I should’ve paid attention in geography class! As a kid, I figured I could look things up on a map when needed, like not listening in math class because calculators weren’t illegal as teachers made them out to be. But how could I have known I’d end up in this situation?
“Whi-which country?” The crack in my voice was unbecoming of my illusion. I pretended to clear my throat, adding fake coughs for good measure. My heart primed itself to panic.
Spain should be along the Mediterranean Sea. Greece, too, I think? I recalled something Greek on the menu of a Mediterranean restaurant that Deen and I ate at a couple of weeks ago. Portugal was right next to Spain, but I wasn’t sure if it was considered a Mediterranean country. Best if I could pick where Everett’s grandparents came from to make the most impact and connection.
How should I go about wriggling that information out of him?
I’m also Erind, I reminded myself. I should be able to come up with something. Consider this practice for when I’d eventually talk to Dario. Erind would send me to try again next time. I could feel it.
“I can’t recall much of it… that place,” I wistfully said, staring off into space as we entered the spacious restaurant serving breakfast buffet. “More accurate to say I chose to forget about the country I came from.”
The restaurant was a long hall, tracing the ship’s curve. One side opened to the ocean, protected by railings, with the gentle morning sunlight and salty breeze pouring in. The other side was lined with food stations, and tables and chairs took up the middle space. Delicious smells and slight chatter greeted us.
Around twenty or thirty passengers were inside, eating or lining up at the counters. Everett slightly bowed, finger-combing his messy hair to tame it. He shouldn’t have bothered because—and I wasn’t being mean here—a few passengers looked like they should’ve stayed in their rooms. I get that some went straight to breakfast right out of their bed. But, like, they should’ve at least fixed themselves up a bit.
I’m not being mean, am I? I wondered if this feeling was my own or Erind’s. I’d like to think I was a good person, unlike her.
“Forget… your home country, sir?” Everett asked,
“Home country?” I shook my head. “My birthplace—that’s all there is to it. I don’t think of it as home. No pleasant memories from there; not many memories to speak of, anyway. My family left when I was about seven or eight. Haven’t returned there since. And I don’t plan to.”
“I, uh, how do I put this?” Everett scratched the back of his neck. “But it’s still the place you came from, sir. It should count for something.”
“All I can remember was that life there was tough,” I continued. “Even harder was the journey to America. My family did reach the promised land—that’s what everybody back there said of the U.S. Eventually, I discovered this country wasn’t the paradise everyone made it out to be. But it’s a hundred times better than where I came from.”
I nudged my head toward the drinks counter and walked to it as if I had already dropped the topic. But I was laying the bait to keep reeling in Everett.
Did that expression make sense? Like pulling the line or hooking him or something? I had zero knowledge of fishing to make accurate metaphors about it. Point was, I bet on Everett wanting to know if I was related to someone he knew, and he’d eventually provide the information I wanted.
I glanced at a wall clock we passed—quarter to seven.
I checked my right palm. Thirty-one minutes left as Domino. I was meeting Deen at seven, so cut that to fifteen minutes. Fifteen.
A downcast pang stabbed my heart.
I didn’t want my existence to end. I didn’t want to return to being… her. Becoming Domino opened me to emotions practically alien before, allowing me to see and experience the world in a different light, almost like being reborn. I guess this is a literal rebirth.
Though Erind was good at reading people, choosing correctly how to act to manipulate them to her wants, she viewed the world as an outsider looking in, not as one of the people living in it. Erind was so detached from the world, from everything going around her, that being Domino, in some way, felt like my true self. I was more human, ‘realer,’ if that was an actual word, than Erind.
I had accepted that I couldn’t stay for longer than an hour at a time and that each transformation might be my last. But I found it hard to cut my very short time even shorter. Could I stop Erind from asserting herself and yanking off this face?
I peeped at my right crystal again. It ticked from ‘31’ to ‘30’. I heaved a sigh.
Everett wore a concerned look. “I’m sorry, sir. Sorry for, uh, reminding you of bad memories.” He brought me back to the side mission I was no longer keen on doing. “I should’ve expected you didn’t have a good experience back at your home country—I mean, your birthplace country—if you left it.”
