The Esoteric Design

by A. R. Crebs

  “My God,” Dovian finally spoke, holding a hand to his porcelain forehead.

  “Not fair, is it?” Troy asked.

  “No, it certainly isn’t. And I know where you’re going with this, but please believe me when I tell you, God had nothing to do with that,” Dovian said lowly.

  Troy scoffed. “No. Everything that happens is just bad luck, all caused by humanity’s own stupidity and greed.” He sucked on his cigarette. “We’re damned. Always have been. That’s why God left in the first place. And we’re all on our own now. But, I’ll keep her safe, no matter what. I bet my soul on it,” Troy chuckled. After a moment, his smile faltered. “If I haven’t lost her yet.”

  Dovian sagged in his chair. “You think that argument has the potential to ruin your relationship? You’ve never been in a real relationship before, have you?”

  Troy gaped at the other man curiously.

  The Sorcēarian sighed, the sound low and hollow. “It’s not about what you say that hurts the person the most. Sure, at the moment it hurts, but it’s more about what you’re leaving out, not saying, that can pour salt in the wound. Everyone argues. The question is whether or not you want to give up and have that argument be the final conversation you had, or if you want to fix that mistake and make an effort so the other person can realize what it is you actually feel. Too many people give up too early. If you are willing to give up, then fine, give up, because you’re not worth her time. But, if you want to fix it, then you had better hurry and fix it. You can only leave a wound untreated for so long before it starts to fester, and that isn’t love.”

  Troy sat on the bar stool, staring at the ice cubes in his tumbler.

  “She’s very important to you,” Dovian said. It wasn’t a question but a statement.

  Troy nodded slowly.

  “You say that you’ll protect her, but don’t forget to protect yourself along the way, okay?” Dovian rose from his chair, patting Troy on the shoulder.

  “Nice pep-talk, Dovian,” Troy said. The Sorcēarian glanced over his shoulder. “Guess I’m a little slow at recognizing these sorts of things.”

  “Better late than never.” Dovian nodded, giving the man a gentle smile. Looking at his wristband, he said, “You should get yourself dressed for the party.”

  “Aw, gotta put on my dancin’ shoes,” Troy muttered with his cigarette between his teeth. “Hey, Dovian!” he called out again, swiveling on his stool.

  The Sorcēarian looked back with a questioning look on his face.

  Gesturing to Dovian’s mask, Troy said, “You going to take that thing off?”

  “No,” Dovian refused. Tapping on the porcelain, he gave a sideways grin. “I think I’ll keep it. The chicks dig it.”

  Troy shrugged, “I dig it,” he said jokingly.

  Dovian chuckled and turned, giving a small wave as he slowly took the stairs to the elevator. The noise level of the hotel had risen tenfold. From the massive hall, he could hear the sound of instruments tuning and the garbled conversation of dozens of excited guests. Looking up to stare at his golden reflection in the elevator doors, he smirked. The naivety of his human comrades was quite amusing. And here he was playing matchmaker between the two best soldiers of Bio-Tech. His smile faltered. But what about him?

  ‘It never would have worked out between us, my dear,’ Dovian thought. He closed his illuminating eyes, reflecting on the night with Aria. Vividly, he remembered her touch, her smell, her laughter in his ears, and, most importantly, the sound of her breathy moans. Dovian chuckled, opening his eyes. ‘But thank you for the memories and the small fantasy in my otherwise horribly realistic world.’

  The soft chime of the doors opening tore the Sorcēarian from his thoughts. Entering, he pressed against the number of his desired location. He watched, indifferent, at the blinking lights on the many floors of the Pendant Hotel. Once on his level, the gates pulled open again, giving him another gleeful ding. His impassive expression fell further as he noticed a nervous Ivory standing and knocking frantically at his room. Slowly, he made his way toward the woman.

  “Looking for me?” he asked quietly.

  “Dovian.” She turned to him, her pale face covered by a silver decorative mask adorned with orange jewels. She wore a beautiful gown of yellow and silver, tight around her top and billowing out at her waist with a transparent gossamer, the fabric sparkling with tiny gems. Her arms were covered with matching silk gloves. The woman tugged on her hands nervously. Her blue eyes, offset by dark eyeliner, stared at him fearfully. “We’ve got to talk.”

