by David Beers
Truth.
That’s what she had found in the Constant’s courtyard 10 years ago, and that’s what she was going to bring to this world.
“They’re regrouping,” she said. “You all know this.” She looked back down at her lieutenants. “The Ministries are all communicating and readying a counterattack on us. Our people won’t be prepared. More are going to die and the numbers will be much higher.”
She saw nods across the table.
“We know, Rachel,” one of them said.
And they did. But still, she thought it important to remind them.
“None of that matters, though. All of us can die, everyone except for me, and once this is finished, I can too. We’re all just tools to be used as the Unformed sees fit.”
More nods.
She was saying all this, only because she wanted them to remember. Earlier, before they arrived, she saw what was to come. The Unformed had shown her, and now she must tell them some of it. They wouldn’t agree, of course. They would fight it, argue with her, and do almost anything to keep it from happening—the Unformed showed her that too.
She couldn’t tell them everything. They were dedicated, but parts of them might still hold allegiance to fellow humans. Rachel felt no such thing, and the death she saw in the near future … She would lead her people into it, and telling her lieutenants such information now wouldn’t serve that purpose.
She told them what they were ready to hear, what they could tolerate, and no more.
“Listen,” she started. “This is going to be tough to hear.”
Rachel Veritros was right about what the Ministries were doing. Regrouping. Strategizing a counterattack. The four Ministries had been shocked, perhaps more so than any of them individually—or collectively—thought possible. Veritros’s ruthlessness would be spoken about for centuries to come, possibly until the last human took their last breath.
The four couldn’t meet, not like they had in the past or would in the future. They were all trapped within their own Ministry’s strongholds, unable to leave because death waited outside. The cities beyond their strongholds knew only terror—both night and day. The four Ministers received reports and watched live feeds (though the live feeds were growing sparser, as cameras were destroyed). They saw the dead in the streets (or in the case of the True Faith and One Path, watched as they fell through the sky).
“Reach out to her,” someone said, though exactly who was lost with history.
“And do what?” someone else asked.
“Let’s see if we can communicate. Understand what she wants.”
“What she wants is clear. She’s the weapon. The Black.”
“All I’m saying is we rushed things last time. They brought that girl in and tortured her, and they learned nothing from it. If we talk with this woman, maybe we can reach an agreement.”
None of the other three said anything for quite some time.
“It can’t hurt. What’s the worst that can happen?”
“She kills us. That’s the worst.”
“We’re not going to actually meet her, you idiot. We’ll do just as we are now, holographic meetings.”
“We could bring her to us, though.”
“Why in the hell would we do that?” someone asked.
“Because if we do, we might be able to kill her.”
“Hold on,” a Minister said. “First we’re talking about reaching a truce, of having made mistakes in the past, and now we’re talking about making the same mistakes again?”
“We can do both. We can bring her to us, and if she won’t hear reason, then we kill her.”
“What if she kills us? Even if it’s just one at a time. Clearly that’s a possibility,” one of the four said.
“She has hold of our cities now because we weren’t prepared. She can’t hold them forever, and if she’s smart, she’ll know that.”
Silence fell on them briefly.
“So it’s agreed, we’ll bring her to one of our strongholds?”
The other three agreed, although reluctantly.
“Who will reach out?”
“She’s from the Constant Ministry, so the Most Revered Representative should reach out. That’s you, Winsing.”
More silence and then Winsing spoke. “Okay. I’ll see what she says.”
“We’ll need to make preparations, because no matter what happens, we must get what we want out of this meeting.”
The four left the conversation with murder in their hearts. Despite what their Gods said—and perhaps this held true for all humans of all times—when life is threatened, one fights back.
“The Most Revered is going to ask me to meet with the Ministries,” Rachel said.
She was leaning back in her chair, studying her lieutenants’ reactions.
None said anything for a moment, not quite stunned, but as close to it as she had seen them. No one asked how she knew, though. Rachel hadn’t been asked such things in many years.
“You’re not going to, right?” Reynold asked. “You’re not going to meet them?”
“I am.”
“What?” Werner asked, true surprise in his voice.
“I’m going to accept their offer.”
“Why would you ever do that?”
Rachel had known this would come, their rebuttals. She looked at Brail. “Because I’m going to tell them what will happen, what we are, and what comes after us. I’m going to give them a final chance to join.”
“Rachel,” Corey said and then paused for a moment. “ … They’re going to try to kill you. They’ll try to end everything we’ve done, everything you’ve done for the past 10 years. You can’t risk that.”
She nodded. “It’s not a risk. I’ve seen what is to happen in the meeting, and I must go. It’s the Unformed’s will, not mine.”
“You’re sure about that?” Brail asked, the first real challenge to her. “You’re sure this isn’t your wish, instead of Its?”
“I am.”
