Remeon's Destiny

by J. W. Garrett

  “It was all of us. And, if you search your feelings, I think you will realize that you have very strong feelings for Stephen as well,” she added. “I personally believe you tipped the scales. Your prowess in teleconnectivity is unmatched. The break in Simon’s hold on Stephen would not have happened without your skill. I’m still unsure how Belle was not pulled in, controlled, and used against us though. Her true name is known.”

  “We still don’t know some factors, including the full involvement of Belle. Much more is there. She’s a natural. Without her familial pull on Stephen’s inner psyche, we would have most likely failed.”

  “Yet here we are. Ready to move a new generation of Day Watchers forward and soon hopefully to be disease-free. I got word from the doctors this morning that Stephen’s condition has been upgraded from critical to serious, a step in the right direction. If he continues on that path, the final tests may be performed in as soon as one week. From there, assuming good news, the cure is on the horizon. We will once again be a race with a future!”

  “Let me quit being a blubbering mess for a few minutes so we can discuss the pieces of the service that we must,” Arista said.

  “Sure. Let me refresh your tea, and I’ll join you with a cup as well.”

  ARISTA WALKED THROUGH the side door, accompanied by Vinique on her right and her guards behind her. The council members came in behind the guards, filling in the first two rows, as the crowd erupted in a thunderous applause. As Arista made her way to the lectern, she scanned the masses gathered in front her. She approached the assembly and motioned for the group to sit.

  “Thank you, everyone. Thanks for attending. Your presence here means so much to me, and my hope is that you find comfort in one another as well as joy in sharing memories of my mother and, through commemorating all she has done for each of us, a peace in her passing.” Arista paused, took a deep, shaky breath, then continued. “Whisterly was always prepared, even for this aspect of her life, and she will continue to guide us long after her death. She has left us a wonderful legacy. Let us now celebrate her life, a life well lived, full of service and love to those around her, a life that has touched us all, a life destined to live on through each of you.”

  The crowd again rose to their feet, clapping in support of their fallen leader. Energized, Arista continued with the rest of the service.

  THIRTY MINUTES LATER she took her seat beside Vinique.

  “See? That wasn’t so bad, was it?”

  “Getting started was a little rough. But, as I spoke, I could feel her spirit with me. It felt right, you know? And real. Just like she would have wanted…and here I go again,” she said, as silent tears began anew.

  ARISTA TAPPED SOFTLY on the door, unsure if she would actually receive a response.

  “Come in.”

  The soft meek response brought a smile to her lips as she pushed through the door, eager to see Belle, who was fast becoming one of her favorite little people. “Good morning, Belle. How are you today?”

  “I’m ready to go,” she announced, propelling herself off the bed in a long leap.

  “I can see that,” Arista said, smiling at Belle’s enthusiasm. Arista knew Belle was looking forward to their visit with Stephen as well.

  Five days had passed since his return to the compound. The doctors were still concerned with many aspects of his health, but his improvement had been significant enough to have his condition upgraded to stable. He appeared to be out of imminent danger.

  “Remember now,” Arista said, “we must not be loud. Others in the hospital are recovering from injuries and illnesses, and we cannot disturb them.”

  Belle looked up and nodded, wide-eyed in response.

  “Let’s go,” Arista said, reaching out to grab the little outstretched hand.

  She wanted to ask and say so many things to Stephen. This ordeal had been brutally painful for him—his kidnapping as well as his sister’s predicament, the horror of his mistreatment, not to mention his own life-threatening injuries he had sustained. Arista needed to wait for those discussions, she decided. Some of these conversations would be best to have one on one.

  When they reached the door to Stephen’s room, Belle hesitated, glancing at Arista for approval.

  “It’s okay. Don’t be timid. Knock softly, and go on in. He’s expecting us,” Arista said.

  With an eager nod, Belle softy knocked, pulled the door open, and slowly poked her head into the room.

  “It’s really you,” she exclaimed, running to his bedside.