“It’s nothing, lad,” I said, regaining my bearings. “I wouldn’t be the man—” I suppressed a giggle “—I am today if I didn’t go through such hardships in the past. You were right when you said it should count for something. The bad experiences, trials, and tribulations did count. They’re part of who I am.” I blinked after finishing the sentence.
Who am I?
I was a manifestation of an Adumbrae’s power. If Erind succeeded in becoming human again, that was it for me. Actually, I’d be lucky if Erind would summon this face again after my rebellious thoughts. I gazed left—starboard or port, whatever—looking out at the endless sea.
Or ocean. The Pacific Ocean.
A sense of déjà vu wriggled at me, pushing away the question of the difference between a sea and an ocean.
This scene felt familiar. Why?
“My grandparents are also immigrants, sir,” said Everett, interrupting my existential crisis. Luckily, he was more interested in keeping up our conversation than I was. And it didn’t take long for my bait to work, getting him to open up. “They also moved to the U.S. when they were children.”
“Grandparents, eh?” I chose a tea bag among those displayed—chamomile for the nerves—and poured myself a hot cup of water while nodding intently at Everett’s story. “Then they must’ve immigrated long before I did. A much harder journey than I took, no doubt.”
“You got that right, sir. Right on both counts. They left Algeria sometime after the end of the Adumbrae War when things got calm enough for shipping routes to be restored. Algeria got hit bad. Way bad. They survived both wars—one caused by humans and the other… also caused by humans, I guess—but got nothing to eat if they stayed longer. They had no choice but to find a way out.”
Algeria? Something tugged at my mind like I had encountered this name before. But I sucked at geography, so where—?
The news!
Whenever a map of Africa was displayed during reports about the African Adumbrae crisis, showing placements of UN forces and the spread of Adumbrae, Algeria was there. It was a pretty big country, so the name was quite prominent on maps. If I remember correctly, it was situated in the northern part of Africa. If it was right below Europe, then that meant it was along the Mediterranean Sea.
I snapped my finger. I figured it out!
Everett arched a brow.
“Oh, don’t let me distract you,” I hurriedly said. “I’m a little familiar with Algeria, you see, and remembered something. I’ll tell you after you finish your story. Go ahead.” I bobbed the tea bag into my cup, intently looking at Everett so he’d continue.
“Yeah…” He chose an empty cup and filled it with coffee. “I was talking about my grandparents surviving two wars. But I guess it was really the Adumbrae War that fucked up Algeria. They were mostly spared the horrors of World War Two, other than being under new management—the Nazi-friendly French, but the French just the same. Still under colonial powers, so nothing new. But the Purple Bloom that cropped up over there—”
“The Great Maremoti,” I said with a forced Italian accent.
Other countries had their names for the city-sized bouquet of tentacled hands with weird gravity powers. But since it formed in Italy and crawled to the Mediterranean Sea to reside there, compacting several towns and cities into balls like a dung beetle, the Italians got dibs on naming it.
Maremoti meant strong waves or something. The Purple Bloom wrecked the Mediterranean coast with tsunamis while it hid underwater. But I think it destroyed more of the African side, so shouldn’t the African countries get to name it?
“Yes, sir,” said Everett. “You know of it?”
“The Great Maremoti, one of the Purple Blooms that appeared during the Second Wave,” I said, recalling Dad’s lectures. “Of course, I know of it.”
Several times I had sat in the back of Dad’s class at university, with Mom beside me, waiting for it to end so we could all go home together. Mom taught there, too, so no one complained that I roamed the campus. I was like a mascot of sorts. While waiting for Dad, who had a later schedule, Mom would give me paper and coloring materials to entertain myself. But there was no need.
Most kids would get bored of sitting still for a couple of hours. Not me. I was fascinated by observing how typical college students acted. People-watching was entertaining, especially those made to stay in one place, very different from people walking about their day. And I did learn some interesting stuff about Adumbrae, though I didn’t quite understand most of it then.
Fun memories. Even Erind thought so.
Right… those were Erind’s memories. Not mine.
If I were in Erind’s place and had control of this body back then, I would’ve cherished my parents and the short years our family was complete. She didn’t care about any of that. It was all about her and her tiny island, separate from everyone else. She even considered Dad’s sudden disappearance as an inconvenience rather than a tragedy.
I sighed again, gripping the handle of my cup tighter. I fabricated my fake life for Everett to distract myself from depressing thoughts.
