by T. C. Edge
"You think Kovas would do that? He has assumed power now. He doesn't seem the sort of man who would want to give it up."
I snarl at the thought of the cruel little man. "No," I grunt. "He won't."
"Then there's no point in even revealing to them that Perses is alive. Why waste that secret when it will take us nowhere? And if the Overseer is really the one in charge, then we know full well that he'll agree to no such deal. He wants Brie, as Nestor did. He won't give her up for anything, and we can be sure she'll be under constant, and substantial, guard."
She lets out a breath of frustration and shakes her head. "Brie's fate is not something you need to concern yourself with, Amber," she tells me. "We will figure something out, in time. Your task, as you know, is just as important. You have a role to play in the future of your lands, and one that may just prove pivotal here too."
She moves towards the door, and opens it up. "Follow me, child. They are waiting."
118
OK, I think to myself. Where exactly to start...
I stand outside of the room, pacing back and forward past the door. Thinking. Just thinking of how to approach all this. Around me, standing guard, are a half dozen soldiers, including two huge Titans, known as Brutes here. All are well armed. All hold the countenance of seasoned soldiers. It is a safeguard against a foe they know to be formidable.
Because inside the room, past the door, a beast is beginning to stir.
"He's been given medication to bring him out of his coma," the President tells me, peering through the window into the hospital room. On the bed, Herald Perses lies. I note that the bed itself has now changed, updated to a more secure one, with straps and shackles to lock down his arms and legs.
It's a lot of security, especially for a man whose powers remain subdued and suppressed. I can't exactly blame them, though. Should even a portion of his powers awaken somehow, he could cause some serious damage.
And that's why I'm here.
"We want you to be the first face he sees," the President goes on. "You were the last he saw, so it makes sense that you're the first to greet him at his rebirth."
"Rebirth," I say, nodding. It's an appropriate term to describe just what this is. He really did die that night. I still find it impossible that he's still alive. "I like that."
"So do I. It has a positive ring to it, doesn't it?" she says. "Now go ahead, Amber. First Perses, and then Elian. I'm sure you have a lot to cover."
I gulp, thinking of the various dramas we've faced together, and the weighty task I've been set.
"I've got things to do," the President finishes. "A war to help run, and all that. I'll return later on to hear of your progress. Secretary Burns will be on hand, too, to lend his support, when the time comes."
"And...when will that be?"
"As soon as you tell him. We don't want the likes of Perses reacting as you did yesterday, Amber. People could get hurt. Even without his powers he's an extremely large man, and Secretary Burns would be vulnerable."
"And that's why you've got this lot around?" I say, glancing in particular at the two massive Titans nearby. Perses is big, but he's not that big.
"Precisely. They will be on standby, as they were with you yesterday, should there be a problem. But we'd rather it didn't come to that. It would only take a moment for Perses to cause serious harm. And the same could be said of Elian too."
"I can be there," I say, nodding. "I'll do what you're asking, obviously, and speak to them. But...I can be there too, when Secretary Burns tries to deprogram them. If it would help."
"It might. You'll have to work that out together. For now, keep it simple. Just speak with them. See if you can get through to them. We're counting on you, Amber."
She places her hand to my arm, and smiles at me. It's nice, I must say, to be needed, to have a purpose I actually believe in. I feel a new resolve spread through me as she moves off, the burden of the Prime no longer so heavy within me. It's hard to explain, really, unless you've been through it. It was such a subtle growth, malignant, and yet almost undetectable as it swelled and took me over from within. Now that it's gone - or, mostly gone - I feel so free, so myself again.
I turn to look into the hospital room, my chest pulsing with a combined sense of purpose and nerves. And just as I see Perses beginning to stir, I take a breath, set my mind to the task, and step right inside.
My thoughts fill once again with the memory of Perses's last moments, his death, as I look at him beginning to wake.
He is a man reborn now, his body marked with a few more scars, his mind and soul perhaps a little more broken from the experience of losing his life, and having it bloom within him again.
He told me once that he'd died many times before, though I never took it as literal. Perhaps, I now think, he was being quite honest. Perhaps he has fallen, ostensibly dead, only to have been revived again as he has been here.
I wait for him to come around, for his eyes to open fully, for his mind to reengage. The common reaction would be one of panic, of fear, of confusing, eyes working left and right in a manic bid to work out what's happened.
Perses, however, is not common.
He is not like most people.
His reaction is, therefore, quite different. With a slow and steady breath, he seems to escape his induced sleep without the usual confusion and muddled mind that would infect others. His eyes languidly work around the room, his expression showing little emotion at all. Only when he finds me there, by his side - I, myself, am unable to stay quite so calm as he comes around - does his face work into another expression.
A smile, calm, serene, and paternal, works up onto his face.
It is quite a departure from how I last saw him, mumbling incoherently, losing himself as the blood loss became too great, stumbling and falling and displaying a vulnerability that broke my heart out there in the blackened woods.
His time in recovery, in the depths of this coma, has sealed up those wounds. He has returned, once more, fully formed and keen of mind. There is no panic, no distress. With a quick appraisal, he appears to know exactly what has happened, and where we are.
