Loud footsteps roused me from the arms of sleep and an urgent knocking forced me to sit up on the bed. Just when I was so tired, not a single dream came to me. I looked around quickly and tried to gather my thoughts before answering. I can't remember what day it is or what's in store for me, but it's definitely too early to be getting out of bed. I don't get up until the sun is safely in the sky and the people below are frantically running around busying themselves with other people's orders. And yet, the bedroom is not completely dark. The heavy curtains I closed still keep any light from coming in, only a single thin strip emerges from under the door. We were supposed to be alone here, but as usual it doesn't matter in the slightest to the others. My title and everything else guarantees me -among other things- a complete loss of privacy. Steven is lying next to me, footsteps and knocking having no effect on his deep sleep. Typical.
I stood on the cold wood and took a few quick steps to the door, thanking myself for getting dressed before we fell asleep. I slipped through the door into the lighted room and quietly closed it behind me. With any luck I won't wake him up and I won't have to explain anything. The barrage of his questions, even if justified, is terribly exhausting, especially in the morning.
In contrast to the bedroom, the living room is bathed in bright light. I stand face to face to a despondent young man with blue eyes and curly curls. Something has happened and it's not good. He was already taking a breath, so I quickly stopped him with my hand. "Get to the important part."
"Narral has closed the borders and is gathering troops there," he said in a calm voice that didn't match the darkened expression at all. Riley prepared him well, but not well enough. He is not used to delivering such messages, he’s used to repeating orders. He handed me a report sealed with green wax with a crane embossed on it.
I woke up in my bed again. This time it wasn't footsteps that woke me up, but a throbbing pain in my temples. This pain has been haunting me all day, but only now it started to bother me. I need a good night's sleep at least once every few days and this is not helping me at all. I sat down with my face buried in my hands. I just can't understand what I just dreamed about. And I'm thinking it wasn't just a dream. Why would Narral close the borders? Nothing has changed. I had to force myself to think through the pain, lifted my head and checked the damn curtains, luckily they are still closed. I must have a few more hours of undisturbed rolling in bed, next to him. I brushed my hair from my face and took a slow breath. I have no idea what time it is, I can't see the clock in the dark, let alone the numbers.
Maybe it was just a bad dream. Maybe I'm freaking out for no reason. None of this can happen. It doesn't make the slightest sense.
Steven sat up next to me. He took a breath to say something or ask a question, but before he could his gaze -like mine- turned to the door. Someone turned on the light in the next room. I jumped out of bed, knowing exactly what’s going to happen. It wasn't a dream. "Get dressed."
Without thinking about it, I slipped through the door into the living room, scaring the blue-eyed Curlicue approaching me. I snatched the letter from his hand and while he’s trying to stammer something I opened it. In the flood of words, I was only interested in those confirming the closing of the border.
"Where’s Riley?" I asked after he stopped stuttering.
"We couldn't find him anywhere… they sent me... now, as soon,"
"As soon as it came, I understand." I finished for him. I almost put the letter down when I noticed the watermark on the paper. A large J in the foreground of several forked leaves. I raised the letter in front of my face, almost burying my nose in the paper, just to get a good look at the page, it can't be mistaken for anything. Ryhel - a foul-smelling plant with a sour, burning taste. A sign of an even more foul family. I feel sick. And it's getting worse, the weight of this realisation is crushing me from the inside. It tears me to pieces, all because of a single letter with a leaf. I know this sign very well and it never bodes well. But what is it doing on the Narral official document? The seal with the crane doesn’t lie. "Get me the Council, Generals led by Remis and Hamilton. Now."
The young man in front of me nodded in speechless amazement. It’s not a dream, just a very bad reality. There is no question why a nation that openly rejects magic closes its borders with a state that literally lives on magic. After all, they do that quite often. The question is why are they gathering an army? They weren't attacking the surrounding states simply because they didn't have enough resources to win, so it can be assumed that this is what changed. “Give that information to the king.” I left the letter behind and got to the library before Steven came out of the bedroom. I don't feel like discussing any of this with him, and I have a strong feeling he won't try to waste his time either. I'm not looking for answers this time, that stupid letter told me everything. I want to know I'm wrong, I must be.