  Sensing her unease, Dovian couldn’t help but swallow hard. It was a discussion he was sure they needed but one he wasn’t quite ready to have. Shivering under her icy stare, Dovian carefully moved around her, unlocking the door with his keycard and thumbprint. Pushing the surface, he held out a palm, gesturing for her to enter first. Ivory quickly strode into his room, staring at the carpet. Lost in her thoughts, her blank expression looked upon nothing. A tense silence filled the room, nearly consuming her. For the first time, she felt like she was in a foreign place, somewhere she did not belong. The sound of the door closing made her jolt, and her hands wrung once again.

  “What would you like to talk about?” Dovian asked after a minute.

  Her chest heaving, Ivory finally turned to him. “I’Lanthe. We need to talk about I’Lanthe.”

  Like being doused in ice water, Dovian froze, feeling bumps cover his skin. “And what, exactly, do you know about I’Lanthe?” he mustered.

  Caving in to her anxiety, she shouted, “I don’t know! I don’t know anything about her!” She was distressed, her eyes brimming with tears. Grabbing onto Dovian’s coat, her lips trembled. “The only thing I know about her is the way she feels about you.”

  Dovian stiffened under the blonde’s close proximity. He stared down at her, his mouth gaping as he tried to form words. “H-how does she feel about me?” he asked after a moment.

  Ivory’s grip on his clothing loosened, and she looked away, staring at the floor once again. Her mouth twitched, and she took a deep breath. “She loves you. She loves you so much, and it hurts. I can’t explain it. I don’t know how any of this is happening, but all I know is that being around you hurts so much.”

  Seeing her desperation left an all too familiar sting in the man’s chest. Dovian’s brow creased with concern as he gently grabbed her small wrists. She winced then. “Dovian, you are hurting me!”

  “I hurt you?” he asked, quickly releasing her.

  Ivory unconsciously grabbed her wrists, staring down at her gloved fingers. “N-no. That’s not what I meant.” She rested a palm on her chest, closing her eyes tightly.

  Dovian flinched, grabbing the side of his head as another painful memory flooded his senses. It was a faraway memory from a time he was arguing with I’Lanthe.

  It was a terrible day, one full of ache and regret. He had grabbed I’Lanthe tightly, pulling her at the wrist toward him.

  “Dovian, you are hurting me!” she screamed.

  He quickly let go, watching her with a sorrowful expression.

  “I’m sorry,” he muttered, rubbing her wrists.

  “That’s not what I meant,” she whispered, placing a hand against her chest. “I don’t like seeing you like this. It hurts.”

  Dovian sighed, trying to thrust the memory from his mind. Ivory looked at him once again. She noticed his distress and frowned.

  “I don’t know who she is or why she’s inside me, but I do know that she loves you more than anything and misses you so much.” A small sob crept from her mouth. “And it’s affecting me! I don’t know what to do! I’ve been sitting in my room, all alone, and I have no clue what these feelings are, or whose they are!” She quickly turned away, clenching her fists before her mouth.

  Dovian reached for her, his own shaking palms resting on her shoulders.

  “I don’t know what’s going on! Who am I? Why do I have these terrible memories? They are full of so much pain!�
�� she cried out, her hands covering her face.

  “Lanthe…” Dovian whispered, his hands running down her arms.

  “No!” Ivory quickly pushed away. The man looked at her, his face holding a hurtful expression. “I’m not I’Lanthe! Don’t call me that!”

  “But, what other explanation is there? Who else can you be?” Dovian asked.

  “Ivory! My name is Ivory! I am my own person!” she shrieked.

  “Then why do you have memories that do not belong to you?!” Dovian asked, his blue eyes glimmering in the pale light of the hotel room.

  Ivory trembled at the man’s booming voice. “I don’t know, okay?” she responded, slowly backing away.

  “Ivory! Who in the hell are you?” he asked firmly, gripping her arms. He tugged her close, watching her intently with narrowed eyes.

