forward, barreling down the streets of Krakelyn, the slave trader diving theatrically to the dirt to avoid getting smucked.
8.
Traylor and I have a destination in mind; the only problem is that the slave trader will likely know it’s where we're going.
We don't have much time.
With Traylor laughing hysterically, I pilot our newly acquired vehicle over the Mainstreet Bridge, corpses on the road acting as speed bumps that send us bouncing in our seats. We reach the outskirts of Krakelyn in a matter of minutes, the Manse coming into view at the top of a wooded hill.
Our destination.
For a moment, I'm worried that the massive wrought iron gate at the driveway entrance will block our path, but when we get there we find it already on the ground, torn from its hinges.
This doesn't bode well.
I race recklessly up the long drive, the Manse hurtling into view seconds later. I carve the wheel and guide the vehicle across the front lawn, chewing up chunks of sod as I go, bringing us around the back of the building and out of sight from the street. I park right on top of the rear patio and, before we're even climbing out, the house servants have appeared, pouring out of the Manse.
"Juno!" one of the women exclaims. It's Ryonyx. The sight of the kindly old woman warms my heart. "Thank the gods! You've returned to us!" Ryonyx's face is a boil of tumors, all looking fit to burst. She grabs Traylor and me both in a hearty embrace, caressing and marveling at our still unblemished faces, then pulls away. "Your Father has been sick with worry!"
"Is he..." I begin.
"He is well," Ryonyx replies. "I will take you to him now." Relief floods me and we enter the house.
"What happened here?" I ask. The house is a disaster, overturned furniture and our personal effects strewn everywhere.
"The Children of Mutanit y," Ryonyx replies. “Your Father's former Deacons. When the, um, Final Judgment occurred, they disavowed the old religion. They now believe the True Body Plan to be an abomination, and mutations to be the will of the gods."
"Did all of them turn?" I ask, stupefied, though I'd already surmised much of what Ryonyx is telling me.
"Not all of them," a husky baritone answers.
I whirl to see my Father ambling toward us through the devastated kitchen. He's followed by another man whom I've never met before. He's handsome–maybe five years my senior–but projects an air of authority that makes him seem older. His face is stern, expression unreadable behind cold green eyes. His face is covered in a harsh, red rash, but it’s hardly the worst I've seen since returning to Krakelyn.
" Father!" Traylor and I both exclaim at once, greeting him with open arms. I'm so happy to see him I hardly notice the sores on his face and the smell emanating from them.
He grunts at our embrace, allowing it for a moment, then pulls away with a rare smile. "It is good to see you both," he says, the pride evident in his tone. "You truly are resourceful to have lasted this long, Juno."
I blush. Father rarely compliments anyone. "What happened here?" I ask, glancing around at the devastation again. "Why would the Deacons do this?"
"Not the Deacons," my Father shakes his head. "Not anymore. Most of them have joined the Children of Mutanity. When I refused to lead them on their quest to rid the world of the True Body Plan, they sacked the Manse, urging me to reconsider. As High Deacon, they want me to legitimize their fool crusade. They will be back in a few days for my, ahem, formal reply."
"What will you do?" I gasp, fretful.
"I don't know," Father replies, uncertainty coloring his voice. It's not often my Father doesn't have an answer for a given problem. "At the moment, I'm more worried about you two." He gestures at Traylor and I. "You two just might be the last pure humans left in the whole world!"
"You can't know that!" I interject. "That object I found on the beach... It couldn't possibly have affected the entire
8.
Traylor and I have a destination in mind; the only problem is that the slave trader will likely know it’s where we're going.
We don't have much time.
With Traylor laughing hysterically, I pilot our newly acquired vehicle over the Mainstreet Bridge, corpses on the road acting as speed bumps that send us bouncing in our seats. We reach the outskirts of Krakelyn in a matter of minutes, the Manse coming into view at the top of a wooded hill.
Our destination.
For a moment, I'm worried that the massive wrought iron gate at the driveway entrance will block our path, but when we get there we find it already on the ground, torn from its hinges.
This doesn't bode well.
I race recklessly up the long drive, the Manse hurtling into view seconds later. I carve the wheel and guide the vehicle across the front lawn, chewing up chunks of sod as I go, bringing us around the back of the building and out of sight from the street. I park right on top of the rear patio and, before we're even climbing out, the house servants have appeared, pouring out of the Manse.
"Juno!" one of the women exclaims. It's Ryonyx. The sight of the kindly old woman warms my heart. "Thank the gods! You've returned to us!" Ryonyx's face is a boil of tumors, all looking fit to burst. She grabs Traylor and me both in a hearty embrace, caressing and marveling at our still unblemished faces, then pulls away. "Your Father has been sick with worry!"
"Is he..." I begin.
"He is well," Ryonyx replies. "I will take you to him now." Relief floods me and we enter the house.
"What happened here?" I ask. The house is a disaster, overturned furniture and our personal effects strewn everywhere.
"The Children of Mutanit y," Ryonyx replies. “Your Father's former Deacons. When the, um, Final Judgment occurred, they disavowed the old religion. They now believe the True Body Plan to be an abomination, and mutations to be the will of the gods."
"Did all of them turn?" I ask, stupefied, though I'd already surmised much of what Ryonyx is telling me.
"Not all of them," a husky baritone answers.
I whirl to see my Father ambling toward us through the devastated kitchen. He's followed by another man whom I've never met before. He's handsome–maybe five years my senior–but projects an air of authority that makes him seem older. His face is stern, expression unreadable behind cold green eyes. His face is covered in a harsh, red rash, but it’s hardly the worst I've seen since returning to Krakelyn.
" Father!" Traylor and I both exclaim at once, greeting him with open arms. I'm so happy to see him I hardly notice the sores on his face and the smell emanating from them.
He grunts at our embrace, allowing it for a moment, then pulls away with a rare smile. "It is good to see you both," he says, the pride evident in his tone. "You truly are resourceful to have lasted this long, Juno."
I blush. Father rarely compliments anyone. "What happened here?" I ask, glancing around at the devastation again. "Why would the Deacons do this?"
"Not the Deacons," my Father shakes his head. "Not anymore. Most of them have joined the Children of Mutanity. When I refused to lead them on their quest to rid the world of the True Body Plan, they sacked the Manse, urging me to reconsider. As High Deacon, they want me to legitimize their fool crusade. They will be back in a few days for my, ahem, formal reply."
"What will you do?" I gasp, fretful.
"I don't know," Father replies, uncertainty coloring his voice. It's not often my Father doesn't have an answer for a given problem. "At the moment, I'm more worried about you two." He gestures at Traylor and I. "You two just might be the last pure humans left in the whole world!"
"You can't know that!" I interject. "That object I found on the beach... It couldn't possibly have affected the entire
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