“There were many Purple Blooms during the war,” I said, “so it’s not surprising most people won’t know each one. Likely, they’ll be familiar only with those of the First Wave, the really famous Purple Blooms. But you see, lad…” I took another sip, pushing down the temptation to check the clock or my palm crystal. “I’m also from Algeria.”
“Really? You’re not joking, sir?” A wide smile crossed Everett’s face. I imagined he’d be this happy if Deen told him she liked him.
“I’m telling the truth, lad. Several times I had seen the calcified tentacles of the dead Maremoti standing like a forest of ivory in the Mediterranean Sea. Small world, isn’t it?”
“That’s why you look familiar! I bet you’re related to our family friends living there.”
“I look like someone you know?” I shrugged. “Perhaps, lad. Perhaps I’m related to them. But as I’ve said, I haven’t maintained any connection in Algeria. I’d rather forget about that place. Memories of hardships and all that. This isn’t a contest or anything, and I know your grandparents had it harder, but I—”
“Sir, I think life in Algeria was more difficult after the Adumbrae War,” Everett cut in. “The Purple Bloom was destroyed decades ago, but the instability of the country, the bullshit economy, the anxiety and stress of its citizens… Seedings are very common, and Adumbrae keep popping up everywhere. Then Corebrings come to—”
“It’s a constant battlefield, alright.” I nodded as if I knew what he was talking about, swigging my cup to stir up the dregs. “War officially ended long ago, but not really. Algeria’s still a warzone to this day.”
“I wouldn’t call it a warzone, sir. From the perspective of us humans, it isn’t.”
“Why do you say so, lad?” Interesting. Everett still counted himself as human.
A bit sad but also inspiring. I could count myself as one, too, despite, you know, my circumstances. If all the passengers and crew of this ship were polled to decide who between Erind and I was more human, I bet I’d get the majority of the votes.
“Adumbrae feed on humans,” Everett explained. “Then Corebrings come to sanitize the problem. Sanitize—that’s the word a spokesperson for the Hive once used. A clean and neat way of saying torching the whole place down with no regard for collateral damage. It’s the warzone of Corebrings and Adumbrae. They’re both the same. Humans have no say in their fight other than to suffer.
“Even the French ended up leaving the Algerians, making themselves look magnanimous for granting independence, when they just didn’t want to deal with a crumbling territory. Many Algerians fought for independence during World War Two—my great-grandfather was one of the nationalists—but I’m unsure if they want what happened to their country. It’s waist-deep in crap that the colonizers left it behind.”
“Have you been there?”
“There? In Algeria?”
“Yes. Have you ever visited?”
“I, erm, no…” Everett looked at the floor. “I want to go there to meet the rest of my family, also the relatives of family friends, but my parents won’t let me because it’s dangerous. Also, we don’t have money. But I do watch the news about Algeria any chance I get—there’s a few available online.”
“Feeling homesick for a home you’ve never been to?”
“Something like that, sir. And I can’t just forget about my aunts, uncles, and everyone else. The world has mostly forgotten them. If there’s no big Adumbrae Titan or thrilling fight involving a famous Corebring, the rest of the world doesn’t care.”
“Attention’s there again with the new Purple Bloom. Not exactly there, but in Africa as a whole.”
“Good news that’s borne from bad news.” Everett drank from his cup while his brows furrowed in irritation. He continued ranting about the injustices of the world.
Erind would’ve shut these all out if she were on the fore. I could feel her grumbles.
But I could understand Everett. I could relate to him because I was normal, unlike Erind. I could sympathize and empathize—Erind’s “understanding” of others wouldn’t even count as empathy—and connect with others.
“Come to think of it,” I said. “Madagascar is a French Protectorate. The French will likely leave it to its own devices in the aftermath of this new Purple Bloom.”
“I think so too, sir.” Everett’s face began to contort in anger. “Abandoning people yet again.”
“Maybe there’s something about the French that’s bad luck,” I said, trying to lighten the mood.
“This world is unfair!” he yelled. A few drops of coffee splashed out of his cup as he shook.
A man approaching the drinks station veered away, deciding omelets were a better choice to start his day. A family eating at a nearby table stared at us. I waved at Everett, signing to tone it down.