"Amber," he says, his dark eyes holding my gaze as I shiver before him, trying to stop my eyes from watering too much. "It is so good to see you again. I hoped I might."
I stare at him, awed by his relaxed demeanour, his well practiced composure. He seems to know what I'm thinking, owing by the look on his face.
"You...knew you'd come back?" I ask him, shocked. "You knew you'd return?"
He nods, eyes quickly scanning the room once more. He shifts a little, though his hands remain locked to the arms of the bed, his upper body sat up, his ankles similarly locked in place in heavy leather straps. He draws an almost wry smile at his current predicament, completely unfazed.
"I never know for sure," he says. "And at the time, I wasn't in my right mind. But, deep down, I had faith, Amber. To wake up here in Haven, however, is something of a surprise."
"New Haven," I say, correcting him. "They've renamed it New Haven now."
I step in, so happy to hear his voice, to see his waking eyes. All of the trauma of his death abandons me in that moment. Yet as it slips away, the suspicions of just how he fell remain.
"I need to know what happened, Perses," I say, my voice growing so serious, my manner the same. "I hear you fought Ares? Was it him who inflicted these wounds on you. Did...did Kovas have anything to do with it?"
He gently shakes his head, thinking back on those days. "I had my differences with Herald Kovas," he said, "but I'm not certain that I can blame him for this. It was everything, Amber. The inferno weakened me and my armour. My bout with Commander Ares did the same. I haven't fought anyone as formidable as him in all my years. And when I sensed you needed my help, I had to come and give it."
"So," I say, dipping my head, the realisation falling like a stone in my gut, "it was my fault. This wasn't Kovas's doing, but...mine."
"By no means is that the ca
se, Amber," he says reassuringly. "You cannot have known what was going to happen."
"I ran off alone, Perses," I say. "You died out there because I was reckless. Of course it's my fault."
I hear him pulling on his straps, as though trying to reach out to offer me comfort. They hold his wrist in place, drawing his eyes again. "It seems my strength isn't what it used to be," he says, managing a smile.
"They...they have us drugged," I tell him, though I'm sure he already knows. "Just in case we, you know..."
"I understand," he nods. "They would be foolish not to." He draws a breath, sighing, though with a look of mild satisfaction on his face. I suppose, after pretty much dying, to wake up again is quite the boon. "They need not fear me," he says softly. "I have no intention of causing them harm..."
"Elian is here too," I find myself saying, all but blurting the words out. He looks over towards me, that smile fading. "We were captured during the battle yesterday morning. He's here, right now, in the hospital."
"I see," he says smoothly, thinking. "I would like to speak with him. There are things he needs to hear."
"His father," I say, the words sprinting from my mouth. "He says...he says you killed him. That's why he left us that night."
"I know why he left," he whispers. "And he had every right to do so."
"So it's true?" I ask, my heart pulsing a little harder. "You killed Master Prost."
His head dips into a single nod, his eyes blinking slowly. "It is true," he says. "But it is more complicated than you may know."
"I know," I say. "Of course I know. He thinks you killed his father in cold blood. I knew it wouldn't be as simple as that."
"I suspect that it was Herald Kovas who informed him," Perses says, his deep voice rumbling softly through the room. "He wished to create friction among the leadership, increase his influence, and force his own agenda. Telling Elian, skewing the truth...well, that would certainly have achieved it."
"It was him," I confirm. "I spoke with Elian about it."
Perses nods once more, a framing of guilt on his face. "I wouldn't want you thinking I'm a murderer, Amber," he rumbles. "If that is what you have been told."
"I never thought that," I assure him, my voice firm and filled with grit. "I had it out with Elian. I told him that if you killed his dad, then you must have had a reason."
His eyes lift to the door, taking in the shadows of the soldiers waiting outside. "I will speak with him," he says. "He deserves to know the truth."
"I could ask for that to happen," I suggest, following his gaze. "I might be able to get them to take you through to him. Or...bring Elian here."
"We'll get to that, Amber," he says, his voice calm as it always was, so commanding. "First, I'd like to know what has happened with you. It seems that the fight has gone ill for us?"
I nod, my nerves blooming once again. I need to tell him what happened, and that involves speaking of his part. Somehow, I doubt he's going to like it.
"I...I'm not exactly certain," I say. "There was a battle outside the city yesterday morning. That's when Elian and I were captured. It was like the ambush in the woods," I explain. "We didn't see the attack coming."
I see his expression change subtly, his eyes turning distant for a moment, pensive. Before he speaks, I sense that he's already working it out.
"They knew of our strategy," he whispers, his voice softening. "They discovered it in me, didn't they? In my mind."
His keen eyes work straight for mine, quick to see the truth on my face.
"Yes," I say, seeing no reason to try to hide the truth from a man like him. "They...they knew what your...plans were." I say the word with a hint of spite as I think of what he had intended, my voice darkening just a touch.
Once more, he regards me carefully, scanning my changing expression as my mind fills with my intended purpose. I don't blame him for that, not really, now that I know just how deep the Prime's manipulations go. But still, I can't help but be slightly hurt by the fact that he never told me. Never revealed to me my true task. Too afraid, perhaps, of how I might react.
