break free to escape their cage. My hands shook uncontrollably; sweat dripped down into my eyes. This wasn’t how things went for me anymore: this was new territory.
It felt wrong somehow, being here without any weapons on hand. But what choice did I have? If there’s one thing you learn when dealing with people like these guys is that if your first move doesn’t work out, then all bets are off…and sometimes even second chances don’t pan out either.
So be prepared for anything. That’s why I always carry two guns wherever I go now. One just isn’t enough anymore.
But right now, I didn’t need them because nothing could hurt me while I stood behind my magic mirror shield. And since no matter where I ran to, they would find me eventually anyway, hiding wouldn’t help much. Besides, I knew exactly what kind of men they were.
They weren’t going to give up until they got what they wanted—which meant they were probably after something important to me. Something very valuable indeed.
So instead of running away, I decided to fight fire with fire. Or rather, ice with cold water. “What makes you think you’ve come to the right place?” I asked.
He smiled again, showing perfect white teeth. There was a hint of cruelty in his expression, which made sense considering what he was doing. After all, it takes more than money to make someone want to kill another person.
You also have to enjoy watching others suffer. In fact, most murderers start out by torturing animals before moving on to humans. These days, though, torture has become such a popular pastime among rich kids that many parents hire professional sadists to teach their children proper techniques.
Some of them even pay good money for lessons. Of course, once word gets around, everyone wants to join in. Soon you’ll see whole families sitting together, laughing hysterically over some poor animal’s screams as its skin peels off.
“We know everything about every single member of this club,” said the man. “And we already checked your background thoroughly. We found out that you used to belong to a different organization, but quit soon afterward. Why did you leave us? Wasn’t it fun playing games with other people’s lives?”
That last question caught me completely off guard. How did they know about my old job? Did they have spies everywhere? Maybe I should have taken better care of myself. Still, I couldn’t let them get under my skin. Not yet.
First I needed to figure out what they really wanted. Then maybe I could use that information to turn the tables on them.
“Why don’t you tell me what you want?” I suggested.
His smile widened. “Oh, we will. Just wait and see.”
Then he turned toward his friends, who were standing nearby. All three of them started talking at once, each trying to drown out the other two. Their voices rose higher and louder until finally they reached a crescendo of shouting that echoed throughout the room.
I took advantage of their distraction to slip away unnoticed. As I left, however, I noticed that one of them kept staring straight ahead, his gaze fixed on me. When I glanced back, I saw that he was holding a gun pointed directly at my chest.
It was too late to run now.
***
A few minutes later, I arrived home. A small crowd had gathered outside, waiting eagerly for me to emerge from my house. I ignored them, knowing full well that none of them would ever understand what I was feeling inside.
Instead, I walked slowly across the street, keeping my head low. Once I stepped foot on my own property, I stopped dead in my tracks.
There she was, lying motionless on her bed. Her body was covered with blood, and several large wounds were visible on both sides of her neck. She must have died instantly. No wonder I hadn’t sensed anyone else coming near earlier.
Whoever killed her had done it quickly and quietly.
For a moment, I wondered whether I should call the police. But then I remembered what happened to my friend, and I realized that whoever murdered her probably still lived close by. Even worse, he might have seen me arrive home today. The only way to avoid getting arrested or shot was to keep quiet. At least until I figured out what to do next.
After making sure nobody was looking, I slipped through the front door and closed it carefully behind me. Then I locked it tight. Now I’d never have to worry about intruders breaking in. For a long time, I sat alone in silence, thinking about what had just happened. Finally, I sighed deeply and headed upstairs to take a shower.
When I came downstairs wearing fresh clothes an hour later, I looked around nervously. Nobody seemed to be paying any attention to me, so I went into the kitchen and poured myself a glass of milk. Then I grabbed a piece of bread and began eating it while reading the newspaper.
It wasn’t easy staying calm when there were killers roaming free in town, but somehow I managed. Eventually, though, my nerves got the best of me and I broke down crying. My shoulders shook violently, and tears streamed steadily from my eyes.
I tried desperately to hold back the sound of my sobbing, but it was useless. Everyone within earshot heard me.
My mother rushed over to comfort me, but I pushed her away. “Don’t touch me!” I shouted angrily. “You’re not helping! If anything, you’re part of the problem. Don’t you realize how dangerous it is living here anymore?”
She didn’t say a thing. Instead, she stared silently at me, as if expecting me to explain why I felt like this. So I told her the truth: “Because of you, Dad isn’t alive anymore.”
