Reborn

Linne Elizabeth
Salt Flats
Published in
5 min readJun 5, 2020
Photo by Bryce Evans on Unsplash

The volcanic stone wall clung to my cream linen robe like velcro as I descended the narrow stairwell. Brother Heth’s padded footsteps guided me deeper toward Twilight’s Reach. Tonight, I would be reborn as a Brother. My stomach knotted at the thought.

Forcing my nerves aside, I gasped as the stairway opened into a cyclical-shaped cavern. It extended higher than my eyes could see in the orb of light from Heth’s candle. Twilight’s Reach remained sealed from the outside world with the exception of a pentagonal hole a couple hundred feet above the floor.

Heth’s gravelly voice echoed off the stone wall. “Do you remember the words to the rite, boy?”

My response bounced with emphasis on each step to catch up to him. “Una est ad vitam offer: unam animam do. Ut simul nos resurgemus.”

Heth had taught me the correct pronunciation my first day at Terminus, then he challenged me to translate it. With a scrap of paper clutched in my seven-year-old hand, I burst into his study, and shouted, “One life to offer; one life I give. We rise together as one.”

Eleven years after translating the phrase, it would be my verbal contract.

He grunted his approval.

I smiled at his hunched back.

At the base of the stairway, my feet sank into the fine white sand; anticipation nipped where the crisp fabric of the robe brushed my skin. My life commitment was a small gift compared to the comforts of life the Brotherhood granted me over the years. I owed them for everything from the clothes on my back to the food in my belly, yet something about this ritual invited unease. With measured steps toward my future I exhaled, loosening the nerves still coiled in my stomach.

Bomb blasts thrummed in the distance, vibrating the natural turret. I braced the gritty wall with a white-knuckled grip. As an acolyte of Terminus, it was easy to forget the war raging at the border.

BOOM.

I shut my eyes against the terror that clawed at my mind, but memories flooded my senses. Wandering war-torn streets as a child. Days spent shambling through rubble to a chorus of moans. Nights crouched in whatever hole or crevice would protect me.

A tap on my forearm pulled me back to the present. Releasing my grip on the stones one finger at a time, I breathed the musty air. Slow in. Slow out. With a decreasing heart rate, I followed Heth to the altar. The natural spotlight from the window had faded to burnished gold, cloaking everything beyond the altar in inky shadows. I entered the circle of the day’s dying light and shivered.

A cacophony of hushed voices filled the cavern and created a wave of anxiety so powerful my knees went weak.

“The brothers are here?”

Heth’s eyes narrowed in mild contempt. I bowed my head. His knobby finger guided my chin up to meet his softened expression. “A coalition of fifteen.”

It had been years since a delegation this large gathered in a single location. They came for me. Silent sentinels offering their support. I shrank under the weight of their unseen eyes. The smooth edge of the altar butted against my thigh. I leaned against the solid surface, momentarily bolstered in the face of uncertainty.

Heth was too busy adjusting his robe to scold me for being indecorous. He turned in a slow circle to address the room. “Hail, brothers.”

A bass voice chorus reverberated. “Hail!”

“It has been too long, my brothers.” Mumbled assent rippled throughout the cavern. “On this Autumnal Equinox, we gather to accept a life pledge.” Heth extended his arm toward me, then gestured to the altar.

Gooseflesh covered my body. I disrobed and sat. Gritting my teeth against the icy bite of the marble slab on my bare flesh, I laid on my back.

“Lain bare on the altar, it is the gift of loyalty. Do you surrender to our cause?”

Heth’s question sank into me like damp air in my robe. Thud, whoosh. Thud, whoosh. My heart drowned out all sound. This is what I wanted, but the words of the rite stuck in my throat.

Heth’s weak voice held a warning. “Boy!”

Lining the darkened spaces of the cavern, the Brotherhood’s presence held an electric charge of expectation. By joining with them, I would fight to protect the future from the war that orphaned me. It was my dream to end the battle and restore a peaceful life.

With great effort Heth exhaled, as if he was counting to ten in his head. He leaned close to my ear and whispered, “The greatest form of gratitude is loyalty.”

Scuffs and shuffles penetrated the silence. The brotherhood waited.

I cleared my throat, and the words tumbled from me in a rush. “Una est ad vitam offer: unam animam do. Ut simul nos resurgemus.”

A smile lifted Heth’s aged face, then twisted to something sinister.

Pain lashed through me in a sharp strike. Bright light filled my vision. My muscles tensed. Gasping for air, I lay flat, relishing the cool stone on my sweat-soaked flesh.

“It begins.” Heth stood above my head. His once tired eyes widened with palpable excitement.

I followed his gaze down the length of my body. Color leached from my toes, leaving them ashen and lifeless. I tried to sit up, but Heth pinned my shoulders down. The gnarled fingers straightened, and his transparent skin filled opaque with an olive tone.

He leaned down. “Your loyalty is everything.” His sagging cheeks smoothed to the unmarred face of a younger man. Snow-white hair deepened to thick chestnut brown curls. Once my senior, Heth became my equal.

One life to offer, one life to give. Those words damned me.

A pearlescent mist effused from my limbs. My energy waned as once vibrant flesh faded to a sickly alabaster sheen. A guttural moan escaped my lips.

Shadows crept closer. No, not shadows. Cloaked men. The hooded circle of brothers breathed in unison. Molten heat seared my skin.

I screamed.

This was not my rebirth; it was theirs.

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Linne Elizabeth
Salt Flats

Linne received a BA in English from Brigham Young University. Short stories are her passion. Follow her on Facebook @LinneElizabeth, Instagram @library4one.