“Corebrings and Adumbrae are the same,” he went on in a lower voice, wiping the coffee on his arm. “Powerful beings that don’t care about those below them. Humans—we are below them. But among us humans, there are also those above and those below. We can’t even be equal among ourselves. If we cared about each other more…”
“I know, son.” I put my cup down and patted his shoulders.
Fingers of guilt clutched my heart. Erind enjoyed playing hero, trying to save people. But she had barely saved anyone. The innocent lives she ended far outnumbered those she saved. She didn’t care. If it were me in control, I would’ve saved many people. I know that I’d care.
“Everything you said… you’re right,” I said. “Perhaps I should visit Algeria again.”
Everett jolted. “Oh no, sir! I wasn’t implying that you didn’t care about—”
“I don’t,” I interjected. “You’re right that I don’t. I don’t care about my relatives or all the people languishing in Algeria while I’m already happy here in America. But I should care.” I met Everett’s eyes. “Thanks for reminding me, son.”
Everett was a good person. Super unlikely he was in cahoots with Dario’s nefarious plans. Cahoots—such a funny word. If nothing else, our little conversation showed that Everett was a potential ally. If he saw Corebrings and Adumbrae as the same, he might not be bothered working with an Adumbrae if it was to do good.
“Yes, sir,” said Everett. “But I swear I wasn’t making snide comments about you.”
“No offense taken. Anyway, I don’t know how to start looking for my family in Algeria. I’m surprised people still stay there.”
“They can’t go anywhere, sir. My relatives…” Everett chugged down the last drop of his coffee. He placed the empty cup on the table and looked at me with resolute eyes. “Someday, I’ll find them and get them out of there. I don’t know how, but I’ll do it.”
“I… I might try to do the same thing.”
“I can help you,” he said. “What’s your—? Oh, I haven’t introduced myself! I’m Everett Hamza. Erm, my name’s not structured traditionally. My family followed American naming conventions for less confusion and easier integration.”
“I understand. Well, Everett, a pleasure to meet you.” I put down my cup and extended my hand. I was buying time to cook up a fake name. What Everett said about changing their name structure gave me an idea. “The name’s Farid Aubert,” I said, firmly grasping his hand and giving it a firm shake.
“Farid… Aubert? Is that a French surname?”
“As you may have guessed, our family took on a French surname when we got to America. Made up some story that we were half-French or something like that.”
Everett chuckled. “Just say half-French rather than Algerian?”
“You got that right. But as far as I know, we don’t have one drop of French blood.”
“My uncle thought of doing something like that.” Everett went on about the experiences of his family moving to the U.S.
I sensed he’d eventually get around to trying to learn more about me again. He might even ask for my number. Minutes continued to tick. Part of me wanted to stay around and chat with him. He seemed nice.
Sure, Deen might break down my cabin door trying to find Erind, but let Erind deal with that. I wanted to maximize the time I have as Domino.
“Better not,” I muttered, shaking my head.
“Sir?” said Everett.
“I’m starving,” I said, rubbing my stomach. “Want to eat? Or are you going to go back to your friend now?”
He looked around for a clock—about three minutes to seven. “I better get back to my room, sir. Maybe my friend is already awake. Or probably not. But, uh, yeah… I’ll see you around, sir. I’ll ask my family if they know of a secure way to Algeria.”
I gave him a nod of goodbye. He walked out the open double doors while I turned around and walked to the railings to gaze at the sea… ocean. I remember now why this felt familiar.
“Kelsey…” I whispered.
Temple
Not only are we developing Everett (I want to explore the team, and Everett might have a more significant role later), but we also have someone calling out Erind on her BS. Usually, if there's a villainous MC, the one who'll call them out will be the hero, whose perspective won't matter much to the villainous MC. At times, the villainous MC might have a change-of-heart moment, allowing the author to present the "other side" of the situation.
Those ways are ineffectual for exploring Erind's mind. So, how about we go at it this way with Domino? Erind doesn't have an internal conflict, and this thing with Domino won't count as one, but it will allow us to explore Erind's character more deeply. All this time, we just accepted Erind to be who she is with no opposing view.
P.S. Nothing against the French.
Advanced chapters of main story and Erind x Deen on Patreon. Thanks to all Patrons supporting my stories!