Her expression softened slightly. “What are you talking about? What does that have to do with—”
But before she could finish speaking, my father appeared suddenly beside us. He put his arms around my mom and pulled her close against him. They stood together for a minute without saying a word. Then my dad kissed my mother tenderly on the forehead and whispered something in her ear.
Afterward, he smiled softly and disappeared again.
Mommy cried even harder after that. And although I knew nothing good would come of telling her the rest of the story, I decided to speak up anyway.
“He’s gone,” I said sadly. “And I’m all alone now. You’ve ruined everything. Why can’t you leave things alone already?”
The look on her face made me feel ashamed. Tears continued streaming down her cheeks, and she hugged herself tightly. There was no doubt in my mind that she blamed me for losing our family. That hurt more than I thought possible.
Finally, Mommy spoke. “How am I supposed to live without your father?” she asked tearfully. “We were happy together—we really were. We loved each other very much. How did we end up like this? Wherever has God taken him?”
As soon as she finished asking those questions, I wanted to scream at her. This was exactly the kind of nonsense I hated hearing. I couldn’t believe she actually believed such stupid lies. But instead of arguing with her right then and there, I simply nodded politely.
“Yes… yes…” I agreed weakly. “God takes people away sometimes. Sometimes they die young, and others grow old. Some disappear forever, and some return years later. But whatever happens, it doesn’t change who we are. Our hearts will always remain the same.”
At first, I thought she wouldn’t respond. But then she turned toward me and wiped her tears away. “Thank you,” she murmured quietly.
Then she reached out and touched my cheek gently with her fingers. “Your father used to tell me stories about you every night. About how brave you were growing up. He called you ‘the little hero.’ Do you remember?”
I hesitated for a second, unsure whether I should answer. In fact, I almost lied to her. But finally, I gave in and admitted, “Yeah, I guess I do.”
It took another few seconds for me to find my voice. When I eventually opened my mouth, however, I found myself unable to get the words out. All I could manage was a soft whisper. “If only you knew the whole truth….”
***
That evening, I lay awake in bed until late into the morning. The sun hadn’t risen yet, but I still couldn’t sleep. Every time I closed my eyes, images of the past kept flashing across my mind. Memories of happier times. Of the days when Daddy was alive.
Eventually, I fell asleep. Only to wake up two hours later. Still wide awake, I tossed and turned in my bed. At last, I rose from my mattress and walked outside onto the balcony. From there, I gazed off into space, wondering what might happen next.
A short distance away, I saw a man walking along the road. His head was bowed low, and he carried a large sack slung over one shoulder. As I watched, he stopped by the side of the street and sat down on the ground. A moment later, a woman carrying several bags joined him.
She set them down nearby, then knelt down beside him. For the longest time, neither of them moved or spoke a single word to each other. Eventually, though, the man lifted his gaze and looked straight ahead. It seemed clear enough to me that he’d been crying.
After watching the scene unfold for nearly half an hour, I realized something strange had happened. I wasn’t sure quite how to describe it, so I just shook my head and went back inside. My heart ached terribly, but I forced myself to go through the motions of getting ready for school.
When I arrived at the academy, I noticed everyone staring intently at me. Even the teachers didn’t seem able to take their eyes off me. Their expressions ranged from curious to confused. No matter where I looked, I felt surrounded by strangers.
My classmates stared openly too. Most of them wore blank looks on their faces, while others glared suspiciously. One girl even approached me angrily. “Why don’t you ever talk anymore?!” she demanded. “You’re not yourself! Are you sick?! Is that why you never smile any longer?”
She was clearly upset, which surprised me somewhat. After all, I’d told her everything yesterday. Yet somehow she still managed to miss the point entirely.
“No!” I shouted. “Of course I’m fine. What’s wrong with you?”
But before I could explain further, someone else stepped forward. “What is going on here?” asked a familiar voice. “Is this boy ill? Has he lost his memory again?”
Everyone turned around to see Professor Kline standing behind us. He stood tall and proud, wearing a serious expression on his face. And although he appeared calm, I sensed fear radiating from deep within him.
The professor glanced briefly at me, then addressed the class once more. “This student has suffered a great tragedy recently,” he explained. “He must be allowed to grieve privately during these difficult times. Please respect his wishes.”
With those final words, he left the classroom. Everyone followed suit and filed silently out of the room. Once alone, I slumped against the wall and let out a long sigh. Then I slowly slid down to sit on the floor.
As I did, I heard footsteps approaching. They belonged to a small figure dressed in white robes. Standing directly above me, the person placed both hands on my shoulders.
“Are you okay?” said the priestess. Her gentle tone made me feel safe and secure.
For a moment, I simply nodded. But then I began shaking uncontrollably as fresh waves of emotion washed over me. Tears welled up in my eyes, and I struggled desperately to hold them back. Finally, after much effort, I managed to force the floodgates shut tight.
