Page 90 of Brawler
His beginning.
The wind roared in his ears, feathers blazing with starlight, when the sky itself seemed to shiver. The world bent, time folding in on itself, and from that fathomless dark came a voice, vast, resonant, older than any war. “At last, you understand us.”
It wasn’t one voice but many, layered and endless, male and female, child and elder, whisper and thunder, all braided into a single resonance that pressed against his bones. Not divine. A chorus stretched past breaking, human tones warped until they became something other.
Every feather on his body trembled, not from fear but recognition. This was no dream. No phantom. Was this the Veil itself, alive, aware, speaking?
Flash opened his eyes. The hood stayed low, the figure wrapped in pale green shadow, edges blurred as though it wasn’t entirely bound to flesh. The cloak shimmered faintly, threads of light running like veins through the fabric, then fading as if swallowed by the dark.
It stood too still, weightless in a way no living thing could be. Grounded, yes, but his feet left no impression, no shift of balance, as if gravity were a courtesy it didn’t quite need.
“So, where am I, exactly?”
“Your body is in Walter Reed, Bethesda. Your mind is caught between.”
“Between what?”
“Between the Veil and Reality.”
He snorted. “Limbo. Perfect.” He shifted. “Who are you?”
“To know us, you must first understand the Veil itself.” The timbre of his voice was ancient and charmed, almost musical in the way an orchestra’s instruments moved into a collective of sound.
“Long ago, there was no Veil. Magic and men shared one sky. Then came the Great War, burning across the world. To guard against another terrible conflict, the magic-wielders withdrew, removing themselves, and all enchantment went with them. Their departure split the world like a wound. One-half became Reality. The other, hidden, became the Veil. We are its Keepers, tasked by them to guard the scar.”
Flash blew out a breath. “And folks, that’s why reality bites.”
A ripple moved through the voices, not anger but something closer to patience. “Even in jest, you remind us why we reached for you. Lechuza chose well.”
The name landed hard, a weight in his chest, the aching brush of her presence left him shaken. Now the Keeper said it like prophecy.
Flash’s mouth tilted in a crooked smirk, but the words hit like a round to the chest. “Yeah, well….” The smile slipped, voice dropping rough and low. “She lives in my body and my heart. There’s no way I would ever abandon her. SEALs never leave a man behind. We finish our missions no matter the cost. If she’s the price I have to pay, I won’t only die willingly.” He looked up at the hooded figure, eyes burning. “I’ll die happy.”
The figure lowered the hood slowly, as if Flash’s vow had earned him the privilege of seeing behind the shadow. Palegreen fabric slipped back inch by inch until darkness fell away. Beneath it wasn’t a single face but a shifting continuum, flickering in and out like overlapping transparencies. For an instant, Flash glimpsed a thousand lives layered in one body.
The chorus softened, a low resonance threaded with something like regret, laced with awe. “You continue to surprise and delight us. Our face is yours alone to behold.”
Flash bowed slightly in acknowledgment.
“You are the only one we have ever pulled against his will. All others came to us by choice, by invitation. We broke our own law to reach you, and yet you are understanding, ready for our task, ready to take up the burden. Do not think we did it lightly.” The chorus faltered for the briefest instant, as if ashamed of its own necessity. “We achieved no satisfaction in it. But without you, the scar would already be bleeding open.”
Flash nodded slowly. “I get the gravity, and the reason. It wasn’t pleasant what you pushed me to see. But…goddamn. Seeing my dad. Talking to him again. That did something to me. It cracked my grief loose, and I’m grateful for that. If you need my forgiveness, you have it.” The silence deepened, heavy as stone. Flash exhaled, restless, the weight of all the fantastical stories still rattling through his skull. He couldn’t help himself. “So, tell me.” His mouth curved. “Unicorns. Are they real?”
The cloaked figure’s answer came without hesitation. “They were. Once.” A faint ripple, like amusement buried under centuries, brushed through the chorus. “If you enter the Veil, you can see for yourself.”
Flash narrowed his eyes. “Oh, I see what you’re doing. Wouldn’t that constitute as manipulation? Isn’t that against the rules?”
This time, the Keeper chuckled outright, the sound rusty, like laughter unused for eternities. “We see why Lechuza considersyou a special individual. We could speak with you for eons and not mine all that you are.”
Flash smirked. “I’m special all right. Unicorns…loved by more than just little girls.”
“Indeed,” the Keeper said wryly. “There is never any shame with love.”
Flash laughed softly.
“You stand at the edge of what we need. We do not make you what you are. We call you to it.”
The words seared into him like fire across bone, binding, undeniable. He felt the weight of it, the gravity of oath.