Read my other story: Getting Hard - a litrpg on building a tank
Join our Discord
I should’ve paid attention in geography class! As a kid, I figured I could look things up on a map when needed, like not listening in math class because calculators weren’t illegal as teachers made them out to be. But how could I have known I’d end up in this situation?
“Whi-which country?” The crack in my voice was unbecoming of my illusion. I pretended to clear my throat, adding fake coughs for good measure. My heart primed itself to panic.
Spain should be along the Mediterranean Sea. Greece, too, I think? I recalled something Greek on the menu of a Mediterranean restaurant that Deen and I ate at a couple of weeks ago. Portugal was right next to Spain, but I wasn’t sure if it was considered a Mediterranean country. Best if I could pick where Everett’s grandparents came from to make the most impact and connection.
How should I go about wriggling that information out of him?
I’m also Erind, I reminded myself. I should be able to come up with something. Consider this practice for when I’d eventually talk to Dario. Erind would send me to try again next time. I could feel it.
“I can’t recall much of it… that place,” I wistfully said, staring off into space as we entered the spacious restaurant serving breakfast buffet. “More accurate to say I chose to forget about the country I came from.”
The restaurant was a long hall, tracing the ship’s curve. One side opened to the ocean, protected by railings, with the gentle morning sunlight and salty breeze pouring in. The other side was lined with food stations, and tables and chairs took up the middle space. Delicious smells and slight chatter greeted us.
Around twenty or thirty passengers were inside, eating or lining up at the counters. Everett slightly bowed, finger-combing his messy hair to tame it. He shouldn’t have bothered because—and I wasn’t being mean here—a few passengers looked like they should’ve stayed in their rooms. I get that some went straight to breakfast right out of their bed. But, like, they should’ve at least fixed themselves up a bit.
I’m not being mean, am I? I wondered if this feeling was my own or Erind’s. I’d like to think I was a good person, unlike her.
“Forget… your home country, sir?” Everett asked,
“Home country?” I shook my head. “My birthplace—that’s all there is to it. I don’t think of it as home. No pleasant memories from there; not many memories to speak of, anyway. My family left when I was about seven or eight. Haven’t returned there since. And I don’t plan to.”
“I, uh, how do I put this?” Everett scratched the back of his neck. “But it’s still the place you came from, sir. It should count for something.”
“All I can remember was that life there was tough,” I continued. “Even harder was the journey to America. My family did reach the promised land—that’s what everybody back there said of the U.S. Eventually, I discovered this country wasn’t the paradise everyone made it out to be. But it’s a hundred times better than where I came from.”
I nudged my head toward the drinks counter and walked to it as if I had already dropped the topic. But I was laying the bait to keep reeling in Everett.
Did that expression make sense? Like pulling the line or hooking him or something? I had zero knowledge of fishing to make accurate metaphors about it. Point was, I bet on Everett wanting to know if I was related to someone he knew, and he’d eventually provide the information I wanted.
I glanced at a wall clock we passed—quarter to seven.
I checked my right palm. Thirty-one minutes left as Domino. I was meeting Deen at seven, so cut that to fifteen minutes. Fifteen.
A downcast pang stabbed my heart.
I didn’t want my existence to end. I didn’t want to return to being… her. Becoming Domino opened me to emotions practically alien before, allowing me to see and experience the world in a different light, almost like being reborn. I guess this is a literal rebirth.
Though Erind was good at reading people, choosing correctly how to act to manipulate them to her wants, she viewed the world as an outsider looking in, not as one of the people living in it. Erind was so detached from the world, from everything going around her, that being Domino, in some way, felt like my true self. I was more human, ‘realer,’ if that was an actual word, than Erind.
I had accepted that I couldn’t stay for longer than an hour at a time and that each transformation might be my last. But I found it hard to cut my very short time even shorter. Could I stop Erind from asserting herself and yanking off this face?
I peeped at my right crystal again. It ticked from ‘31’ to ‘30’. I heaved a sigh.
Everett wore a concerned look. “I’m sorry, sir. Sorry for, uh, reminding you of bad memories.” He brought me back to the side mission I was no longer keen on doing. “I should’ve expected you didn’t have a good experience back at your home country—I mean, your birthplace country—if you left it.”
