I Hear Them

Nobody can hear a scream in the vacuum of space, or so they say. Clearly, they have never met me. I hear it relentlessly. The cries of scared children, the woeful lamentation of lives cut short, and the wail of those left behind to mourn. Some days the weight of their grief is too much to handle, and I’m left bedridden. It’s gotten worse as we’ve come closer. The screeching bleeds into my dreams, enveloping my fondest memories in a macabre shadow. I can’t help but wonder how long it’ll be before my screams become part of the cacophony.

I wasn’t always like this. On my home planet I was hailed the reincarnation of a famed oracle. From a young age I age I was treated like royalty. I was educated by private tutors, had the best food, and expected to hold a position in the high court. I was satiated save for loneliness. I had no companion to keep me company and grew jealous of the happy children I could see playing outside of my window. But it was my duty to remain out of the public eye, only on display at the most special of events.

I was ten when my planet’s government collapsed. Too young to understand what was happening, I was sent off planet for my protection. I’ve not seen my family since, though sometimes I hear the screams of my brother among the dissonance.

The safest planet at the time was hidden between two asteroid belts. It’s been so long I can no longer remember the planet’s name, but it provided me with the most enjoyable years of my life. The climate was favorable, and it was far enough away that my family could be sure no one would come looking for me. They were partially correct, no one came looking for me. At least not about that.

I lived in the back of spice shop owned by a timeworn man. His face showed decades worth of heartbreak and anguish, and his arms were covered in scars from the interplanetary wars. He assured me they caused him no pain, but by his wincing I could tell he was lying. I didn’t say anything as he made sure I was properly looked after. He extended my education by including alchemy and medicine, but it wasn’t until I met his son, Azrael, that I learned of the ritual.

In retrospect, Azrael was cold, apathetic, and maniacal, but at the time I was blinded by his charming and charismatic exterior. He could transform silver to gold, weeds to roses, and sorrow to ecstasy. He knew from the first time we met that I possessed a similar ability. Azrael assured me I could be the most powerful being in existence, so I worked hard, eager to gain his approval.

It took until I was seventeen for me to see Them. They were everywhere, around corners, in the shadows. They didn’t interact with me much at first, They loomed in the peripheral, always watching, even in my dreams. I couldn’t tell you exactly what They were. Some kind of shadow monster that invoked fear every time I saw one, a cold sweat would drip down my back on even the most temperate days. It seemed as though they were an amalgamation of all my fears.

It was especially cold one night and the old man was ill, his fever grew by the hour, refusing to break. I sat next to his bed, wetting his forehead and repeating prayers I learned in childhood. Azrael had just left for a long journey and our nearest neighbor was too far for me to get help. As the old man’s breath slowed, tears clouded my eyes. I laid my head down next to his body and wept for what felt like hours. When at last I raised my head, They were standing all around me. I shook with fear as One reached down and put a spindly hand on my shoulder. As soon as It touched me, I heard the screams.