Covenants: Anodize (Hymn of the Multiverse Book 9)

by Terra Whiteman

  The maelstromic eye in the sky was gone.

  Laith served tea to the injured scholars. They sat and spoke of things between each other. I didn’t pay much attention, only looked forlornly around the vacant facility grounds.

  Nara was gone. I knew the totem would never return, and that was a heart-wrenching fact to accept. When my attention returned to the group communing at the hearth, all of the scholars’ injuries had faded, miraculously healed by Laith’s tonic.

  Leid appeared next to me. She said nothing, only stared at the flames that licked the ever-bubbling pot. Plumes of effluvia hovered around us. She paid no mind to them, no longer affected. Her coat had gained a new feature: the insignia on the right breast was emblazoned with red fire.

  “Thank you for saving me,” I said.

  Her gaze grew distant. “No thanks necessary. You’re the reason I’m even here right now.”

  Even her voice had changed. No quaver, no humility.

  “We had an arrangement,” I said, a bit uneasy with the cordial exchange. “That’s all.”

  “That’s not all,” she responded.

  I looked down at her, and she up at me.

  “You’re right,” I confessed, unable to lie. It wouldn’t have done any good. She was a higher being now; higher than me. Higher than most.

  She raised her hand and cupped the side of my face. I didn’t move, just stared. “You’re the only being in existence, multiverse or not, that knows who I really am. We can’t pretend away that kind of intimacy, even if we tried. Can we?”

  With that, Leid returned to the group.

  I watched her departure, catching the wary gaze of her husband.

  XXIII

  QAIRA

  FOR THE FIRST TIME IN A WHILE I WAS ABLE to sit around and relax without having to watch my ass, which was nice. I’d realized that the (normally) padded lifestyle of a scholar made me a bit rusty at the never-ending high-stakes—the kind I’d used to mix in water and chug for breakfast, back in my glory days.

  The augur, or wraith, or whatever, kept their distance from us, eventually settling on a seat closest to Laith. They didn’t drink the tea, probably full from sucking that pillar kid dry. God damn, that’d been horrifying to watch.

  I sat beside Zira, and we passed the mug between each other. Every time I’d thought I was good, something else started to hurt and I grabbed it from him again. Both of us were quiet, having heard enough words and noises for the next century. Leid and Laith discussed terms in front of the hearth nearby.

  “You’re the overseer of Eschatis?” asked Leid.

  “There is no overseer,” said Laith. “Dominion over Eschatis is contradictory to its existence.”

  “Then who is fit to discuss the future of this realm?”

  “I am,” she said. “Any wayfarer would be; but I’m here, so let’s chat.”

  Leid nodded. “Suzerain is gone. The effigy has been destroyed. Will the rift close now?”

  “As I’ve already told your scholar, the rift won’t close until the gates have been reactivated. It’ll take time to rebuild the gates; also, it’ll take time to recruit wayfarers that we’ve lost.”

  “How do you recruit them?” asked Leid.

  “Recruiting is the wrong word to use, I suppose,” replied Laith, frowning in thought. “Travelers come and go all the time, though wayfarer positions don’t post that often.”

  “I imagine business’ll be booming now.”

  Laith smiled. “Yes.” Her eyes slid to Zira. “Perhaps one day we’ll be lucky enough to receive someone from your ranks.”

  “Hopefully not, because that means I’ll be dead,” muttered Zira under his breath, to which I smirked.

  Leid tilted her head. “What makes someone capable of crossing into Eschatis?”

  “I don’t know, honestly. Your ilk like to investigate things; maybe that can be your next big mystery to solve.”

  There was a moment of silence as Leid glanced toward the swirling gate. “What can the Court of Enigmus do to help the wayfarers?”

  Oh, look at her go. Networking.

  Laith thought about her question for a minute, then said, “It can help by keeping out those who are not meant to be here until we’ve restored the gates.”

  “Indeed,” said Leid, narrowing her eyes. “We can do that. In turn, I would like to be granted safe passage here, should any of my scholars wish to come and collect data.”