“It’s nothing, lad,” I said, regaining my bearings. “I wouldn’t be the man—” I suppressed a giggle “—I am today if I didn’t go through such hardships in the past. You were right when you said it should count for something. The bad experiences, trials, and tribulations did count. They’re part of who I am.” I blinked after finishing the sentence.
Who am I?
I was a manifestation of an Adumbrae’s power. If Erind succeeded in becoming human again, that was it for me. Actually, I’d be lucky if Erind would summon this face again after my rebellious thoughts. I gazed left—starboard or port, whatever—looking out at the endless sea.
Or ocean. The Pacific Ocean.
A sense of déjà vu wriggled at me, pushing away the question of the difference between a sea and an ocean.
This scene felt familiar. Why?
“My grandparents are also immigrants, sir,” said Everett, interrupting my existential crisis. Luckily, he was more interested in keeping up our conversation than I was. And it didn’t take long for my bait to work, getting him to open up. “They also moved to the U.S. when they were children.”
“Grandparents, eh?” I chose a tea bag among those displayed—chamomile for the nerves—and poured myself a hot cup of water while nodding intently at Everett’s story. “Then they must’ve immigrated long before I did. A much harder journey than I took, no doubt.”
“You got that right, sir. Right on both counts. They left Algeria sometime after the end of the Adumbrae War when things got calm enough for shipping routes to be restored. Algeria got hit bad. Way bad. They survived both wars—one caused by humans and the other… also caused by humans, I guess—but got nothing to eat if they stayed longer. They had no choice but to find a way out.”
Algeria? Something tugged at my mind like I had encountered this name before. But I sucked at geography, so where—?
The news!
Whenever a map of Africa was displayed during reports about the African Adumbrae crisis, showing placements of UN forces and the spread of Adumbrae, Algeria was there. It was a pretty big country, so the name was quite prominent on maps. If I remember correctly, it was situated in the northern part of Africa. If it was right below Europe, then that meant it was along the Mediterranean Sea.
I snapped my finger. I figured it out!
Everett arched a brow.
“Oh, don’t let me distract you,” I hurriedly said. “I’m a little familiar with Algeria, you see, and remembered something. I’ll tell you after you finish your story. Go ahead.” I bobbed the tea bag into my cup, intently looking at Everett so he’d continue.
“Yeah…” He chose an empty cup and filled it with coffee. “I was talking about my grandparents surviving two wars. But I guess it was really the Adumbrae War that fucked up Algeria. They were mostly spared the horrors of World War Two, other than being under new management—the Nazi-friendly French, but the French just the same. Still under colonial powers, so nothing new. But the Purple Bloom that cropped up over there—”
“The Great Maremoti,” I said with a forced Italian accent.
Other countries had their names for the city-sized bouquet of tentacled hands with weird gravity powers. But since it formed in Italy and crawled to the Mediterranean Sea to reside there, compacting several towns and cities into balls like a dung beetle, the Italians got dibs on naming it.
Maremoti meant strong waves or something. The Purple Bloom wrecked the Mediterranean coast with tsunamis while it hid underwater. But I think it destroyed more of the African side, so shouldn’t the African countries get to name it?
“Yes, sir,” said Everett. “You know of it?”
“The Great Maremoti, one of the Purple Blooms that appeared during the Second Wave,” I said, recalling Dad’s lectures. “Of course, I know of it.”
Several times I had sat in the back of Dad’s class at university, with Mom beside me, waiting for it to end so we could all go home together. Mom taught there, too, so no one complained that I roamed the campus. I was like a mascot of sorts. While waiting for Dad, who had a later schedule, Mom would give me paper and coloring materials to entertain myself. But there was no need.
Most kids would get bored of sitting still for a couple of hours. Not me. I was fascinated by observing how typical college students acted. People-watching was entertaining, especially those made to stay in one place, very different from people walking about their day. And I did learn some interesting stuff about Adumbrae, though I didn’t quite understand most of it then.
Fun memories. Even Erind thought so.
Right… those were Erind’s memories. Not mine.
If I were in Erind’s place and had control of this body back then, I would’ve cherished my parents and the short years our family was complete. She didn’t care about any of that. It was all about her and her tiny island, separate from everyone else. She even considered Dad’s sudden disappearance as an inconvenience rather than a tragedy.
I sighed again, gripping the handle of my cup tighter. I fabricated my fake life for Everett to distract myself from depressing thoughts.
