Fragile Chaos

by Amber R. Duell

  I run my finger along the delicate carvings in the opal wall. A patchwork of squares and circles chase the door up from the floor. There’s no furniture in the hall. No paintings or statues. The walls speak for themselves. Beautiful. Cool. Suffocating.

  It gives me a completely new respect for Leander. To come home to such a solemn place after working what I imagine is a stressful job has to be terrible. It’s no wonder he agreed to my offer to come with him so quickly. He probably goes bat shit crazy.

  “Cassia?” Leander’s voice echoes behind me. “Is everything okay?”

  My hands fly to my chest, resting over the permanent ache there, and I spin away from the door. If I knew he was back, I would have tracked him down whether he was busy or not. “I thought you left,” I say.

  “I did.” He rubs his hands together before wiping them on his shirt. “There’s a back way to the river to avoid going around the mountain.”

  “Oh.” I shift uncomfortably between my feet. “Are you done for the day?”

  Leander shakes his head, a dash of pink touching his cheeks. “I wanted to make sure you were all right.” His laugh is quick and uneven. “Things got backed up while I was with Ebris, so I have to return.”

  “Take me with you,” I blurt.

  My stomach squeezes in revolt. For someone that wanted to avoid the dead, that came out much too hopeful. Clearly, I’m insane. I don’t want to see whatever waits on the other side of the river. It’s safe here; I should be glad Leander isn’t making me go with him. That is the agreement Ebris made after all—to help sort the souls. But what if I do see Oren? The colors of the hall fade as fast as the blood from my face, but I won’t take the question back. Knowing is better than wondering.

  “Please?” I step closer to Leander and force a tight smile.

  Leander stiffens and taps his fingers against his outer thigh. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”

  “I need to make sure my brother is still alive,” I tell him honestly. Because if Theo lets him die, I’m going to march back over there and strangle him with my bare hands. “I’ll stay out of the way.”

  “He’s alive,” Leander says slowly. His blue eyes waver, almost as if each new thought fuels his uncertainty.

  “But how long did it take you to get back here?” I press. “Five minutes is more than enough time to murder someone.” My hand drifts to my neck where the ghost of the cut lingers. Theo almost killed me in ten seconds; he can absolutely finish Oren off in the same amount of time.

  “You’re not going to take my word for it, are you?” he asks after a strained silence.

  I shake my head.

  “All right, then.” He snaps the hood of his black sweater over his hair, and his jaw works back and forth. “Let’s go,” he says without meeting my gaze.

  My heart pounds against my ribs as I follow him through identical, plain hallways to a glass platform deep within the castle. When he throws a lever, the ground shifts, lifting us into a round shaft. I grip his elbow to steady myself, but soon the muted sun shines above us again.

  The floor clunks to a halt at the top of the mountain. Everything is visible from here, layered with cascading patterns of pastel light. Below us a wide, ebony river cuts through the shimmering landscape.

  “Stay close,” Leander says. “And don’t go anywhere near the arch. If you cross, there’s no coming back.”

  This is a stupid, reckless idea. Leander can be trusted to tell me if my brother shows up. But I know myself too well; it won’t be enough to take his word. Oren’s been dead before. This time I have to see it with my own two eyes or I’ll never believe it. I take a deep breath. “Got it.”

  He holds a steady hand out to me and leads the way down a steep, narrow shelf in the mountainside. Dread ripples over me the second I look down. High. So, so high. The three feet between the white stone and impending doom feels more like three inches. I exhale slowly through my mouth. Freaking out will only make this worse, and I’m not turning around. I’m not.

  “There are some ground rules for your safety.” When he glances over his shoulder, he’s chewing on his lip. It isn’t the walk making him nervous—his steps are sure and purposeful—but the strain is written all over his features. That alone should send me spinning on my heel.

  “I’m all ears.” Anything to keep me from thinking about the drop. Or Oren, Theo, and the dead people I’m walking toward.