That circle on the ground draws me in. Like never before. Greedily demanding all my attention, shelves, books, stained glass receded into the background, disappeared. All that was left was a bright blue circle with runes in a flood of black darkness. “I told you to draw it. The whole circle, with all the runes, one by one. Do you remember?” my grandfather's velvety voice sounds like a caress to the soul, I thought of his face. Not the stiff, terrifyingly serious one carved in stone on every statue, in every temple, city, and palace. But his real face with a kind smile and dark eyes that accentuate the sharp features.
I don't know what I remember. I was little and didn't exactly try to remember what was happening. The whole scene came alive before me again. Bright orange flames licked through thousands of paper pages, burning their way through thick shelves that slowly fell to the ground one by one. Where a new feast awaited the flames, the wooden floor disappeared before my eyes as the flames gnawed away at more pieces of darkening wood. And then they stopped, at an invisible barrier that wouldn't let them go in.
A little girl was kneeling on the floor in the middle of it all. Her brown hair fell over her shoulder almost to her waist, I couldn't see her face but I knew she wasn't afraid. I clearly remember I wasn’t afraid back then. Maybe because of that voice, maybe because I just knew I was safe. Neither the fire nor the smoke came near the little girl, nor the snow-white overall she was wearing. With her little finger, she obediently drew the runes the pleasant voice patiently dictated to her.
"Listen." he whispered. I’m already doing that. I listen and I'm looking around. But only when I started to pay attention did I hear another voice, I had to try to ignore everything else - grandfather, the roar of the fire, the collapsing shelves - but something more was there. Masculine, urgent and uncomfortably cold, yet as familiar as grandfather's voice. It stands out from the hot surroundings. It keeps repeating something over and over 'In vetta fir' he speaks in an old language. He encourages the fire in its gluttony. It was because of him the fire continued to spread. Because of him, it didn't start anywhere and couldn't be stopped. I turned to follow the voice. A tall man stands behind a row of bookshelves, part of his face obscured by books, I see blond hair billowing in the chaos he has unleashed and his piercing grey eyes. For a brief moment, another figure flashed behind him, a slightly smaller blonde, a perfect copy of him in every way.
Immediately after the image disappeared. I look at the new shelves filled with new books. I gasped, the entire library began to move, it began to spin with me. One of the shelves behind me saved me from falling. I gripped the wood tightly, digging my nails into the hard material. Paralysed by fear, I tried to breathe. This is the answer Daniel was talking about. Twins. I wasn't mistaken. I just didn't want to admit it.
It was them. Immortal spectres haunting my family. A painful reminder of my family's failures over the centuries. "...why?" I whispered. I'm not sure if there is anyone who can answer my questions and I'm not sure if I really want to know the answers, but I feel like I'm not alone, not completely. It should have occurred to me a long time ago that they are behind everything. I thought about it, I just didn't want to admit it. It was the two in Narral and Casscairn, the formula on the paper, the magic drawing, the blond Steven glimpsed. It had to be them. Two bastards who only became immortal out of pity so they could rob others of their power for the rest of eternity. Because they themselves are like leaky vessels in which the magic does not hold long enough, slowly leaving them and disappearing in an endless loop. Filled only with unquenchable rage and raw brutality.
I would prefer to see to the end of their worthless existence myself, but I cannot stand up to them. For a mages without magic, they can handle it surprisingly well. Every time I had one of them, the other appeared. At the worst possible moment. They can fight very well. And they are even better at hiding. If they don't want it, it’s impossible to find them. They evaporate without a trace for years, and when they show up, it’s too late for everything else. It's too late now. I slowly realise the horrible truth, tears running down my face. Those two figures hiding behind the shelves scare me to death. They tried to kill me back then, as a defenceless child, they destroyed my first home, they destroyed my father's world. I released my grip, stiff fingers reluctantly let go of the shelf. I slid to the ground. I well remember their cruelty, there was something inhuman and disgusting about them, beyond all chipped and broken.
