by T. A. White
It was like fearing the night simply because of its potential to conceal the monsters. Not that it did, but that it could.
Night’s quiet lasted a long time. Long enough that Tate thought he wouldn’t answer.
Not much. Mostly I remember a room and a beautiful creature who was just like me. Only better. Stronger. With a pure soul that couldn’t be tainted or twisted. No matter what was done to her she never gave in. Not like I did.
“What happened to her?”
Night looked away. They waited until she gave birth and then took her away. I never saw her again.
Tate’s lip parted. “Could she be asleep?”
No. She’s dead. Night padded away from Tate as Grandmaster Keel stepped into the cavern. I don’t know what Christopher said to you to make you question yourself but to me this matter is easy. The Ijiri murdered the mother of my children. They destroyed my light in the dark. They are monsters and killers.
Tate looked from Night to the statues of the Saviors, her feelings complicated.
Don’t lose track of what matters, Tate. This world is filled with gray and was fucked up long before we returned to it. We’re not wrong to protect those we care about.
“Even if it means killing others?”
Night stopped and looked at her. Would you have to kill them if they weren’t trying to take your life?
Tate tilted her face towards the ceiling and closed her eyes. That was right. This person who questioned every move she made wasn’t her.
Matters were complicated but they were also simple. Protect what mattered. Leave everything else for later.
Tate moved toward where Night waited.
The grandmaster’s gaze was enigmatic as it strayed toward the empty alcove and the pitiful number of offerings there before returning to Tate. Whatever he thought was well hidden, his expression holding the peace and self-assurance she’d expect in a holy man.
“Lady Winters, this way, if you would.” He gestured to the door that would lead them into the private area of the temple. A place where the general public wasn’t allowed to trespass unless invited.
How times had changed. Tate had only visited the inner sanctum of the guardians once. She’d been uninvited and when her presence was discovered it had threatened to create a political incident that could very well have cost her, her head.
Night didn’t betray any unease as they stepped past the door into a large corridor. Wooden beams spread out like branches of a tree, supporting the arch of the stone ceiling. Countless murals were painted throughout, the warm tones of the beams contrasting with the scenes of battles and images of the Saviors interspersed between them.
The guardians had taken something that should have been dank and depressing and turned it into a scene that wouldn’t be out of place in the palace.
The inner temple was so beautiful it was a pity that most would never be able to enjoy it. Only those who’d pledged their lives to the Saviors, and a chosen few, ever got the chance to enter these hallowed halls.
No one spoke as the grandmaster led them deeper into the temple. The halls gradually grew less ornate and plainer until finally they stopped in front of a wall that Tate recognized.
What’s wrong?
Tate didn’t immediately answer as she fixed the grandmaster with a look. “Why lead us here?”
“The information you asked for is considered one of the most sensitive secrets of our sect. It cannot be revealed without certain safety measures being put into place and this is the most secure place under my authority,” he said with a placid expression.
“Not too secure, since Christopher knew about it.”
Night had a displeased expression as he watched the two of them. He was even less enthusiastic about being kept in the dark than Tate, if that was possible.
Tate lifted her hand, her fingers hovering just off the wall.
At first glance it looked almost indistinguishable from every other wall in this section. Tate suspected that was by design.
“Watch and follow,” Tate told Night.
She pressed her hand against the wall, gritting her teeth at the uncomfortable feeling of the wall resisting before it relented. Her arm disappeared up to her elbow. Steeling herself, Tate took a step forward. It was like pushing through a wall of semi-solidified honey.
The effort needed to keep moving forward wasn’t much, but Tate couldn’t shake the idea of getting stuck halfway through no matter how many times she did this.
The experience only lasted a few seconds. The room she found herself in wasn’t big. Every wall was covered with paintings that were more lifelike than anything else she’d seen in the empire. Tables were stacked with countless books and paper. Relics neatly stored in glass cases.
Most surprising was the fact that Tate wasn’t alone in the room. Three others awaited her. The Duke of Spiritly, Roslyn, and Vale.
Of the three, only Roslyn seemed off balance due to the painting they were all studying intently. One of which Tate was very familiar with.
Tate gave it a brief glance, noting Jax with his arm slung over her shoulder. Kenneth, Trace, Suze, and others arranged around her. Tate’s gaze caught on Nathan’s face.
The moment was broken as Night leapt through the wall with a low yowl. He hugged the ground upon landing, the fur along his back standing straight up. His tail puffed up to three times its normal size.
Tate regarded him with a quirk of her lips. “Enjoy your trip?”
Night snarled at her. Laugh all you want. I’ll have my revenge.
“Your reaction was worth a thousand times the retaliation.”
Night lifted a lip, showing her a sharp fang. His annoyance at her was soon forgotten as he became aware of their surroundings. His eyes didn’t move from the images as Keel stepped through the wall.
Tate aimed a hard look at the other man. “You broke your promise.”