"I didn't want this for you," he says quietly, looking at me, knowing. "I tried to convince the others to follow another strategy. Destroying the whole city, killing so many innocent people." He shakes his head. "It wasn't a path I wanted to follow."
"Kovas," I nod. "This was what he was pushing for."
"It was the Prime's intention," Perses says. "I had no recourse to question them, but found my resolve weakening as the days wore on, and we drew further from Olympus. I tried to figure out another way. I spoke about it openly with Kovas. It...it led to friction between us. He said I was wavering. He questioned my dedication to the Prime..."
My heart begins to race at his words. It seems a perfect moment to pounce, to speak to him about the Prime as I've been asked to do. To tell him of what the Havenites have planned, of what they want to achieve.
Kill the Prime, I think. Replace them with...you.
"It wasn't the right way," I say, speaking through a nervous breath. "You were right, Perses. The Prime...they were wrong."
I steel myself for a reaction, perhaps wondering if my words might have triggered something deep inside him, some defence mechanism within his years of programming and subtle manipulation.
His answer surprises me, his eyes darkening as he nods.
"I know," he says. "And Kovas...he was right to call my dedication into question. He was right...because it's true. I am wavering, Amber."
My face brightens in hope as I look at the man. Is he strong enough to escape the Prime's controls on his own? I wonder. Has his death and rebirth, perhaps, stripped him of their programming?
The thought gives me hope. Somehow, it makes perfect sense.
"It was Brie who managed to get into my head, wasn't it?" he asks me. "She got around my defences?"
"Yes. It was her."
"And now she's been taken," he continues, nodding to himself, a curious expression on his face. "The Overseer will bring her to Olympus. He will bring her to the Prime. They will seek to use her, turn her into a weapon as they have you, and me..."
"How...how do you know that?" I ask him, cutting in, confused. "You've been in a coma all this time. How could you possibly know that Brie was taken captive?"
He doesn't answer for a moment, as though trying to choose the appropriate words. I cannot for the life of me work out what they could be. I have no clue as to how he might know.
"Did you overhear something?" I ask, too impatient to wait. "Were you still semi-conscious while in the coma? They say you can still hear things, right? You heard soldiers talking about it. You...you heard it from me. I was in here yesterday while you were sleep..."
"Amber," he whispers, raising a half smile. "Too many questions, young one. Calm your tongue."
I splutter to a stop, take a breath, and wait once more.
Eventually, he gives me an answer.
"I was told," he says. "I was told Brie had been taken."
A heavy frown tumbles over my golden eyes. I try to figure it out, but can't.
"But you were in a coma," I say, feeling stupid that I have to state the obvious. "Who...who told you?"
His expression shifts again. "This," he says, "might be hard for you to understand. It isn't something I have spoken of before. Before, there never was a point. Now, I find, it is very relevant indeed."
I sigh and shake my head. "Perses, what on earth are you talking about?" I say. "Is this some sort of riddle?"
"No riddle, child," he says. "But something you might, perhaps, consider mystical."
"Try me," I say, eager and yet slightly wary. "I've seen a lot of crazy stuff over the last few months. I don't think anything would surprise me now."
He smiles as he looks at me, drawing a breath, still shackled to the bed. I wish he wasn't. It's not so easy talking to someone like this, when they cannot use any form of body language to express themselves.
But then again, he can'
t exactly go anywhere either. If I want to ask some difficult questions, then now is most certainly the time.
"You know, don't you, that the President here is Brie's grandmother?" he asks.
I nod. "President Orlando? Sure, I found out yesterday."
"And that the former Director, Artemis Cromwell, is her grandfather?"
"Yeah. He was being held captive in our camp. I saw Brie there yesterday, during the battle. She was there trying to get him out."
"She was," he nods slowly, apparently knowing it all already. "And that's how she was captured. But did you know that she had a brother too? Did you know she had a twin?"
I shake my head, trying to figure out how it's relevant. "No," I say. "What...had? He's dead?"
"He was killed during the final battle against the Cure almost a year ago," Perses says sombrely. "He gave his life for Brie's, saving his twin sister. Like her, he was a very gifted telepath. And when he died, she was right there with him, in his head. And a part of him...survived."
"Survived?" I say, my frown refusing to budge. "I don't understand, Perses."
"Ever since his corporeal death in this, our physical world," he explains, drawing a breath, "a part of him has remained, existing on another plane. A plane that I have visited before. I plane I have only just awoken from."
I stare at him, his words sinking in. "An...afterlife?" I whisper, scarcely able to believe it.
He shakes his head. "No, this is something in-between," he says. "I call it the spectral realm, a place where spirits can reside in limbo, caught between life and death. I was there, Amber, during my death, before my body was re-awoken. And it is there that I met Brie's brother, locked within limbo, neither fully dead nor fully living. Existing, now, only to aid his sister on her path."
My eyes continue to stare, trying to keep up, trying to understand. I might have seen and heard all sorts of things recently, but this might just be the most fantastical thing of all.
And yet, I don't doubt it either.
I don't understand it fully, but I trust that what Perses is saying is real.