I couldn’t tell if this was a hallucination. I searched his beaten, bloody face, waiting for his image to fade. It didn’t. “How are you here?”
He readjusted positions, wincing in pain. “I’m not sure. Zira stabbed me in the chest.”
“With his scythe?”
Adrial nodded.
“You can’t regenerate from a scythe wound.”
“Yes, I know.”
“But you regenerated from a scythe wound.”
He frowned, annoyed. “It sounds like you’re disappointed that I’m still alive.”
“No, just really confused.”
Adrial opened his mouth to reply, but was silenced as blurs formed around us.
Zira had brought the cavalry. The look on his face suggested I needn’t tell him that he was too late.
The other guardians gathered around us, gazing solemnly at Calenus’s decimated statue.
Zira’s expression was hardened with shock, but softened when he realized Oran’s scent was gone. His attention moved to Adrial, and he approached.
We were in no condition to fight. I wasn’t even half-way regenerated and Adrial looked like a craft had hit him at supersonic speed.
Zira stopped a foot away and knelt. He bowed his head.
Around us, the other guardians did the same.
I watched, confused, but a feeling washed over me and I knew.
“Hail, Violet King,” Zira said, struggling to sound genuine. The others repeated his salutation, three times.
Calenus had been the only male noble left in the Court of Enigmus. Adrial had ascended to nobility on the brink of death. That explained that.
Qaira!
All of us heard Yahweh’s cry, and we turned in unison toward the fractured mezzanine of Akkaroz’s cephalon.
~*~
Blurred are the lines between beginning and end.
O
IN CONCLUSION
Seyestin Trede—;
THERE WAS A KNOCK AT MY OFFICE DOOR.
“Come in,” I said. My attention never strayed from the document scrolling across the holosphere on my desk.
The door opened and in stepped my First General. He touched the Argentian crest on his uniform. In his other hand was an envelope. He placed it on my desk. “I was told that this was urgent, Commander.”
“If it’s urgent why didn’t they send word over port-Aeon?” I muttered, examining the mail. I read the receiver’s credentials and rolled my eyes. Of course; only he would write me a note on paper. I tossed the unopened envelope aside. “I’ll get to it later. Thank you, General.”
“Sir,” he said, taking his leave.
No sooner had the door closed, my Aeon chimed. I checked the frequency.
“Oh, for Heaven’s sake,” I sighed, answering the call.
Hello, Commander Vakkar.
Commander Trede, greeted Belial. I’m following up on the invitation list that I sent you.
Yes, that arrived about a minute ago.
Well, have you opened it?
No.
I need your approval of the angel guest list or else I can’t book the venue.
You own the venue.
Exactly why I don’t want to guess on the budget, Commander Trede.
I sighed, again. Very well. I’ll read it over and get back to you by the end of today. Has the bride-to-be decided on her choice of gift from the Argent Court?
The bride-to-be asks that you use some imagination and decide on one yourselves.
Very well. I’ll round up my most creative staff.
I look forward to hearing from you.
Belial severed the call before I could respond. The Atrium’s midday sun cast a momentary glare through my office windows and I looked out at Crylle in reflection. Then, I massaged my head and finished reading the document.
*
Two nights later, Belial and Samnaea held their pre-wedding ceremony in Lohr. Fifty-three Archaean officials were in attendance to celebrate alongside the demon court.
Lohr had been rebuilt to mirror Tehlor. Here, Arts and Entertainment thrived. Schools for performing arts, high-designed living spaces, eateries, theaters and auditoriums lined the white-paved streets. The atmosphere was a collision of modernism and traditionalism; it wasn’t even a shock to find several angel students socializing with demon friends under low-hanging cantilever umbrellas, the scent of lilac in the air as cigarettes burned between their fingertips.
Belial and I had begun an act of slow-integration, allowing a hundred demon or angel students cross-scholarships. It was difficult at first; much prejudice was conveyed, but it was amazing how plastic young celestials were. Acts of prejudice was a crime that held equal weight with high treason, the sentence one hundred years in prison.
Integrated employment was initiated by the reopening of the Plexus, replacing the Celestial Court in Moritoria. Heaven and Hell were in talks of making fully-integrated cities on the border of Avernai and having demon and angel professors teach at their “contending” schools. There had already been viable births of demon-angel celestials. Perhaps in several millennia demons and angels would be indistinguishable from one another.
Little by little, we honored Yahweh’s final order.
The ceremony had a lot of alcohol and dancing, orchestral music and food. Belial and Samnaea stood arm-in-arm at the center of the hall, surrounded by patrons that showered them with gifts and praise. Both were beaming.
…Which I found very weird, even after five decades of their courtship. When Belial and Samnaea were evidently growing intimate, I’d questioned why he had suddenly fallen in love with a woman who’d killed his former wife and attempted to get him hanged for treason.
She’s passionate, he’d said. The world’s different now and anybody dedicated enough to nearly ruin me deserves me.
I still didn’t understand what that had meant. I’m not sure Belial did, either.