  She shivered under the man’s intense stare. He was oblivious to the mask he was wearing, hiding his features, making him even more mysterious and slightly terrifying. She gripped his arms in return, the two holding onto one another. Her breaths were uneven as unknown memories flooded into her system, causing her to flinch.

  Love.

  Passion.

  Regret.

  Fear.

  Sorrow.

  It all hit her like a tidal wave, and Ivory was shaking, trying not to give into her emotions, into the emotions that did not belong to her.

  “What?” Dovian asked. “Please, tell me what you are thinking.”

  “No,” she whispered, refusing to look him in the eye.

  “You are the only person, the only human, I’ve ever met that I cannot read,” he replied. “It scares me not knowing what you are thinking, not knowing what you are hiding.”

  Ivory finally tore her blue eyes up to his. She gaped at him, her wrinkled brow hidden behind her mask. “You can’t read me?” she asked.

  “I cannot read your thoughts. I’ve never encountered this before. Not since the Sorcēarian’s were still alive.”

  “I’m not a Sorcēarian.”

  “Then what are you?” He sounded frantic and irritated.

  Ivory stared. He returned the same intense look.

  “I can’t explain that to you. Besides, I already think you have a good idea,” she said, swallowing thickly.

  “I have my hypothesis,” he whispered, “but I still cannot make sense of any of it.”

  Realizing that they were still holding onto each other, Ivory pulled away. “Neither can I,” she replied. “One minute, I’m awake in a strange land with all of you staring at me. The next, I’m feeling emotions and memories I’ve never had before. I’m seeing you and recognizing you, and I know I shouldn’t know you. And then…” she paused, her hands gripping the dog tag around her neck, “I’m scared. Scared of what I really am, of what I will become.”

  “And what, exactly, is that?”

  “I don’t know. I have no idea. All I know is that I’m scared. I’m afraid, and I have no way to explain it,” she whispered.

  “Your sister said that you were dead. Do you think that has anything to do with it?” he asked.

  “It probably has everything to do with it, Dovian,” she said bitterly, folding her arms over her chest. “But I don’t know why I woke up in Ives. I have no clue as to how I ended up there. My memory only stretches as far as when I first awoke with you all around me.”

  “Maybe she’s communicating through you. Maybe you are I’Lanthe.”

  Dovian placed a hand on Ivory’s shoulder once again. She flinched, turning to face him.

  “And that’s exactly what you want, isn’t it, Dovian?” she asked sourly. “You are wishing and hoping that I am your lost love! That’s all you care about, isn’t it? It’s the only reason you’ve shown me any kindness!”

  “No, that’s not it,” he disagreed.

  “The only reason you’ve shown any interest or care toward me at all is because of your desperation to talk to I’Lanthe once again. It has nothing to do with me! The actual me!” she said, her tone rising in volume.

  Dovian gaped at her, trying to form words. In a way, she was right, and that filled Dovian with self-disgust. Still, it didn’t mean he cared any less for Ivory as a friend or comrade. He truly did care about her safety and well-being. Also, he needed to find out how she knew anything at all about I’Lanthe, about a woman who had been long forgotten by history thousands of years old.

  “You don’t care about me. Ivory! You only care about your past!” She threw her arms in the air. “The only people who care about me are now dead! I don’t exist! I’m dead, too! I’m some stupid shell of a person that has some ghost in it–a ghost that you wish I would pretend to be!”

  “I didn’t say that,” he alleged.

  Losing herself further to her depressing thoughts, Ivory whispered harshly to herself more than Dovian, “Who is to say that I am Ivory? Fiona said it herself; I’m in a jar on some bookcase somewhere. Ashes!” she growled in frustration. “I’m dead, Dovian! I don’t exist! Am I even real? Am I even standing here?!”

  “You are here,” he replied quickly, trying to settle the woman down. “You are here. You are standing here, real, in the flesh. You are your own person.”

  “Am I?” she asked skeptically. “Do you really believe that, Dovian? Is that what you really want?”

  Ivory glared at him, her pupils thinning to small dots. Dovian stared back; the sudden silence was nearly suffocating. His hesitation lasted too long, however, as Ivory shoved past him and walked toward his door.

  “Ivory!” he called out, facing her.

