Part Five

“There is a way. But I promise, you will not wish to do it.” The anxiousness between either of them was festering.

            Avail considered all her options, even being a sacrifice. “What do I have to do?” She wanted to so badly sound fearless, but the possibility of losing her life blocked off her courage.

“Fido is right, you know? You aren’t a Manifestor.” The woman allowed regret to slip off her tongue. “I guess you just didn’t ask the right question. What you should’ve asked if you were a Watcher?”

“What would have been the answer?” Avail asked, causing her heart to stop and wait for the answer as well.

“He would’ve said you were not.”

Avail’s teeth punctured her bottom lip. “I don’t get what that means!” Avail yelled in frustration. She was fed up with this woman’s cryptic words.

“Of course, not. Even worse, that is all I can reveal.”

“Yo-you can’t be serious?” Avail stared at the planked floor, recording this moment as the most unbelievable. “I don’t understand how this happened. How did this happen?” She had cashed in all her energy. It was a wonder how the weight of this catastrophe didn’t cause her to collapse again. The woman dragged a stool up for her to sit. Tilting her head upward, she bit her bottom lip, and exhaled.

“The Takens desire a world where everyone can be a Manifestor. But the logic behind it is horribly misconstrued. Manifestors create, but Watchers…they are meant to protect the legacy of imagination. They nurture it and praise it. They are not meant to look at Manifestors as Gods, neither should they be view as worshippers. The job as Watchers is to make imagination immortal. Manifestors embrace creation, but Watchers make it a legacy. Do you understand, Avail?

“What would be the value of imagination, without Watchers? And if everyone is a Manifestor, how would their creations be unique and diverse? It’d be no different than breathing, if everyone is the same.”

“So how do we fix it?” Avail’s patience was no longer with her.

“You must return to that world, and surrender yourself.” The woman couldn’t even look the her in the eyes anymore. “Surrender yourself and the orb.”

“That will never happen, and you know that.”

            The woman’s frustration mimicked Avail’s. “The orb has its own judgement. It will know to do if it is in the wrong hands.”

“So, I surrender it to the dominating race, and they get what they want. Everything you just preached against, is what they obtain.”

“That world…it cannot be saved by just you. You must let the orb pass its own judgment.”

            Disgust masked Avail’s face. The willingness of this woman to destroy that world nauseated her. Avail wanted to vomit, but she couldn’t tell if it was because she was that angry or that disgusted. She analyzed the woman’s demeanor, identifying that even she was grossed out by her own words.

            “So, I’m supposed to trust that this object will just…make the right decision?” Pride made Avail choke on her words, but she spat them out regardless. “Are you sure there is no other way?”

“Surrendering it is the only way. If there was another way, I would’ve told you already.” The old woman responded, guiding the orb towards her, while Avail’s thoughts raced more rapidly than the frantic traffic outside. “Once you surrender it, you and any other survivors will return to this dimension.”

            She, heavily reluctant, grasped the darkening orb, noticing that it was worsening as time went by. “How do I get back?” She asked, never taking her eyes off the world in her hands.

“How did you get here?”

            Flashbacks of her turmoil and grief flooded Avail’s mind. She remembered screaming out of grief and pain, but she was not hurting like before. Rather, she held a forceful resolve that was just as extreme.

“Cover your ears.”

 

            She did not need sound to validate that she was releasing an ear-splitting noise. Her validation was the success of her travel, when she returned back to her previous position of this world; kneeling in her grief, next to her “friend”.

“When did you…how did you get that?” Cameron did not need a face to show how terror stricken he was. He staggered away from Avail. “I thought the orb was a mere myth. Only they can hold this world in their hands.”

            Avail rose onto her feet, bringing the darkened orb to her chest. She could feel how cemented her face had become, unable to form any expressions. “I don’t know what you mean by ‘they’. Worst of all, I don’t even know what I am.” Her head tilted downward at the object she cradled, allowing her eyes to say their final goodbyes. “But when I see the people I love living without souls, I realize that what I am doesn’t matter. All that matters, is what I am supposed to do.”

“What does that mean, Avail?” As a last resort, the Taken revealed his face. The desperate face of her closet companion. As if trying to remind her that Cameron was still there.

“I was supposed to surrender the orb to you.”

The Taken cried out, as Avails arms raised the orb above her head. The sky was darker than night, and the Takens were still hollering and galloping in the atmosphere.