After slipping away from my group in the middle of the ceremony, I retreated to the empty reception desk and traversed another hallway used for conferences. At this hour it was deserted, but Belial had given me the proper coordinates.
Atop a large executive table sat a podium with a floating sphere; it had come from Cerasaraelia’s library. Slowly I brushed its surface, my fingertips tickled by tiny blue sparks.
I took a seat, and waited.
*
Ten minutes later, the podium lit the room in blue iridescence, pulsing three times. Then the light faded, immersing me in cool darkness.
“Greetings, Commander Trede,” said a voice to my left.
I turned, settling my eyes on Yahweh Telei for the first time in fifty years. He wore the Court of Enigmus uniform, its sigil burning across his breast. A strip of black leather etched with scarlet Exo’daian script concealed his scarred eye. He seemed older, but knew it was just a deception that his uniform gave.
“It’s been too long,” I said. “Hopefully you’re not busy. I figured that they’d send you if I contacted your court.”
“Not terribly,” said Yahweh, leaning against the frame and crossing his arms. “What do I owe the pleasure?”
“An update,” I said.
He waved a hand. “No need. I read your news.” At my subsequent surprise, he grinned. “You and Belial are doing a wonderful job. Tell him I said congratulations for his marriage to Samnaea.”
I left the chair and headed toward the door. “You can tell him that yourself. He wants to speak to you in private.”
Yahweh tilted his head, intrigue playing across his face. “I’ll wait here.”
I bowed in departure—which was more habit than necessity anymore—and returned to the banquet to fetch Hell’s Commander.
***
Belial Vakkar—;
“Young Commander!” I exclaimed while stepping through the door. At my bold entrance, Yahweh jumped. “Thank you so much for coming.”
“My pleasure,” said Yahweh. “Seyestin told me you have something private to d
iscuss?”
I closed the door gently, reaching into my suit pocket. “Not to discuss, to give.”
Yahweh’s eyes trailed to my glove as it retrieved the note. I handed it to him and he unfolded it, reading it over. Something changed on his face—a crack in his collected façade—and Yahweh looked at me.
“Who gave you this?”
“That nutty half of Leid. She asked me to give it to Qaira, but there’s a fat chance he’d ever want to come back here. I figure you could deliver it to him.”
Yahweh raised his brows. “You held on to this for fifty years.”
“You haven’t been back since and I’m not brazen enough to dial the godkiller hotline like Commander Trede.”
“I’m surprised you didn’t just crumple the note and toss it off the side of our ship.”
“I made a promise. She was dying and I felt bad.”
Yahweh smiled. “That’s comforting.”
I scoffed, feigning insult. “Anyway, there’s the letter. Tell Qaira hello from me.”
When he left I gave a huge sigh of relief to the empty room. I grabbed my cane that was hooked on the back of an executive chair.
There, it was done. I’d washed my hands of it. And so died any modicum of information regarding Micah Triev’s identity. Tomorrow was a shiny new day.
***
Yahweh Telei—;
I walked up the hill overlooking the Kel’Hanna Scar, slowing to admire the scenery. My attention rose to the obsidian spires of Enigmus as I crossed the gate into the courtyard. It was quiet, save for my footsteps against the path.
It was always quiet.
Passing the library and observatory, I murmured hello to Sapphi and Zira, who leaned against the upper railing of the winding staircase. They nodded, although there was no warmth to their expressions. I felt their eyes on me all the way around the corner. Some of us were still sore about the Violet Ascension, which was understandable. Zira was the oldest guardian, but for some reason nobility had passed him up. The only working theory we had was that Adrial’s resonance was stronger because his noble was still alive.
… Technically.
I stepped through the static, rippling doorway of Research Quadrant Four. If one ever wanted to find Qaira while he was off-contract, they first checked RQ4.
Because Leid was in RQ4.
She was encapsulated in cylindrical glass, immersed in absorbent electrolyte fluid. It was laced with 13.4% apoptosis inhibitor serum—now branded Somnia by the court—that kept her brain activity barely above a comatose threshold while whatever metamorphosis took place. In the fifty years she’d been asleep, the black veins had disappeared. Leid looked like Leid again. But still she slept.
Sure enough, Qaira was stationed at a desk ten feet away, browsing attica.
For the first forty years he had been a wreck. Two times he’d gone rogue on a contract and we’d drug him back from whatever otherworldly bar he’d happened to stumble across, kicking and screaming all the way to Enigmus. Adrial had placed him on probation, twice.
Ten years ago Leid’s hideous physical deformities (sickly-gray skin, hollow eyes, animated veins) miraculously went away. That had brought him a small bit of hope and slowly he changed. Qaira was still himself, although the sudden sign of possible recovery made him realize that if he and Leid ever stood any chance at a real life, he would have to conform to the Exodian customs. Since then he’d been on relatively-good behavior.
At my entry Qaira glanced over. “Back already?”
“Good, you’re still here,” I said.
“For another couple of hours,” he grumbled.
“What are you learning?”
“Planetary geography and geophysics.”
He’d just signed a five year contract from Sigma-7; planetary reformation. Changing the environment to better suit the needs of interstellar settlers.