Keel didn’t react outwardly, his expression remaining calm and peaceful. “The Duke of Spiritly refused to share his resources if he was excluded from the matter. It was my judgment that you would prefer his cooperation over maintaining your secret. If I was wrong, I do apologize.”
What burned was that the grandmaster was correct in his analysis of Tate’s priorities. The situation was such that personal preferences didn’t matter as much as results.
The duke had information she needed which meant certain allowances must be made.
Granted, the duke and Roslyn also knew Tate’s connection with the Saviors, but Keel hadn’t known that.
Tate gave Keel a sharp smile. “Aren’t you the smart one? Taking advantage of events to push your agenda in the direction you want.”
Keel inclined his head as if he thought her words were a compliment.
Night wasn’t in the mood to be as kind as Tate, striking out without warning. Keel yelped and tripped as Night’s claws shredded the bottom of his robes. Taking advantage of the fact Keel was now on his level, Night perched on the other’ man’s chest. He stared down at the grandmaster from a distance of only inches.
Tate had been privy to such scenes before, only, every other time it had been a cub doing the perching and the person being perched on didn’t look like they were seconds from wetting themselves.
The exchange that took place was silent, giving Tate no clue what Night was saying. After a short while, he stood and prowled away, leaving the grandmaster to pick himself up off the ground.
Night ignored Tate’s questioning gaze as he leapt onto one of the glass casings, paying no attention to the priceless relic inside.
“Want to tell me what that was about?” Tate asked him.
Nothing important.
Tate narrowed her eyes at him before letting it go. Whatever that was about, she knew he was simply protecting their interests.
“Show me what you found,” Tate ordered.
With one eye on Night, Vale rummaged through several stacks of books. “After what you shared, I went through our records to find an
ything referencing the Creators and their resting spots.”
He handed her a book that looked as new as the day it had been made, its pages crisp and shiny. What Tate found more interesting was the fact it was also a relic—though the rest probably didn’t realize it.
Tate interrupted when Vale looked like he was about to translate for her. “It says—I tracked the traitor for two years before I lost his trail.”
Vale sent her a sheepish look. “I forgot you could read Ancient.”
“Perks of it being my first language.” Tate pulled the book closer to her, recognizing the handwriting even after all this time. It was undeniably Jax’s.
Tate bent closer to read.
Where the forces converge, and this world meets the next. I don’t know how I didn’t see it before. I don’t know it’s original purpose but it is clear that it is a massive energy source. If I were to modify the Aurelia’s engines with the Ijiri’s technology I could lead us home. We would no longer be stuck on this planet.
Several things keep me from that action. Decades have passed since we were brought down. There is no way to tell how the war ended or if there’d be anything to return to. There is also the fact the Ijiri’s experiments have swelled our population beyond what the ship could sustain. To say nothing of how our people would react to the differences now inherent in many of us.
For now, I’ve refrained from sharing my findings with the others. Without her presence to steady us, we are too easily swayed by our own greed. Another war would likely break out between the factions if they learned of this.
Tate read the rest of the page and then the next few but found nothing else pertaining to the Rift or the Ijiri.
Tate lowered the book, finally understanding why Nathan had targeted the Rift. It was essentially a giant battery, drawing from the other side. What wasn’t written was the likely consequences of using such a power source.
It would take a significant amount of power to lift the Aurelia from her grave. Such an act would destroy the delicate balance between the two worlds. Not just Ilith’s world, but this one too would be placed in jeopardy. A catastrophic failure on both sides could result, laying waste to a good chunk of the planet.
The more immediate problem was the city of Aurelia.
The ship Aurelia didn’t just crash land. From what Jax had shared, the crew phased it to pass through matter. It was likely the origin of the extensive tunnels under the city. Removing it would require it to rise from the ground, destroying everything above.
This was what Christopher must have meant when he wrote that when one Aurelia falls the other rises.
It even made sense for Nathan to go after Ai. As the person who controlled all of the Aurelia’s auxiliary systems, he’d need her to have any chance of implementing his plan.
But why did Nathan want to raise the ship? That’s what Tate didn’t understand.
Returning to their home after all this time made absolutely no sense. Anything he hoped to find would be long gone.
“Anything about the Apportens Mortis or the Aurelia itself?”
“My family has a story said to have been passed down since Jaxon Kuno’s time,” the duke said. “It’s something his daughter recorded on his deathbed.”
Tate made a gesture for him to continue when he hesitated.
He withdrew a fist-sized sphere from his pocket and held it out to her. “This is the last thing he left to us. No one in our family has ever been able to meld with it nor do we fully understand its purpose. The instructions he left said to only pass this to Tatum Allegra Winters or a worthy successor in the event one of the Creators pierced the veil.”
Tate reached out to take the sphere from him. “A pandora’s box.”
“You know what it is?”
Night edged closer as Tate brought the sphere up to her face. Resembling a crystal-like substance, the core was gold with tiny iridescent scales that shimmered with the colors of green and azure trapped in its depths.