Once I regained control, I wiped my tears away and tried hard to speak calmly. “Thank you…for coming…” I whispered.
“Don’t mention it,” replied the priestess. “We are friends now. We will always stand together.”
Her kind words brought me some comfort. Slowly, I raised my head and met her gaze. There was no trace of anger or hostility in it, nor any hint that she blamed me for anything. Instead, I saw compassion and understanding shining brightly in her beautiful blue eyes.
I smiled weakly. “It’s good to have such wonderful people like you around.”
At that very instant, another pair of feet came rushing toward us. This time they were clad in black boots. When I looked up, I found myself looking right into the face of the most feared man in our entire village: Lord Rufus.
His dark eyes glittered coldly beneath bushy eyebrows. In contrast, his lips curled upward slightly, revealing rows of sharp teeth. Although he was only about five foot six inches tall, his presence filled the whole world with terror. The mere sight of him sent shivers running down my spine.
“Hmph,” snorted the lord. “So what do we have here? Another failure?”
“Lord Rufus,” interjected the priestess quickly. “Please leave this young man alone. You’ve already caused him enough pain.”
Rufus sneered. “That’s rich coming from you. If anyone should know better than to meddle in matters outside your own sphere of influence, it would be you.”
Before I knew what was happening, the priestess reached out and grabbed my arm. She pulled me to my feet and dragged me along until I stumbled past the two men. As soon as I passed between them, however, she released me.
Then she spun around and faced the lord. “How dare you say such things!” she snapped. “Who gave you permission to act without regard for other people’s feelings?”
“Oh, please spare me your sanctimonious nonsense,” growled Rufus. His eyes narrowed dangerously. “If you want to lecture me, go ahead. Just make sure you can handle the consequences when I call you out on it later.”
Without warning, he lunged forward and seized the priestess by the throat. With one hand wrapped tightly around her neck, he lifted her high into the air. For several seconds, neither of them moved an inch. It seemed clear that the fight had begun—and yet nobody dared move to stop it.
Finally, though, something changed. A loud crack echoed through the hall, and the sound of breaking glass suddenly rang out. At first, I thought it might be part of the performance, but then I realized there was nothing theatrical about the noise. Someone had just shattered a window!
And judging from the way everyone froze in place, I guessed that the culprit was none other than Lord Rufus himself.
A second later, the door burst open. Several students rushed inside to help their teacher restrain the enraged nobleman. One of them even threw a punch straight into his jaw. Before long, all three of them wrestled him onto the ground and pinned him down.
Just before they could finish him off completely, however, someone else stepped into view. He wore a red robe and carried a staff topped with a large crystal ball. Instantly, the tension vanished. All four combatants relaxed and stood still, waiting patiently for the newcomer to take charge.
When the wizard finally spoke, his voice was calm and measured. “You may release Lord Rufus,” he instructed. Then, turning to look at the priestess, he added, “Miss Lillia, is everything alright?”
The girl bowed deeply. “Yes, thank you so much for saving me.”
After giving her a quick once-over, the wizard turned to address the rest of us. “Now then, let’s get started. Everyone, gather round.”
He gestured grandly, and the crowd obediently formed a circle around him. Once again, I felt compelled to join them. After all, if these strangers wanted me to stay put, who was I to argue?
As I took my seat next to the others, I caught sight of the broken window behind us. My heart skipped a beat when I noticed that the shards of glass lay scattered across the floor. Had Lord Rufus really done this…?
But before I could dwell on the matter further, the wizard began speaking. “Good evening, ladies and gentlemen. Thank you for joining me tonight. I trust you’re enjoying yourselves.”
There was no trace of anger or hostility in his tone. Instead, he sounded almost cheerful. And although he didn’t seem particularly pleased to see me sitting beside him, he did not show any signs of aggression either.
In fact, he barely acknowledged my existence whatsoever. So intent was he upon addressing the audience that I couldn’t tell whether or not he’d heard me speak. But after a few moments, he broke away from his speech and addressed me directly.
“Ah yes… Miss Lillia. Would you mind telling me why you were standing up during my presentation earlier?”
I hesitated briefly, unsure how best to respond. Finally, I decided to give the truth a try. “Well…” I mumbled nervously. “It’s kind of hard to explain.”
At last, the wizard nodded slowly. “Very well. Please continue, then. What exactly happened back there?”
My mouth went dry. This time, I wasn’t going to lie. Not unless I absolutely had to. Still, I found myself struggling to find the right words. How do you describe a dream to someone who doesn’t believe in dreams?
The End