Only their torture could equal the length of immortality itself. I was paralyzed by the weight of memories. Everything came back. I'm terribly cold, gasping for breath, choking on my own blood. Thick, warm liquid fills my mouth, my hands full of it, but I can't breathe through it. I can't get rid of it. It is everywhere and nowhere. It’s coming from nowhere and disappears again into the void. Over and over.
"Breathe," a velvety voice tells me. His advice is genius, it pisses me off. It's seriously worth it. If I could breathe, I would’ve done it a long time ago. I want to protest, to tell the voice what I think of his advice, but I couldn't. All I can do is choke on the onslaught of my own memories of the worst period of my life. "You're safe here, you're safe here," the voice whispered. I'd like to believe him, I'm trying so hard to believe those words. But this whole place burned to the ground once before. He let it burn to dust. So what guarantee do I have?
I keep coming back to the unfurnished room, bound by chains that cut ever deeper into my flesh. At first I thought it was because of the way I moved, but gradually I learned to stand still for hours and still not escape them. They continued to cut their way through skin and flesh. Until I came to terms with the pain and a new, scarier one arrived.
I sit up, it feels like the slowest, hardest movement I've ever decided to make. I have to focus on breathing. My hands are shaking, my head and everything around me is still spinning. I breathed in slowly, very carefully. Just to remember the next part of their torture. The disgustingly metallic, repulsively warm liquid filled the mouth again. It tried to get out in thick streams, I wanted to cough it out, get rid of it, but a new one kept coming from somewhere, until I almost passed out, only in those moments I could breathe. Just for a few small moments, but this time I couldn't do it. No deliverance in the form of oxygen comes. I have to pass out at any moment. It seems inevitable. The only thing keeping me awake right now is the fear that if that happens and I pass out, I won't wake up here. I will be back in Narral. Maybe I still am.
I thought this was over. That it's all over, but it's just another lie I forced myself to believe. It was then much easier to ignore the terrifying reality and its consequences. I was consumed by it.
I closed my eyes, I'm too exhausted, I can't keep my lids up. Opening my eyes is too distant a goal. Outright unattainable. And I've had enough of trying to continue this madness. I'm ready to let the darkness win. It doesn't matter, I don't have the strength to go through that terrifying experience again. Trying to prove that their plan won't work. Waiting for rescue that will not come. I have had enough of this. I want to let the darkness surround me, swallow me and lose me. This is the end, I can't stand against them, alone. With that decision, I surrendered to everything that could come.
Unfortunately for me, nothing happened at all. I found no darkness, only a familiar warmth emanating from a golden orb that simply appeared. It won't leave me alone. It annoyingly adds light where I want darkness. It won't let me give up. It acts like it can command me, a small, annoyingly glowing orb that doesn't understand anything at all. It hasn't experienced anything I've been through. "Get lost!" I grunted angrily. I finally got some air in my lungs. It's such a liberating feeling. Inhale and exhale. Suddenly it felt simple and completely natural.
"Hold out your hand," I held out my hand. There's no point in protesting anyway. No matter how independent I feel, I always end up as a piece on someone else's chessboard. That's the title I inherited. “look at it.” I didn't understand why I should be looking at my own hand until I saw a bright light. The exact same thing that didn't allow me to get lost in my own memories. “Darkness cannot consume you, you are the Light.” Light? I am no Light. It was his ability with which he built everything around here, but I have nothing to do with it. Like his sons, I have what is left of it. A fraction of his power. Even his daughter didn't have that ability, so why should his granddaughter have it? Some abilities cannot be inherited, right? And yet the ball in my hand pulses with the same intensity, with the same urgency. An orb I've never seen before and yet seems so familiar. I know it from stories, I just didn't think I'd ever seen it, let alone held it in my own hand. "You have to understand how important you are. You have to fix my mistake, finish what I couldn't finish." the voice whispered again. "Setting everything right, for our family. For the Heirs."