Tate couldn’t help her wonder as she turned it over, watching the light glimmer on the scales.
“I should. I was with him the first time we encountered one.” And it had been her idea to adapt them to their use—an idea Jax had told her was impossible. Looked like that had changed sometime after her sleep.
“I would be very interested to learn more.”
Tate lowered the sphere. “Would you now?”
The duke gave her a bland smile. “You forget this concerns my family’s own history. Jaxon was a part of our childhood. You could say we feel an immense curiosity and possessiveness toward anything pertaining to him.”
Tate let out a soft sound. “Did you know Jax was an orphan? At least by today’s standards. In our day, we were what was called creche babies. It’s how they referred to those children commissioned by the government.”
Ostensibly, children were born to keep the population up since many didn’t have the time, or want the responsibility, of raising children. Technology in that place had advanced enough that humans were no longer necessary for the procreation of the species. Those the government raised inherited the debt upon their coming of age. Most were sent to the military while those who showed promise were sent for further education in the sciences.
Almost all of Tate’s squad had similar backgrounds. The natural born tended to avoid service requirements.
“I think he would have found this world’s obsession with lineage quite amusing.”
“There are stories, yes,” the duke acknowledged.
It wasn’t entirely surprising the stance Jax’s descendants took regarding their lineage. Being related to him was something to be proud of even if the sentiment would have been completely foreign to Tate and the rest back then.
Besides, Tate couldn’t bring herself to hate their way of thinking. Jax was remembered even all these years later. There was a certain comfort in that.
Tate refocused on the sphere, putting aside such unimportant matters. She would have dearly loved to know exactly how Jax managed to create this. A pandora’s box was considered powerful because of the potential that lay inside. No one ever quite knew what would be waiting for them if they opened it.
To form a sphere, you had to sacrifice a small bit of yourself. It was why they were so rare. The Ijiri weren’t known for being altruistic and humans were too fragile to summon the power needed to shape one of these.
The other reason was because not many would want to gamble that they’d be able to obtain something useful in the endeavor. The pandora’s box was as capable of imparting a blessing as a curse depending on the person and how it was used.
Tate pushed her senses into the sphere, wanting to know who Jax had used to create something this powerful.
Jax’s own essence she expected. The essence of the others made her freeze in place. It had been centuries but how could she not know their names. Suze, Trace, Kenneth. Every one of them was present in the sphere Tate held. Had imparted a bit of themselves.
Their voices whispered words of apology and hope for her future. The goodbyes they never got to exchange and the regret over how their actions had hurt her. Beneath it all was a conviction and desire for Tate’s happiness.
Tears spilled down her cheeks as a bittersweet feeling filled her. After everything, they still had faith in who she would become. That she’d come out the other end alright.
Their message soothed the sting of betrayal Tate had steadfastly ignored, telling herself it was impossible to feel betrayed by people she didn’t even remember. Then the memories had started to come, and it became impossible to reconcile events with the people she’d once known.
With this, she could tell they genuinely thought they were making the best decision for a friend who wasn’t in her right state of mind. Watching someone slowly lose their mind was one of the worst experiences a person could have. Doubly so when you saw that person as a sister and comrade-in-arms. They’d done the only thing they could think of at the time—even though it w
as hard. Even though it likely felt like a betrayal.
The pandora’s box brought closure. Something Tate never thought she’d have.
“It seems my faith in you wasn’t misplaced after all,” Tate said softly.
It wasn’t easy creating something like this. An impossible existence that would evolve to meet the changing circumstances. How long must it have taken Jax and the others to give life to the sphere? They would have needed to fill it with their personal memories and essence on a near constant basis for years.
It wasn’t something that could have been done if they were as divided as records and Jax’s avatar led her to believe.
It was their final gift to her—and it had arrived when she needed it most.
Is it a weapon? Night asked with his gaze fixed on the sphere Tate held.
“Of a sort.” Tate glanced at the duke. “It looks like you’re going to get your wish after all. I can help your daughter meld with an artifact.”
Tate had thought carefully about this decision. It burned to give him what he wanted. Roslyn was perfect the way she was. She shouldn’t have to change herself to earn the duke and her family’s approval.
But of those present, Roslyn was the most appropriate recipient. Tate and the duke already had relics. While it was possible to stack them and have more than one, you had to ensure the relics didn’t clash with each other. A bad synchronicity would wreak havoc on the body. Without being able to predict what form the thing waiting inside the sphere would take, it would be inadvisable to take it for herself.
In a way, this was better anyway. Even if Tate hadn’t had a relic.
Ilith made her powerful and nearly indestructible. The past and present had taught her it was pointless to survive on her own. Better to strengthen others so they could stand beside her rather than exist alone.
Roslyn also had the advantage of being Jax’s descendant. In all ways that mattered, she was the most worthy of whatever waited inside.