  “Don’t let go of me on the river. Ever. There are things…Just don’t let go of me.” He stops and raises his eyebrows. When I nod, he moves again. “The souls can touch you, so stay away from them too. Actually…” He squints down the ledge. “Stay beside me the whole time. If anything happens with the war, it could get hostile fast. This way I’ll be able to get you back across before anyone can hurt you.”

  “Done,” I say as we reach the bottom.

  The sweet smell is stronger here, pungent. A wail carries across the water so softly it’s almost not a cry at all but a trick of the wind. I would let myself believe it if there was even the slightest hint of a breeze.

  “Are you sure you want to do this?” Leander asks.

  I look him in the eyes, a piece of my old resolve snapping back into place. I’ve got this. How different can the souls be? We’re both dead. Maybe it won’t be as bad as I think. Maybe…maybe I won’t freak out.

  “Positive,” I say.

  He reaches out, pauses, then carefully links our fingers. His knuckles lock our hands together when he tightens his grip. It feels like I’m touching a mannequin, smooth and cool, but there’s strength in his raised tendons. For a moment I feel completely safe knowing he’ll get me back to this side of the river.

  But then we step off the bank, and my stomach lurches into my throat.

  The Black River churns beneath our feet. Thousands of tiny whirlpools feed into each other, sucking and spraying, soaking the hem of my pants. I cling to Leander’s arm with every bit of strength I possess and try to see through the haze of light-headedness. Whatever invisible thing is holding us up, I’m not at all confident in its ability to stop me from plunging to my death.

  “It’s okay,” Leander reassures me. “I won’t let you fall.”

  I narrow my gaze across the river. It didn’t look this wide before. “So…” I want to talk about something—anything—but my mind is nothing but static. Leander doesn’t offer anything to talk about either, so I hold my breath until my feet hit solid ground again.

  Leander eases his hand from mine and flexes his fingers. “We’re here.”

  I keep a grip on his arm with numb fingers. The ground is the same as the other side, but I already knew that from the view at the top of the mountain. With a quick breath, I let my gaze wander up and tense at the sight of the arch. Twenty feet of black onyx looms between the bases of two mountains, hidden from the other side of the river. Simple, glossy, curved columns reach up to meet each other midair. I step toward it but Leander grabs my elbow.

  “Stay away from the arch,” he says softly. “Don’t even look at it.”

  “Why?” A soul shimmers in front of me, and I gasp so hard I choke.

  “Get back.” Leander’s voice deepens, carrying across the shore as more and more bodies close in. Their shapes flicker in the sunlight like liquid glass as they stop and stare. Some have solidified spots—cracks, chips, gouges. This is nothing like I imagined. Somehow it’s simultaneously better and worse.

  “I said, get back.” The words rumble from Leander’s throat and the souls disperse. “Okay.” He exhales. “Remember to stay beside me.”

  I nod. Faces keep flashing in and out beside me, as if they’re following our every move. Their eyes are colorless. Their lips turned down, their brows creasing. Resentment rolls off them in waves.

  “They’re confused,” Leander says. “Don’t let them scare you.”

  Scared is the understatement of the year. This easily qualifies for one of my top three terrifying moments, right after being sacrificed i
n the temple and before Theo overhearing my secret. Whatever restless emotion possessed me to come here drains away.

  I open my mouth to tell Leander I want to go back when the arch catches my notice again. It pulls at my chest, calling to me, asking me to come home. Home. A woman stands on the other side in a black and white striped apron. A giant pink lily is tucked behind her right ear. A man stands beside her, his heavy black beard is in desperate need of a trim. Mom? Dad?

  It’s them—my parents. They’re right there in vivid life-like color, exactly the way I remember them. My pulse quickens until the beats become one giant vibration. I release Leander’s arm and my body falls into autopilot. My feet turn toward the arch. My legs carry me closer. One step. Two. My parents seem further away than they were a moment ago. Three steps. They wave me forward. I try to tell them I’m coming, but my mouth is too dry. Four steps.