  “You said it yourself, Dovian, when we first met. An imitation is never as good as the original. I’m never going to be as good as the real thing–as Ivory…as I’Lanthe,” she said in a sad tone, her voice cracking.

  “Ivory, please. You are just as important as the next person,” he tried to explain, but she wouldn’t have any of it.

  “Don’t call me Ivory. That name no longer belongs to me, either,” she hissed, pulling open the door. “I’m just some person with no identity. I belong to no one. I am no one.”

  Dovian reached toward her, his mouth opening to speak, but she shut her eyes and walked into the hallway, closing the door firmly behind her. In silence, he stood in the center of the room, his hand slowly falling to his side as he stared at the peephole in the center of the entry.

  Beep, beep. Beep, beep.

  His alarm sounded, signaling the start of the masquerade. The others would be moving into position soon, which meant he needed to stand guard outside. Alone.

  ‘Always alone. Always screwing everything up,’ he thought.

  Then he wondered why he didn’t bother trying to fight this battle alone, away from all of the distractions and dramas of the humans. Was it really worth being surrounded by them and their constant problems? Did having the others around actually benefit him in the grand scheme of things? Weren’t they only a distraction, things that merely got in the way? Why was he with them? Why did he hopelessly cling onto Aria, Troy, and Ivory? Was it really because he was so lonely and desperate for interaction? Was he dead set on finding I’Lanthe once again?

  The answer was simple–yes. He was desperate and lonely. Dovian wanted others around him. He wanted that small sliver of joy and amusement, the pure emotion in his life. But, in the end, did any of it really matter? Would any of it really matter?

  His mouth set into a thin line. Letting out another deep groan, Dovian rubbed his forehead, his fingers running along the painted lines of his mask. He stared at his reflection in the glass covering one of the many paintings in the room. Behind the disguise of red and gold, his blue eyes glimmered with a chilly expression. He watched himself momentarily, feeling the weight of the world shift from shoulder to shoulder as he pondered the current stresses in his life.

  Was any of this really worth the effort?

  "There Can Be No Darkness Without Light"

  Chapter 20

  Aria stood off to the side of the
grand ballroom, watching with a casual interest the many couples dancing in the center of the room. Inside the ballroom had to be at least two thousand people. The lobby was filled with more champagne-sipping guests, all laughing and talking noisily behind their shimmering masks and overpriced garments. As the dancers twirled, sparkling lights glinted from the glittering chandeliers of gold, silver, and crystal against their jeweled ensembles. The music droned with a classical rhythm underlying pulsating beats from the equally suave looking band on stage. Most of the instruments were controlled by cybernetic hand instruments, electronics, and optic DJ systems. Technically, the place felt like a classy, costumed club.

  “Drink, miss?” A kind but slightly uptight looking man offered her from a silver tray.

  “Thanks,” Aria said, quickly accepting a glass of bubbling champagne.

  He smiled and walked away, offering to other guests. Aria fidgeted uncomfortably in her blue dress, trying her best to avoid the stares and wolfish smiles from the men lining the opposite wall. She definitely was not in her environment. Sipping awkwardly from her glass, she turned to look out the large window near the corner she was closest to. With a squint, she could see through the blackness of the night a shade of red. Probably picking up her thoughts, Dovian turned to look back at the woman, his crystalline eyes glowing in the darkness behind his own shimmering mask. She gave him a smile but couldn’t read his own expression through the glass which was distorted by the reflections of the lights and ornate decorations from the inside. She did, however, hear a small whisper in her mind.

  “Beautiful.” It was quiet but in Dovian’s calm tone.

  Unconsciously, she fed him another shy smile. He turned away, lifting his hood, and Aria couldn’t help but feel that there was something the matter with the man.

  Returning her attention back to the ball, she shifted her glass to her other hand, her eyes wandering from mask to mask. Finally, she looked over her shoulder at the bar. No Troy.

  ‘Where is he?’ She frowned.

  A flicker on the television screen above the bar alerted her. Watching from afar, she read the banner sweeping across the bottom of the display stating James Clarke’s disappearance. Her body went rigid, her heart thumping in her chest. Following the report was a series of unsettling scenes revealing the destruction of the Underbelly.