  Laith crinkled her nose. “Why would you need safe passage? And why would you need to collect data?”

  “To solve that next big mystery,” said Leid, her eyes widening to emphasize ‘big’, in jest. “You’ve also just admitted to needing some muscle. You don’t seem to fare well the moment everything goes sideways.” She smiled. “Pun intended.”

  Laith did not like that remark; I could tell by the flinch of her expression. “Done. Does that mean we have the protection of the Court of Enigmus indefinitely?”

  “We can’t treatise with a dominion-less realm,” said Leid. “But if you give me a way to keep in contact, then I will do my best to come when you call.”

  Laith looked around at the ground, then picked up a shard from one of the cairns. “Take this,” she said, offering it to my wife.

  “We have athanasian shards at our laboratory,” said Leid, incredulous.

  “But not one that is charged from my hearth.” Laith kept the offering outstretched. “Go on, take it.”

  Leid did, gingerly tucking it into her pocket. “What will it do when you try to communicate?”

  “I don’t know. I’ve never seen one outside of Eschatis. This will be a learning experience for both of us.”

  “Fair enough.” Leid turned, motioning to us that it was time to leave our seats. We did, in unison. “How do we get out of here?”

  Laith moved to the closest pillar, touching one of the runes. We all watched the swirling abyss beyond the gate clear, revealing the grassy fields of Poekka, TCS. “Let me warn you, scholars. Those of you who haven’t faced your shadows will be forced to do so now. It is prerequisite that every quantum traveler make it through the rebirthing cave before embarking to Eschatis, but since the rules didn’t apply when you arrived, it’ll happen now.”

  It was very clear by the looks we gave each other that none of us were certain whether or not we’d faced our shadows. Actually, two of us were uncertain; I knew I sure as fuck hadn’t. And I didn’t want to, either. I hadn’t taken my prescribed meds for eighteen days. Who knew what kind of mind-fuckery my shadow would manifest?

  But the thought of actual food, booze, and perhaps sex in the foreseeable future made me bite my tongue. All I did was stand there and wait.

  Leid didn’t say farewell, only nodded and proceeded toward the gate. We followed, two feet behind. At the entrance she turned and regarded us, somber. “I’ll see you two on the other side.” Her eyes held mine, and they said something else. ‘You better get through this, motherfucker.’

  I was insulted by that silent command. She had no place looking at me like that. I was never the most ‘susceptible’ to begin with. It’d always been her. She’d hid her issues much better than I ever had; but once the walls came down, she was that screaming, batshit mess we’d seen in the Committee hallway.

  I feared Leid read my mind because her gaze softened, and then she promptly turned and slipped through.

  Zira turned to me. “If for some reason I don’t make it, tell Yahweh—,”

  “For fuck’s sake, please don’t.” I shoved him through before he could say anything else.

  I looked back at the hearth; Nibli and Laith were gone.

  Good.

  I shook out my arms and massaged my head in mental preparation. I cracked my knuckles, staring down the gate. I could do this.

  I could do this.

  I held my breath, closed my eyes, and walked forward.

  *

  Cool air.

  A dull roar.

  Soft cries.

  I o
pened my eyes, squinting against a dim light. A migraine raged full throttle and even the shadows were too bright. I didn’t try to move, because I knew I couldn’t.

  I knew this place.

  I knew the gate would take me here, but that didn’t stop the pounding in my chest as I watched Tae sob violently, clutching at the pillar to which she was tethered. For just a second all the terror washed away, and my eyes welled with tears—real tears, because I’d still been a useless lesser—at the mere sight of her. It’d been so long; I didn’t realize how long it’d actually been until now.

  I didn’t know what I was supposed to do. How do I face my shadow? What was my shadow?

  This place?

  Tae?

  Myself?

  “Q-Qaira, I thought you were dead.”

  My sister’s words pierced my head, the softness of her voice like a dagger.

