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How could that even happen?

Antares was sitting in the laboratory, next to an almost deformed figure silently lying on a bed – or a working bench, but at least Antares called that a bed. He was there the whole night, and the day, and another night. He locked himself inside the heavy sliding door and anyone else beyond out. Others at first were simply thinking that he was probably too demoralised by the defeat of his proudest creation, but after some time they could tell something was not really right – not the kind of thing they would ever expect from him. That was Antares, they knew it, the distant and rigorous, or even arrogant as Marfic would put it, lead mechanic, who resisted the idea of showing even the slightest trace of personal sentiment. They would not ask him a single word about this. They should not anyway.

The body’s own inner fragments were popping through the skin, wires were entangled inside out, and coldness leaked from the core was freezing anything coming near it, including the face which had already been so pale that those machines beneath were vaguely visible. Yet there was no expression of pain or struggle, those eyes looked peacefully closed with tiny frost condensed on the lashes, so delicate that it was almost an artistic sculpture.

Antares could not believe what he had just heard. He rushed from his own room to the mechanics’ workshop in no time. He wished they were just telling a bad joke, a really bad one, assuming someone somehow managed to put together his guts to fool Antares. But all he could find was Unukalhai’s body – or debris, lying on the cold floor of the workshop. All the mechanical pieces he had painstakingly designed and assembled like a puzzle were now scattering around misplaced. His mind was frozen, just like the cold air around the machine creeping down his body and fell into flakes and shards.

Why wasn’t I there?

Unlike many other clanmates, he was born in this clan to two extremely powerful mages. This was his place, he felt his fate was bounded to this piece of frozen land. He had never even travelled far beyond the boundary of ice – with all the knowledge brought here by various colleagues now his clanmates, he mastered the art of building machines on his own. And with all his loyalty and determination, he established his role as the lead mechanic. His clan, his knowledge, and his machines were everything he would ever treasure, and there would not be a single second he would hesitate before braving his life for them. That must be a lonely responsibility, he had always believed, for love itself was too abstract a sentiment which he could not see how it would ever manifest itself on any actual being.

All till he realised how proud he was with the creation of Unukalhai, the machine wielding the icy spear; the figure forbidden of all earthly sentiments; the weapon which would give in everything it had in the minute of order, his order.

That was the doll he would call his favourite.

How poor could that be if Unukalhai could not even understand its own loyalty?

Antares was confused. It was not exactly sympathy. But the longer he had spent thinking about it, the more hesitant he was towards deploying Unukalhai into actual combats. He almost started to feel the machine was too perfect that it seemed to be abstract and unreal, much like his love towards the clan and things.

He felt all his strength were suddenly drawn away from him. He called in others to move the broken machine onto his workbench. For a moment he thought he could never look at those distorted remains, and he could not figure out how he would continue with the rest of his time. Nor in this life had he ever realised he had a heart so clearly, and he still could not find out why. He asked for a moment and locked himself in.

‘If I have ever granted you free will, would you run for your own life?’

He did not expect for an answer, and in a second he recognised how horrible that thought could be. But that was no relief, he knew what he was wishing for, and that answer would not have done anyone good, if there were any. He sighed, slowly dragged himself towards the doll’s bed. Antares noticed how he had never come so close to looking at Unukalhai’s face. The darkened left eye was invisible with the eyes closed, stiffened machines no longer gave off bizarre light beneath the skin, the facial features were so beautifully sculpted that to the bare eyes of an observer, it was just in a dream.

…That he was almost alive.

Antares could not help but tried to touch his face, and even through his glove he could feel that his fingers were gradually frozen together with his skin. The longer his hand stayed, the closer they fused. Even for a brief moment, he wondered how Unukalhai would react if he were not out of consciousness, if he were not in pieces. And what if he could actually think and feel? Would he still listen to me like this, or was he simply forced to follow orders because of my programming?

Would he ever empathise with me the way I did for him?

Unukalhai, his strongest war construct, suddenly became so fragile and delicate in his eyes, and he could not sort out his own thoughts. He swiftly withdrew his hand as if it was burned by the blazing flame. He started to walk around the room anxiously, trying to think straight, but every time his vision would ultimately fall onto Unukalhai’s face – and then the body that was broken into countless pieces. Brutal crackles and icy fragments all turned into jarring noises piercing through Antares’ head, choked him up a little more each time.

And finally he stopped in front of Unukalhai, again, and took off his cape – the symbol of the Chief Mechanic, and gently covered his body up. Now he did not look so cold, Antares thought, taking a deep breath. He then stiffly opened his arms, grabbed Unukalhai’s body and pulled him into his cuddle. Every single sentiment he had felt over his life was breaking out, and this time not even Antares could stop his own tears from freezing with his favourite deadly doll.