“There were many Purple Blooms during the war,” I said, “so it’s not surprising most people won’t know each one. Likely, they’ll be familiar only with those of the First Wave, the really famous Purple Blooms. But you see, lad…” I took another sip, pushing down the temptation to check the clock or my palm crystal. “I’m also from Algeria.”
“Really? You’re not joking, sir?” A wide smile crossed Everett’s face. I imagined he’d be this happy if Deen told him she liked him.
“I’m telling the truth, lad. Several times I had seen the calcified tentacles of the dead Maremoti standing like a forest of ivory in the Mediterranean Sea. Small world, isn’t it?”
“That’s why you look familiar! I bet you’re related to our family friends living there.”
“I look like someone you know?” I shrugged. “Perhaps, lad. Perhaps I’m related to them. But as I’ve said, I haven’t maintained any connection in Algeria. I’d rather forget about that place. Memories of hardships and all that. This isn’t a contest or anything, and I know your grandparents had it harder, but I—”
“Sir, I think life in Algeria was more difficult after the Adumbrae War,” Everett cut in. “The Purple Bloom was destroyed decades ago, but the instability of the country, the bullshit economy, the anxiety and stress of its citizens… Seedings are very common, and Adumbrae keep popping up everywhere. Then Corebrings come to—”
“It’s a constant battlefield, alright.” I nodded as if I knew what he was talking about, swigging my cup to stir up the dregs. “War officially ended long ago, but not really. Algeria’s still a warzone to this day.”
“I wouldn’t call it a warzone, sir. From the perspective of us humans, it isn’t.”
“Why do you say so, lad?” Interesting. Everett still counted himself as human.
A bit sad but also inspiring. I could count myself as one, too, despite, you know, my circumstances. If all the passengers and crew of this ship were polled to decide who between Erind and I was more human, I bet I’d get the majority of the votes.
“Adumbrae feed on humans,” Everett explained. “Then Corebrings come to sanitize the problem. Sanitize—that’s the word a spokesperson for the Hive once used. A clean and neat way of saying torching the whole place down with no regard for collateral damage. It’s the warzone of Corebrings and Adumbrae. They’re both the same. Humans have no say in their fight other than to suffer.
“Even the French ended up leaving the Algerians, making themselves look magnanimous for granting independence, when they just didn’t want to deal with a crumbling territory. Many Algerians fought for independence during World War Two—my great-grandfather was one of the nationalists—but I’m unsure if they want what happened to their country. It’s waist-deep in crap that the colonizers left it behind.”
“Have you been there?”
“There? In Algeria?”
“Yes. Have you ever visited?”
“I, erm, no…” Everett looked at the floor. “I want to go there to meet the rest of my family, also the relatives of family friends, but my parents won’t let me because it’s dangerous. Also, we don’t have money. But I do watch the news about Algeria any chance I get—there’s a few available online.”
“Feeling homesick for a home you’ve never been to?”
“Something like that, sir. And I can’t just forget about my aunts, uncles, and everyone else. The world has mostly forgotten them. If there’s no big Adumbrae Titan or thrilling fight involving a famous Corebring, the rest of the world doesn’t care.”
“Attention’s there again with the new Purple Bloom. Not exactly there, but in Africa as a whole.”
“Good news that’s borne from bad news.” Everett drank from his cup while his brows furrowed in irritation. He continued ranting about the injustices of the world.
Erind would’ve shut these all out if she were on the fore. I could feel her grumbles.
But I could understand Everett. I could relate to him because I was normal, unlike Erind. I could sympathize and empathize—Erind’s “understanding” of others wouldn’t even count as empathy—and connect with others.
“Come to think of it,” I said. “Madagascar is a French Protectorate. The French will likely leave it to its own devices in the aftermath of this new Purple Bloom.”
“I think so too, sir.” Everett’s face began to contort in anger. “Abandoning people yet again.”
“Maybe there’s something about the French that’s bad luck,” I said, trying to lighten the mood.
“This world is unfair!” he yelled. A few drops of coffee splashed out of his cup as he shook.
A man approaching the drinks station veered away, deciding omelets were a better choice to start his day. A family eating at a nearby table stared at us. I waved at Everett, signing to tone it down.