  “It’ll be alright,” I rasped. “It’ll all be over soon. Don’t fight it. Don’t fight it, because I can’t watch that a second time.”

  Tae sniffled with confusion. “Qaira, what—?”

  “I’m sorry.” I felt the first tear roll down my cheek.

  She only stared.

  “I’m sorry!” I shouted. “Do you hear me? I’m so sorry!”

  Before her quivering lips could usher a word, the sound of a door creaked open nearby.

  I closed my eyes, stewing in hopelessness. I tried to tell myself this wasn’t real, but the smells, the sounds, the cool air against my face, the migraine—did it matter if this wasn’t real? I was fucking here.

  The row of angels in the enforcer masks followed suit, arranging themselves around my sister. The erratic footsteps came next, but something was different about them. Instead of the shuffle of a cripple, there was repetitive tap, tap, tap of a cane.

  A cane.

  But there was no cane when Micah appeared, just the derelict angel cripple, who stopped and smiled at me like we’d just crossed paths on an evening walk. And then I stared into his face—;

  And everything came crashing down.

  “Good afternoon, Regent.”

  That voice.

  All I’d had to do was take away the angel on him. No, this couldn’t be. And, there went any semblance of control I’d retained.

  “You fucking bitch motherfucker!” I screamed, and then everyone’s heads exploded. I ripped out of the rickety chair, throwing it across the room. Back then I’d been too weak to break free, now it was different. It ricocheted off a cement pillar, before falling into the pile of bodies.

  Whirrrrrr.

  I turned in place. Everything was so dark and empty. I looked up, into nihility.

  All this time—;

  All this time—;

  “Let me out of here!”

  All this time—;

  All this time—;

  “Let me out of here, I’ll fucking kill you!”

  “Don’t,” said a hollow voice from somewhere behind me. I turned, eyes wild.

  A figure emerged from the recess of the abandoned factory. They lingered there, just out of light’s reach.

  “Who are you?” I shouted, walking toward them. “Show yourself, or I swear to fucking god I will rip—”

  And then I froze as they stepped into view. It was the woman with the antlers and one-eyed mask. “Don’t,” she said again, her voice like nails and wind.

  “Don’t what?”

  She lifted her hand and pulled off the mask. I didn’t understand what I was looking at.

  Tae?

  My sister looked sick and withered; her hair was short, wet, and stringy. Her skin was pale and her eyes were hollowed out. She looked like someone had drowned her in a lake. I couldn’t think of anything to say. All I could do was stare at her in utter disbelief.

  Was she my shadow? Had she followed me all the way through Eschatis?

  “…Why?” I asked, the question hitching in my throat.

  “Let me go,” Tae said, her sallow eyes pleading. “I’m so tired, I just want to rest. It doesn’t matter anymore, Qaira, please.”

  “I… don’t know how. Tell me how, I’ll do it.” She said nothing, only looked at me. “Tae, tell me how.”

  My sister slowly raised her arms out from her sides, as if presenting. “Do it.”

  I stared down at the center of her chest, covered by the unsightly sack. The confusion began to wane. My stare grew distant. “What happens to you, if I do?”

  “It doesn’t matter. Do it. If you want to get out of here, you have to do it.”

  I couldn’t do that. Not that. The look on my face withered her own.

  “I’ve never blamed you for anything,” Tae pressed. “You’ve paid for my life a thousand times over. Look at you now.”

  I covered my face as tears escaped from my eyes.

  “Look at you now,” she said again, now against me in a cold, dead embrace. “Do it. Release me.”

  I wrapped my arms around her, shivering from how cold she was. I’d done this to her, hadn’t I? The longer I held onto her, the sicker she became. I’d been the one drowning Tae in a lake of wrath for over a thousand years.

  But was this even real?

  Was she really my sister?

  I didn’t know.

  I didn’t know.

  “I love you,” I whispered into her hair, right before I unleashed a scythe and shoved it in her stomach.