  A razor sharp sting burns my cheek and I stagger back. Leander stands in front of me, his shoulders rising and falling with labored breaths. His eyes are wild. Frenzied. “Son of a…” He shakes out his hand. “Are you with me, Cassia? Can you hear me?”

  My arm feels detached as I lift a hand to my cheek. “Did you slap me?” I whisper.

  “I’m sorry, I panicked.” He drags a hand down his face. “You were fighting me when I tried to pull you back, and you didn’t seem able to hear me. If you got to the arch, it would’ve been too late.”

  Tears distort my vision, but I refuse to let them fall. It wasn’t real. It couldn’t be real. An illusion, that’s all. “I saw my parents,” I say in a voice more bitter than I mean.

  Leander blinks. “You saw them?”

  “Through there.” I motion to the arch but force my eyes to the ground, unable to bear the thought of seeing them a second time. “I think they wanted me to go with them.”

  Leander glances over his shoulder. His feet shift from my line of sight and he stands beside me. “You’re the first mortal to come here without any intention of crossing,” he says. “Forgive me. I didn’t know it would affect you like that.”

  “Like what?” I rasp. “What was that?”

  He takes my shoulders and gently steers me away from the pillars. The touch drags me back to reality. Tremors rattle my bones. My parents weren’t really there, but they were here last year. They walked this shore, crossed that arch, as one of the shimmering souls. Did they frown too?

  “It’s different for everyone,” he says. “Some souls see their house or a pet. Others see loved ones waiting for them.”

  My head twitches involuntarily back for one last glimpse, but Leander gives my shoulders a light squeeze. He’s right. Looking is dangerous. “What’s on the other side?”

  He watches me with a sorry smile. “I can’t tell you that.”

  I’m not sure if that means he doesn’t know or if he isn’t allowed to tell me, but it doesn’t matter. Knowing might tempt me to turn around and run into my parents’ arms before I’m ready to cross. It’s better to imagine it’s a dark, forbidding void and the souls are someone else’s loved ones if I’m going to come back again tomorrow.

  And I will. I’ve come this far without letting fear make my decisions for me. Because sitting in that castle alone every day will absolutely leave me certifiable by the time this is over, and because, while my parents are unquestionably dead, my brother is not.

  “You’re absolutely sure my brother isn’t here?” I ask.

  “I’m sure.”

  The relief that settles alongside my confusion is short lived. Grief I thought I buried in Kisk nibbles at my spirit. I need to be away from here, at least for today. Leander was right. I should take a moment to adjust to losing Theo before piling on other sorrows. I have an endless supply of tomorrows and right now, my entire being aches with weariness.

  My fingers rap against the desk as one of my western spies, Jonah, pecks away at the keyboard. He gnaws on a toothpick as he types, glaring at the screen over a pair of black rimmed glasses. I try to quiet the storm brewing within myself. To sit still and wait, but it seems an impossible task.

  This is a risky plan. If it works, it will fast track a peace agreement, but it feels like I should be doing more. Taking a more active path. Not finding incriminating evidence on Volkana to hand over to the International Committee of Warfare.

  “No offense but that’s not helping,” Jonah says in a heavy accent.

  I lean back in the leather armchair. He’s been at it for hours, and each second I’m here is another the war still rages. Another that Cassia is in the Netherworld. It took nearly two days to wade through the fog of Ebris and Astra’s betrayal. Once I did, new hues colored the world. Things that were once so vibrant are now dull. Insignificant. I’ve been fighting for the wrong things too long, and I’m desperate to start fighting for the right ones.

  “How much longer?” I ask.

  “My Volk is a little rusty,” Jonah says. “And this is the National Defense Headquarters, not your grandma’s bank account. It isn’t easy to hack into.”

  I scowl. “Why do you know how to do this exactly?”

  He smiles without looking away from the monitor. “You want to know everything at a moments’ notice, right?”

  “Does it matter?” Goran fights a yawn.

  I grunt and push out of the chair to pace the room. Anything to keep me from losing my sanity. I scan the plaques and framed awards covering the wall. Photos of the minister with other dignitaries. A plastic tree swallows an entire corner. Beside it, a half-full coffee pot sits on a short gray filing cabinet. I tug mindlessly on the silver handle of the top drawer, but it doesn’t budge.