“What did Heaven want? I saw their signal.”
“To give you something, actually.”
Qaira lifted a brow. “And what’s that?”
I tossed it on the table. He picked it up. I watched his eyes trail over the script, and then he blanched. “Who gave this to you?”
“It’s from Oraniquitis. She gave it to Belial before her death.”
Qaira squinted. “Why would she give this to me?”
“Probably because she figured you were going to be her next costume. Maybe she needed to remember a few clues? Honestly I have no idea.”
He said nothing, looking at the note again. “You tell Adrial yet?”
“No, not yet.”
*
“Hey,” Qaira said upon our entry through Adrial’s study. He held up the note. “We’ve got a situation.”
Adrial leaned back in his chair, placing the square, translucent attica log on his desk. A glass of wine sat beside him. “And this situation is of no coincidence to the fact that you’re set to leave this evening.”
“Read it.”
He did. Then, he reread it. “Where did you get this?”
“Yahweh got it from Belial, who got it from Oran.”
Adrial blinked. “Oraniquitis sent us a message?”
“My theory is she was trying to send herself a message,” I said. “Assuming Qaira was her new body.”
The note was written in Exo’daian, containing only two words:
CODEMAKER//CODEBREAKER
Below that was a drawing of connecting lines without any obvious patterns.
“Codebreaker,” I said. “Leid said something about that as she expired.”
Adrial studied the note. “Any idea what that might mean?”
Qaira glanced away, his brows furrowing in thought. “When Oraniquitis was inside of me, I saw things differently.”
“Define differently.”
“Better. There were waves and… code. In spaces between what we normally see.”
Adrial and I exchanged looks.
“Code in what form?” I asked.
“I don’t know if it was actual code, but seeing Oraniquitis’s note made me remember. If there was script, it was too small to see and I wasn’t exactly in the position to read it.” He gestured to the note. Adrial handed it to him. Qaira read it over, again and again. He pointed to the drawing. “Could this be a map?”
“A constellation map,” I agreed, turning to Adrial. “Let’s query it in attica and see if there’s a match.”
“That’ll take a minute,” said Adrial, nodding nonetheless. “There are quite a few star arrangements in our thirteen known universes.”
I grinned. “Well, we definitely have the time.”
“Touché.”
“I don’t,” muttered Qaira, returning the note to Adrial. “Gotta pack.”
“Don’t take anything from Enigmus,” Adrial called to his back.
“Got it. See you in five-fucking-years.”
***
Qaira Eltruan—;
Five fucking years.
I understood that everyone around here looked at time on a cosmological scale, but I hadn’t been Vel’Haru long enough to have forgotten how heavy five years was to a puny mortal.
Adrial thought it was wise to ship me wherever he could to take my mind off things. What he didn’t realize was that although a contract kept me busy, it was far lonelier; loneliness was a trigger.
But I was part of something (cosmologically) bigger, and to be fair this was probably the best gig that I’d ever had. I would pull my weight as best as I could.
Yahweh followed me into RQ4. I opened the satchel stashed beneath my desk and filled it with all of the pages of research I’d been working on.
I spent the majority of my free time combing through attica and absorbing all of the truths to the multiverse that my lesser mind could not have possibly understood. In Purgatory I had wondered about the constant that kept us fluid across universes, but only now could I grasp how ignorant such an assumption was.
It was more than just one constant. Particle and quantum
physics from even the most advanced civilizations didn’t breach the surface of the true properties of their respective universes. And they could never know, because each universe was a different lens of designated normal vs dark particles.
The multiverse was actually a megaverse, but only certain matter could be seen and manipulated in certain universes. It didn’t mean the dark particles weren’t there, but…hidden.
I wasn’t allowed to bring anything designed for attica, so my research would have to continue with writing utensils and paper. I didn’t have to worry about anyone finding my research and translating its Exo’daian script, but having an actual piece of technology from Exo’daius was a definite no.
Our resonance was linked with attica innately, although we were only able to query present information streams. There were no updates until we returned to Enigmus.
I sealed the satchel and paused, watching Yahweh monitor Leid’s vitals on the panel above her tank. She had shown increased brainwave activity over the last several days. Yahweh had said that she was dreaming. Hopefully her dreams were better than mine.
“Nothing’s changed,” I said.
Yahweh sighed lightly. “Want me to walk you to the portal?”
I half-grinned. “Sure.”
We reached the threshold of the rippling, electric curtain and suddenly, alarms. It was coming from the panel.
We turned, sharing a look of building shock. I dropped the satchel and Yahweh raced back to Leid’s glass tomb.
“Oh dear,” he whispered, swiping through her biometric screens.
“What is it?”
“She’s…” He looked down at Leid, and then froze.
I pushed past him, seeing for myself.
Leid’s eyes were open. She was looking at me.
The sound of my heart pounded in my ears. I held her gaze; unable to look away, unable to move. She lay still, staring up at me with halcyon eyes. Her eyes.
“Her eyes,” I breathed, the thought exploding from its cognitive restraints. They were no longer violet, but silver.
The Antithesis- The Complete Pentalogy Page 106