“Because I’m having a tough time understanding why our God would want to send Its emissary to talk with people It doesn’t care about converting. People It doesn’t need to convert. People that can’t possibly understand It, that don’t even want to. You’re not making a lot of sense, Rachel.”
She looked at him but held her back against the chair. Trying to stay calm. Right now, she didn’t need to let her temper grab hold of her. These four had followed her and would continue doing so, and they deserved respect for it.
And yet, Rachel didn’t like the tone in Brail’s voice.
“You don’t need to understand any of it. That’s not your place here, unless I’ve been mistaken?”
He held her eyes, but only for a second. He looked down at the table. “I … I know, Rachel. My point is you’re risking a lot by going to them, and is it necessary? Is it really?”
Rachel turned to the others, their eyes still on her. “It’s necessary. I’m not going to tell you why yet, but you’ll all see soon.”
“When will they make contact?”
“Today or tomorrow.”
“When will you meet them?”
“By the end of the week.”
“They’ll try to kill you?” Reynold asked.
Rachel nodded. “Yes. They’ll try to bargain first, and when they don’t get what they want, they’ll try to kill me.”
“Can we be there?” Corey said.
“No. I’m going alone.”
The four grew quiet then, all clearly frightened but unable to do anything.
“Okay,” Rachel said. “Let’s talk about what you’ll do while I’m gone.”
Rachel changed the subject and the five of them talked for hours longer.
She had told them the truth, though not all of it. There was a reason for meeting these Ministries. Rachel just didn’t know it yet. She’d seen that she would go, and what they would ask her, but the Unformed hadn’t shown her why.
What was the reason behind it?
Because Brail, even in his insolence, made very good points. It was a risk, and maybe they could actually kill her. She had them on the defensive, and should focus on keeping it that way. She needed to continue creating diversions all the way up until the moment that they realized none of the death, nor destruction, mattered.
Yet, going to them accomplished none of that.
Her four lieutenants eventually left, and Rachel sat alone in her home. Their plans were in place. They would lose ground and followers, but holding position or advancing wasn’t the point. Rachel was okay with all of it.
She waited in her house for the contact that she knew was coming, trying not to focus on the reason behind it. Rachel, above all else, held faith in the Unformed. It would tell her when the time was right.
Rachel Veritros had been guaranteed safe passage, though all involved knew it was a lie. Veritros’s side made threats, of course, that if she didn’t return, every city across Earth would burn to the ground. It didn’t matter. If their Prophet died, unrest would shortly follow.
She stepped out of her transport and looked at the large building in front of her. The Constant’s Citadel. Her lieutenants had tried pressuring her to meet in a neutral place, but she’d seen this image before in her mind. Her stepping from the transport, her feet touching the perfectly white walkway, and looking up at the massive structure which held the Constant’s Representatives.
This is where she was supposed to be.
Nowhere neutral, but in the heart of the enemy.
Escorts—guards—walked her from the transport and through gates stretching a hundred feet into the air. The gates opened slowly, all pomp and performance to let in a woman and four guards.
Rachel did, though, cross into the Citadel’s embrace.
Chronicling the beauty of what Rachel Veritros saw inside would be time consuming, and while the hands of man could create miraculous objects, it has no direct bearing on what happened that day. It suffices to say that she took in everything during her long march across the Citadel, and that such a march was probably intended to make her feel small. It had no such effect, and only showed how little the people in charge understood their enemy.
Rachel Veritros entered a large chamber, and was brought to the center. The ceiling was curved in a dome, and the chamber empty of any furniture or adornments. The walls were bare, made of red brick, and besides the venting on the ceiling, there was little else to see.
The door she had walked through slammed shut.
The guards that had walked with her now moved against the walls, spreading themselves evenly across the room.
None of this had been what was discussed, but Rachel was okay with it. She had seen this. All of it, from the high, curved ceiling, to the guards standing 25 feet apart. It had all been prophesied, and so she felt comfortable falling into her place.
She still wondered why. The answer had not been delivered yet.
“Rachel Veritros.”
The air in front of her lit up with four faces, the Ministries personified. Their faces hung huge, 15 feet tall and 15 feet wide. The four digital panels curved slightly around Rachel, hanging above her so that she had to look up.
She said nothing, but only stared into their giant faces.
“Your quarantine here is clearly for our protection. Your aggressiveness throughout the four Ministries has caused innumerable atrocities, and it should be obvious that we fear for our safety.”
Rachel remained quiet. The conversation was taking place just as she’d seen. The words the exact same, the pacing between them even identical.
“We want to know what you want, Rachel,” the High Priest said to her left. She knew it was him because she’d heard the rumors about the True Faith keeping their Priests completely bald. Looking at him, she found it quite odd and took a second before speaking, ensuring she wouldn’t smile at such silliness.
“What I want doesn’t matter. I’m a vessel for what’s coming next.”
“And what is It? You know we’ve met It before, and you know we beat It … Do you even know what It is?”