  “Come here you,” he said, reaching for her.

  Belle carefully climbed onto the bed, awkwardly making her way to her brother. As she got closer, he pulled her in the rest of the way, and they embraced, swaying back and forth in a calming rhythm. After a few moments Belle broke free of his grasp and sat back, studying him. “I was so worried. They said you might, you might…” Her voice broke off abruptly, as tears filled her eyes, and she looked down, wringing her hands.

  Stephen reached over, putting his hand under her chin to lift her face, even with his own. “It’s okay. I’m right here. See?” he said, his arms outstretched in affirmation.

  Belle slid in closer and, finding a perfect spot, reached her arms around Stephen and lay her head on his chest, exhaling deeply.

  Arista couldn’t help but smile, taking in the family reunion that she knew would end all too soon. As the siblings spoke with each other, Arista moved toward the bed, filling the chair next to Stephen.

  We too have some things to talk about, she communicated silently. While she spoke, her gaze found his, and she reached for his hand.

  Stephen, startled, looked up as her touch radiated through him, and they stared, transfixed, their thoughts a constant single stream.

  Arista gasped in sorrow as she felt the pain that Stephen had endured at the hands of Simon, and Stephen also felt the loss and sadness that Arista had experienced upon the death of Whisterly.

  Belle continued to talk, not privy to their silent conversation.

  “You know, your brother should probably rest for a little while. This has been quite a lot of excitement for one day,” Arista said, turning toward Belle. “I’ve got a few more things to discuss with him before I leave. Sera is on her way to pick you up, so you don’t have to stay so long.”

  Belle looked back and forth, studying them. “Uh-huh, I see. You just don’t want me here while you talk.”

  “That’s not true,” Stephen said in a voice full of mock protest.

  “It will only bore you, and, besides, you’ll have more fun with Sera.”

  “Well, can I puleeze come back later?” she pleaded. “I miss my brother.” Her eyes focused forlornly on Stephen.

  Arista’s heart broke for them both. They had been through so much.

  “It will have to be tonight. ’Cause doctors say I’m busting outta here tomorrow,” he said, smiling broadly.

  Belle bounced on the bed and clapped in celebration.

  “What great news,” Arista said.

  “Okay, she’s here. Sera just called for me. I’ll see you a little later.”

  Belle made her way up close to her brother’s face and hugged him tightly as she whispered, “I love you, and I’m so glad you’re not dead.”

  Stephen chuckled. “Me too,” he added.

  Seemingly satisfied her brother was okay for the time being, she scurried down the way she had come and left, flashing one more quick toothy grin, closing the door behind her.

  Arista turned her attention back to Stephen. “There’s much to discuss. Are you sure you’re up to it?”

  “I’m all yours. Go.”

  “I guess you realize that, during your prior visit here, you were in holographic form, as your sister is now.”

  Stephen cringed as he said, “unfortunately for me, Simon more or less let me in on that fact. He mentioned a few other things as well. Why didn’t you tell me just how bad things were between the two groups? You all brought us into
quite the conflict.”

  “Your sister is extremely gifted in the art of telepathy,” Arista said. “She was instrumental in reaching you. Without her, I’m not sure if Vinique and I would have gotten through to you. She may very well be the key to getting you home. And, regarding the conflict, we simply had no other choice. You are our only hope at this point.”

  “I’m listening.”

  “Our resources are limited. The council will not authorize another off-planet visit for many years…”

  Stephen groaned. “You mean, I have to stay here?”

  “We have one other possibility, but it’s a long shot and dangerous as well for the one completing the trip.”

  “Okay. Let’s hear it.”

  “This is somewhat complicated, and I’m not well versed in interstellar travel, but let me try to explain. Our minds have the ability to pull those we love through time and space. Partially this ability allowed us, with Belle’s help, to free you from Simon’s control. You see, he had your ‘true’ name and with that comes a powerful controlling factor within our world. But Belle’s love broke through and transcended that force, and, if I’m being honest with myself…” Arista’s voice trailed off and was barely audible as she finished speaking, intently studying her hands. “I’m thinking my feelings for you helped as well.”