  “Hand me a letter opener,” I say.

  Jonah continues typing. “Me?”

  My eye twitches. Apparently once my sacrifices make a cozy life for themselves, they forget who they owe it to. “No, the other person sitting behind the desk,” I snap, harsher than I intend.

  Goran rounds the desk to rummage through its drawers, shaking his head. “Ignore him. He’s having a bit of a rough time,” he says, casting a steady glare in my direction. “Keep working.”

  A rough time.

  I pop my knuckles. My own brother is a saboteur, my sister used her abilities against me, and the girl I have feelings for stabbed me in the back before leaving with Leander. If that doesn’t entitle me to be a little testy, nothing will. Red hot betrayal was the only thing keeping me going those first few days. Tendrils of it still snake through my body, refusing to melt away, but I’m trying. Trying to make things right.

  I grip the handle again and tear the drawer open with a loud, screeching bang. Goran curses under his breath but I tune him out. Arguing when I’m this anxious will undo my carefully wrought restraint.

  I’m not sure what I expected to find inside. Office supplies, maybe, but not hanging folder after hanging folder stamped with red ink. Top Secret. My hand hovers over them, my brows lowered. No one would keep such sensitive documents in their office, especially someone as high as the minister of defense. The janitor could have picked this lock after hours if he had the mind for it.

  “Interesting,” I mutter.

  Pulling a folder from the far left, I skim the pages. It’s a first-hand account of the Kisken prison break at the start of the war. The further I read, the higher my eyebrows climb. Everything in this file is false, except the signatures and seals. “This says the Kiskens were torturing Volks in their prison, and the raid was to rescue their own men.” I snap it shut. “No mention of taking Colonel Stavros or the others.”

  “The Kisken government covered that up.” Goran stands grim in the blue glow of the computer. “No one would suspect…”

  No one would suspect the Colonel is alive, no. Let alone that he was in Volk custody. There’s no reason to question his execution. If they did, the truth is likely buried as deep in the Kisken server as it is in the Volk’s. I should have expected something like this from such a deceitful country, but I hadn’t. I assumed the Volks avoided prose
cution because of their more obvious lies, like the plane they were going to use to drop the antimatter. Not false documents they could hand over in a flat second.

  I lay the folder down beside the coffee and grab one further down the line. A skirmish between Volkana and Asgya, allegedly started when Asgyans shot at them. Another, the taking of an Asgyan base, which was true enough, but the fire that burned it to the ground after wasn’t electrical.

  “Keep looking,” I say to Jonah. The clack of fingers against keys drums against my ears. When I told Cassia war involves layers and layers of deceit, I meant it. Exhaustion bumps against the cracks in my determination. The sooner this war is over, the sooner I can get away from all the lies and live closer to truth.

  “Almost got it,” Jonah says.

  Goran steps across the room and gingerly pulls another folder from the cabinet. “We should destroy these. They’ll give the Committee a reason to doubt the truth.”

  A plan clicks into place as I run my finger over the tabs. “No.”

  “But—”

  “Roll up your sleeves, Goran.” A grin curves my lips. Volkana will tell the truth whether they want to or not. “We’ve got a lot of signatures to forge.”

  “Jackpot.” Jonah leans back in the chair and stretches his arms behind his head. Icons flood the screen, red square upon red square. He leans forward and plugs a small black box into the tower. “Give me a minute and you’ll have what you need.”

  “Print everything,” I say.

  “Everything?” Jonah echoes. “That will take more time than we possibly have.”

  I toss a folder at him and it flops onto the desk. “Find these, then.”

  “What are we doing exactly?” Goran asks.

  “We’re going to replace the false reports with the real ones.” I grab a stack from the cabinet and hand them off to my adviser. “After I give the Committee the external drive, they won’t be able to ignore this anymore. When they come to do an investigation, the minister won’t be handing over falsified documents.”