“The only God this universe will ever meet.”
There were no calls of blasphemy, nor for her immediate death. They were taking her seriously now.
“Then what does It want?” another Minister asked.
Rachel blinked.
She hadn’t foreseen this question. It wasn’t supposed to come next. No, the next one should have been, Where is It?
“Hello?” someone asked.
What does It want?
Rachel snapped back to reality, forcing herself to look at the hanging faces.
“It wants what is rightfully Its. This Earth.”
One of the Ministers laughed. “And what gives It that right?”
Rachel ignored the question, but only kept staring forward. Seconds passed in silence, and then another giant face spoke.
“We want a truce. We want a truce with It, and with you, and your followers. This has gone too far, Veritros. The death has to stop.”
Rachel looked at her feet. The conversation was resuming the tracks it should be on, but the questions from moments before still jarred her.
What does It want?
“The death will stop when you step down from your posts. When you renounce your gods and take on the one true God in the Unformed, and when It is Formed, you will bow.”
The words were supposed to be said, just like everything else, but Rachel felt no conviction in them.
“That won’t happen, and you know it. We understand that this creature who contacted you is powerful. We’re not denying that, and we’re not looking to kill It. We want a truce, some sort of disarmament. We want peace.”
Rachel looked up from the floor at the speaker. She thought it was the One Path, the only Ministry to have a woman as their leader.
“There is no truce with fate. You can’t bargain it away.” She took in a deep breath and felt herself returning, pushing away the earlier question with the same force that had forged her rebellion. “I’m not here to grant quarter. I’m here so that I can accept your unconditional surrender, and then the death will end.”
“Tell us how you met It,” someone on the right asked.
“It came to me. I didn’t go to It. That would have been impossible.”
“Listen, we need to know more about what we’re dealing with, especially if you’re asking for us to surrender. What are we surrendering to? When will It arrive? What will happen?”
Rachel closed her eyes.
“You’re surrendering to a being outside of this universe. It will arrive within the month. I do not dictate what will happen when It does. What other questions do you have?”
She kept her eyes closed, hoping that the conversation would change from the path she saw it taking. If she had a preference, they would surrender, and the death could stop. Her singular goal was to clear the way for the Unformed, and if people could be spared, then so be it.
“We would like to study you.”
“I’m here. Study me.”
“You know what we mean. We would like you to volunteer to have our scientists look at you, to understand what’s happening. You’re sacrificing your own kind for some creature that no one knows anything about. You may very well be committing genocide of your entire species.”
She opened her eyes. “And if your gods asked you to kill, would you not do it? Have you not already done it? Have entire populations not been wiped from the Earth because your books said it should be? How is what I’m doing any different?”
“You’re talking about complete annihilation.”
“No,” Rachel said. “The Unformed’s followers will survive.”
“What you’re asking … it’s not possible. We’re not going to surrender mankind.”
“Then our meeting has concluded,” Rachel said.
“A week,” one of the Ministers said. “Give us one week with you, and after that, this bloody war can continue.”
Rachel looked at the Minister for a few seconds without saying anything. She smiled. “A week with me, and you guarantee I survive it?”
“Yes.”
“Do you think I’m the same girl who was born into the Constant? The one who was perfectly content growing up on a campus without ever having seen the opposite sex? Do you think my trust in you knows no bounds? Do you still think I’m one of your subjects?”
“We’re looking for a way out of this, for all involved,” someone said. “Don’t forget, we won last time, Veritros. We stopped your god.”
Why am I here? she wondered as she looked at the faces before her. The conversation had come to an end, and she understood that. There was nowhere else for either side to go, no more paths for their words to take. They would not surrender and neither would she. No quarter would be granted.
Why am I here?
No answer came, though. Rachel knew there was only one thing left to do. It’d already been prophesied. She had to decide whether to stand here and break with what the Unformed showed her should happen, or to follow the directions It gave. For Rachel Veritros, there really was no decision. The Unformed’s will be done.
Rachel looked slowly across the four faces, all old and grave, as if smiles hadn’t crossed their lips in long, long years. Rachel wondered if the same would happen to her. If in 50 years her face would look as though it had never known joy.
No. I follow truth. Lies created the people in front of me.
Rachel closed her eyes for a second, and when she opened them, her eyes were gray fire.
While we paid little attention to details when Rachel Veritros entered the Citadel, at this point it would probably be worth a closer look.
Inside of the brick room her eyes were alight, and the outside structures stood as normal. A hundred foot high stone wall created the Citadel’s border, cutting it off from possible invaders (though there had been no attempts in the 7,000 years it stood). Vast numbers of buildings sat inside the wall, a city in itself truly, but the most massive stood in the middle. A domed building without gold adorning it, but instead sky blue reflected the sunlight that shone down. Large pillars adorned the edge of the circular structure, and it was the only building to stand higher than the stone wall. One could see the blue dome for miles and miles.