  Stephen’s mouth went dry, and his lips moved, but nothing came out.

  Arista let out a giggle. “Remember, I know your thoughts,” she reminded him.

  “That’s good, ’cause I’m at a total loss of words,” Stephen said. “Maybe being marooned here wouldn’t be so bad…”

  “No… You would eventually hate me for taking you away from your family.” She continued. “You need to think this through. You’ve experienced a very traumatic time. So has your family and so has mine. Your family has the chance to be whole again, if this is successful. First, we must release Belle back to Earth. Her holographic patterns are degrading, and, at this point, she is unaware of the technology keeping her here. I thought it best not to explain it to her. It’s a very difficult concept to grasp—”

  “Stop, yes. I agree. Do it. Free her as soon as possible,” Stephen said, his frustration mounting. “You’re right. My family must be going crazy. She needs to be safe, at home.”

  Arista flashed a seething glare at him. “Your wish is my command.” She rose to leave.

  “Wait. I didn’t mean that the way it sounded. It came out a little… harsh, maybe?”

  “Maybe?” Arista said, as she took a step toward the door.

  Stephen instinctively reached for her hand and pulled her back toward the bed.

  “Don’t go. I just can’t believe it—you, me, us?”

  Arista shivered at his unexpected touch, and her anger dissipated as quickly as it had intruded.

  “Why shouldn’t I go?” she asked.

  Stephen brought his finger to his lips as a playful smile formed there. “Shhh,” he whispered. “Don’t make an injured man beg. You know what I’m thinking,” he said, his gaze playful.

  “Yes. I believe I do,” she said, smiling in return.

  Stephen gently took her head in his hands and pulled her closer to him.

  Her heartbeat quickened as she responded to his embrace, and their lips met, softly at first, then more urgently, lingering as they explored.

  ARISTA FUMBLED WITH her bedside light. Sleep evaded her. It was pointless to lie in bed, she decided. Stephen’s release today from the infirmary meant action needed to be taken soon. He was still in imminent danger. Even though their doctors had reported success in the development of the final stages of the cure, the people had not been informed. Formal testing had begun, and, due to lives being lost daily, this stage would be accelerated.

  Still secrecy was needed. Stephen had not even been made aware that the doctors had conducted additional testing, pulled samples, and investigated his DNA. Too much was at stake, and anything he knew could be pulled from him by the Night Dwellers. The extent of Simon’s injuries remained unknown also, even after multiple attempts at intelligence gathering.

  However, she had felt his malevolent presence on multiple occasions over the past few days, and, whether the source was from mind-probing telepathy or bad dreams, the result was the same. She felt strongly he was still alive. Her stomach turned with revulsion at the thought of him. He had almost killed Stephen by making him a plaything. Simon’s cruelty seemed to know no bounds. If she could get Stephen off-world, it was her duty to do so, before Simon came back for seconds.

  She prepared her tea and a light breakfast, and pondered her predicament. Currently on leave from the council due to her mother’s death, she could take no action formally representing the people as the council’s leader. All those decisions were in the capable hands of Vinique, who had been understandably quite busy of late. Arista felt her insides warm as she allowed her thoughts to return to Stephen and the intimate moment they had shared. The pent-up feelings and desire had caught her off guard, even though she had known for some time, deep in her heart, that she loved him. How difficult to acknowledge—he was human; she was not. How could there be a future, and would he even want one with her?

  Over the rim of her teacup she spotted the large envelope she had set aside on her bedside table last night. Whisterly’s penmanship adorned the outside. It read simply My Little One. Hoping for needed wisdom and eager to read her mother’s words, Arista retrieved the package and settled in again. She ran her fingers over the length of the small parcel, evaluating her strength to handle its contents. Eager for knowledge, with a deep, trembling breath, Arista decisively emptied the package onto her lap. She saw many envelopes, each with a number in the corner. One had the words Read First written across the front, with a number one in the corner. So be it, Arista resolved, and she carefully opened number one.