“Corebrings and Adumbrae are the same,” he went on in a lower voice, wiping the coffee on his arm. “Powerful beings that don’t care about those below them. Humans—we are below them. But among us humans, there are also those above and those below. We can’t even be equal among ourselves. If we cared about each other more…”
“I know, son.” I put my cup down and patted his shoulders.
Fingers of guilt clutched my heart. Erind enjoyed playing hero, trying to save people. But she had barely saved anyone. The innocent lives she ended far outnumbered those she saved. She didn’t care. If it were me in control, I would’ve saved many people. I know that I’d care.
“Everything you said… you’re right,” I said. “Perhaps I should visit Algeria again.”
Everett jolted. “Oh no, sir! I wasn’t implying that you didn’t care about—”
“I don’t,” I interjected. “You’re right that I don’t. I don’t care about my relatives or all the people languishing in Algeria while I’m already happy here in America. But I should care.” I met Everett’s eyes. “Thanks for reminding me, son.”
Everett was a good person. Super unlikely he was in cahoots with Dario’s nefarious plans. Cahoots—such a funny word. If nothing else, our little conversation showed that Everett was a potential ally. If he saw Corebrings and Adumbrae as the same, he might not be bothered working with an Adumbrae if it was to do good.
“Yes, sir,” said Everett. “But I swear I wasn’t making snide comments about you.”
“No offense taken. Anyway, I don’t know how to start looking for my family in Algeria. I’m surprised people still stay there.”
“They can’t go anywhere, sir. My relatives…” Everett chugged down the last drop of his coffee. He placed the empty cup on the table and looked at me with resolute eyes. “Someday, I’ll find them and get them out of there. I don’t know how, but I’ll do it.”
“I… I might try to do the same thing.”
“I can help you,” he said. “What’s your—? Oh, I haven’t introduced myself! I’m Everett Hamza. Erm, my name’s not structured traditionally. My family followed American naming conventions for less confusion and easier integration.”
“I understand. Well, Everett, a pleasure to meet you.” I put down my cup and extended my hand. I was buying time to cook up a fake name. What Everett said about changing their name structure gave me an idea. “The name’s Farid Aubert,” I said, firmly grasping his hand and giving it a firm shake.
“Farid… Aubert? Is that a French surname?”
“As you may have guessed, our family took on a French surname when we got to America. Made up some story that we were half-French or something like that.”
Everett chuckled. “Just say half-French rather than Algerian?”
“You got that right. But as far as I know, we don’t have one drop of French blood.”
“My uncle thought of doing something like that.” Everett went on about the experiences of his family moving to the U.S.
I sensed he’d eventually get around to trying to learn more about me again. He might even ask for my number. Minutes continued to tick. Part of me wanted to stay around and chat with him. He seemed nice.
Sure, Deen might break down my cabin door trying to find Erind, but let Erind deal with that. I wanted to maximize the time I have as Domino.
“Better not,” I muttered, shaking my head.
“Sir?” said Everett.
“I’m starving,” I said, rubbing my stomach. “Want to eat? Or are you going to go back to your friend now?”
He looked around for a clock—about three minutes to seven. “I better get back to my room, sir. Maybe my friend is already awake. Or probably not. But, uh, yeah… I’ll see you around, sir. I’ll ask my family if they know of a secure way to Algeria.”
I gave him a nod of goodbye. He walked out the open double doors while I turned around and walked to the railings to gaze at the sea… ocean. I remember now why this felt familiar.
“Kelsey…” I whispered.
Temple
Not only are we developing Everett (I want to explore the team, and Everett might have a more significant role later), but we also have someone calling out Erind on her BS. Usually, if there's a villainous MC, the one who'll call them out will be the hero, whose perspective won't matter much to the villainous MC. At times, the villainous MC might have a change-of-heart moment, allowing the author to present the "other side" of the situation.
Those ways are ineffectual for exploring Erind's mind. So, how about we go at it this way with Domino? Erind doesn't have an internal conflict, and this thing with Domino won't count as one, but it will allow us to explore Erind's character more deeply. All this time, we just accepted Erind to be who she is with no opposing view.
P.S. Nothing against the French.
Advanced chapters of main story and Erind x Deen on Patreon. Thanks to all Patrons supporting my stories!
Read my other story: Getting Hard - a litrpg on building a tank
Join our Discord