  XXIV

  ADRIAL

  ONCE THE TCS THREAD HAD ALL BEEN SORTED OUT, EVERYONE required therapy, including me. The introduction of a parallel realm—one that we couldn’t quite call a universe, because the laws weren’t so cut and dry—sparked debate among the scholars on whether or not we should stake claim in surveying it. On the first night that our missionaries returned, we all ate together in the dining hall.

  “Is it an afterlife, then?” marveled Pariah, after Zira had elaborated more on the wayfarer hearths and gates.

  “Yes and no,” replied Zira. “Not everyone who dies is there, but some are; like Cassima and Laith.”

  “Laith and Cassima were never proven to be dead,” quipped Yahweh, ever the skeptic. “It’s a universe, just one not borne of alpha-Insipia. Perhaps it’s the first universe ever to exist.”

  “It was suggested there are more out there,” said Zira. “Universes, unlike any in the Multiverse. Except Laith called them realms. We saw the remnants of one in Eschatis.”

  “Realms my left foot,” muttered Yahweh. “Let me in there with some equipment; then we’ll see.”

  Thoroughly overwhelmed, Pariah sighed and returned to his food.

  I tuned in to their conversation from the head of the table, content with not intervening. Beside me, Aela leaned in. “Are you going to tell Yahweh?”

  “Not yet. Let all the excitement die down first.”

  “He’s expecting to be chosen as the first analytical envoy into Eschatis,” she pressed, frowning sullenly.

  I sipped my wine, relegating Aela’s dissatisfaction. “And he might be yet.”

  She glared at me, silent. I knew she wanted to be the first envoy. My prior response was to hint that I knew, and any further attempts at manipulation would get her benched.

  Qaira had barely said anything since his return to Enigmus. He and Leid were the only ones absent from the dining room tonight. I hadn’t pressed for their attendance. Neither had seemed in the frame of mind to socialize.

  Our meal was adjourned early when Leid’s voice permeated our thoughts:

  All scholars, report to the council room.

  *

  When we filed in, she and Qaira were seated at the head of the council table, having been in mid-discussion. Their expressions told me the conversation was not a light one.

  I knew what was coming. Leid had spoken to me earlier today, asking for my blessing to deal with the athanasian situation without incursion. Whenever she’d ask for that, it always meant I wasn’t going to whole-heartedly agree with her tactics.

  She was the knife,
I was the scale. Enigmus worked best like that.

  Out of respect for me, Qaira left the front of the room and took a seat between Yahweh and Pariah. The council table was shaped in a U formation. Leid was on the right, I was on the left, and a dais stood between us.

  The dais was already activated, highlighting the TCS thread, which now had gained a sub-thread labeled Eschatis. Leid waited until the scholars were seated and I took my place beside her, then she began.

  “All of you are familiar with the thread regarding the TriColony Sigma abnormality, so I don’t have to justify the severity of this situation, nor the stakes involved.” Her eyes drifted across the room, reading each scholar by their expression. “The residents of Eschatis have asked for our protection, and I gave them my word that we will provide it. Protecting Eschatis mutually protects the multiverse. Therefore,” she flicked her eyes to the holo-thread above the cistern. The Eschatis sub-thread opened, revealing the names of three scholars:

  Qaira

  Zira

  Pariah

  Beside each name was a list of factions under the Court of Enigmus’s protection. Each had about four. I already didn’t like where this was headed but held my tongue, because I’d promised her I would.

  “Using the timeline map of shard activity that Aela and Zira put together, I’ve been…” she paused, her voice quavering. This was difficult for her as well. She cleared her throat. “Forced to make the decision that any lesser knowledge of athanasian shard existence must be liquidated.”

  There was silence from the scholars; some shared looks, others only stared at the thread in confusion. Pariah was the first to speak.

  “Liquidated, as in—?”

  “As in snuffed out,” responded Qaira, irritated.

  “The scholars recorded in this thread are to infiltrate their task list. Find out any and every person that either knows or is currently involved in athanasian shard research.”

  Zira raised his brows. “And then what?”