  Hello, my darling daughter. If you are reading this, then I am no longer with you. So, first of all, know you are loved and fully capable of the task ahead of you. You have been prepared since birth to preside over the council as its ruling elder, and, even though I’m unsure of the timing of this letter, I know that my death will most surely rock your most carefully constructed foundation.

  As I write this, you are only four months old. Already I can tell your strengths are astounding and your abilities innately superior. With deep regret, however, I must admit to a secret that was necessary since your birth, but one that you must now know to make fully cognizant decisions on behalf of your people. So here it is: your father is human. The specifics I will detail in later communications, but, for now, understand that I loved him deeply, despite the reason for our original conjugation.

  Hopefully by the time you are reading this, the dreadful disease that has befallen our people has been eradicated, but, if not, be confident it will be soon. To put it simply, I needed an heir who would not succumb to this horrible sickness. A human mating offered the best chance of this outcome. The science aside, your health has been confirmed by specialists. You are immune, due to your human DNA. My primary objective has been achieved. And I apologize for the additional shock that you will receive with the second part of this message, but, in order to protect the line of succession, the utmost secrecy on this issue was necessary: you are a twin, and your brother was placed in the care of a foster family to protect his anonymity.

  Arista paused. I’m a what? Twin? Her cheeks damp now, she wiped away tears that she didn’t remember crying, but they continued to flow. She couldn’t imagine her mother keeping a secret like this for so long. How could she? With a huff, Arista stopped and rifled through the letters, looking for a later installment, one that would reveal quickly what she wouldn’t wait to know. She pulled a random letter from the back of the pack and noted number twenty-six in the corner, then hastily grabbed its contents. Maybe the written word would prove her intuition wrong, she hoped, quickly scanning the letter, searching for names and the context of their use. Then she found it, a stray sentence: Simon…he i
s, after all, still your brother.

  “No, no, no…” she repeated, becoming louder with each iteration. “It’s true. I feel it. He’s a part of me,” she said desperately, flinging the letter to the floor. She fell to her knees as a sob overtook her. Her body convulsed with fits of coughing, and she began to retch. Why? Why didn’t Mother tell me? Arista thought, as she rushed to the bathroom, relieving her stomach of the breakfast she had just consumed. Tears still falling, she stood at the sink, splashed cold water on her face, and rinsed her mouth, while she reined in her emotions.

  “Arista?”

  Startled, she faced Stephen, who looked just as surprised as she was.

  “Sorry, I, uh, uh, felt something was wrong…and, and…you didn’t answer the door,” he stuttered.

  Her chest heaving from crying, and unable to meet his gaze, she let the words flow that she was ashamed to utter. “Well, I might as well tell you. Otherwise you’ll find out if you search my feelings. I’m not hiding it,” she said resolutely. “Simon is my…brother,” she said, barely able to put the four words together. Arista watched as Stephen’s look of concern contorted and transformed to one of disgust, and she turned her back to him, unable to hold her emotions in check and not wanting to see the judgment that she knew would be evident on his face.

  “How?” Stephen asked, shaking his head in disbelief.

  Her back still turned, Arista pointed behind her to the letters strewn on the floor. “My mother told me so, years ago in these letters apparently, and I never had a clue. She was surely a master,” Arista said bitterly, turning to face Stephen, as she stifled another sob.

  He looked at the letters littering the floor and bent to pick them up.

  “No. Don’t touch them,” she warned.

  Stephen froze.

  “No telling what else has been hidden from me.”

  “Come. Sit,” Stephen said. “Maybe you’re on to something. Well, something else, I mean. I’ll bet lots of information are in these. You can’t control who your family is—your ma, your pa, your sisters, or brothers—but you can control who you choose to be friends with. And that would be me,” he said, raising his eyebrows, as a tentative grin escaped his lips.