Putting everything in order is easy to say. I'll just sort everything out. Everything that he could not do... I looked at the ball for a long time, stared, until I let it disappear. Without his help. I let it appear and disappear again. And then I tried again. It fills me with hope. Every time it lits up, a little more. I sat on the floor for the next few minutes thinking about what had just happened. What the fuck does that mean? The Twins are behind everything, it's not good news. It's the worst, it destroys all my plans, it puts me back to the beginning. The two of them alone could destroy my home, what can they do with an entire army? The pain in the temples came again. It stabs me piercingly and is accompanied by images that appeared as an answer to an unspoken question.
An image of two red folders next to each other appeared first. Completely identical, they are lying on the table in front of me, waiting for me to pick one of them up. Then an image appeared of a city I don't recognize. I'm standing just behind the wooden ramparts, burning houses and corpses on the side of the street indicating I'm too late, unable to help my own people, but still I continued on until I ran into the bloodthirsty undead.
One picture followed another, it could not be stopped. Small, white and blue flowers slowly descend from the high ceiling, where they appeared seemingly from nowhere. I turned to the huge blue wall on the other side, it has an ominous effect compared to the flowers. I approached the wall, a small, almost invisible, thin crack opened right in front of me.
Next came the bravely balanced ranks of soldiers, breaking through the hordes of tireless beasts, my soldiers on the eastern border. And the ruined Oakfort, an old city, razed to the ground.
And at the very end, green eyes appeared, slowly fading in my arms as the life left his body. I didn't see the injury or try to stop it, I just watched it happen. I gasped again. Another wave of tears and sobs took my breath away. That’s the future that scared Edgar so much, it must be, no wonder he's ready to go against it. He wants me to save his son, to snatch him from the arms of death itself. How the fuck am I supposed to do something like this? A whole series of rules forbade me to do it, and the other made it downright impossible.
"You have to help me..." I whispered several times. My heart is almost jumping out of my chest, my head is pounding and I guess I'm going to throw up at any moment as I wait in vain for an answer. "You have to help me!" I raised my voice and stood up vigorously. I know I'm not alone. I feel it. I feel his presence. “Tell me how! HOW?!” I furiously grabbed the nearest book and threw it with all my might to the opposite shelf. The book bounced off the shelf and landed harmlessly on the ground.
As if the sound of the book falling scared him or offended him. He disappeared, leaving me all alone. I wanted to curl up on the floor and cry. My own body wouldn't let me -as usual, in these situations- a small, annoying part of me can't give up. It's the part that must have all the answers, and once the stupidest plan comes along, can't let go. It keeps me going. It makes me want to straighten up and keep going. And as usual, that part is right.
I wiped the tears mixed with blood from my nose. His power, my power seeps into every cell and subjugates it with an uncomfortable tension. I want to go back to the bedroom and rest and think it all over, but I can't face those green eyes, not now. The Twins are able to destroy everything I am, tear my personality into meaningless pieces, crush my soul -if Immortals have such a thing. I can't even begin to think about all that is at stake for him. In case they get close enough. And it’s exactly the impulse I needed. I have to stop them before they make a decision that endangers him.
The small hall is crowded with sleepy people, the previous mysterious atmosphere is gone. The stark white light turned the room into a much scarier, colder place. The people inside were shouting over each other, but fell silent as I entered. I figured it was because of how awful I must look, sleep deprived and dishevelled, shirt unkempt and generally out of sorts, but none of them can complain about that anyway. I quickly looked at everyone, the Council members standing on one side. All seven members are present, the three generals and their representatives are chatting among themselves in the other group, along with Hamilton. A few servants run between them along with Riley, at least they found him. The last thing I need is the lost secretary on top of all this. Steven is not here. He's either gone back to bed or home, which is more likely. I took a breath and moved to the map. I need to focus on this with every cell in my body. I'm running out of room for more mistakes.
This time, a large part of the eastern border lights up in dark red. Common sense tells me I should beef up patrols at that ominous line. Experience said otherwise, with the Twins at the helm, ordinary tactics probably won't work. I can forget about logic as well. The first thing I will have to do is find out how far beyond the red line they are able to get and with how many soldiers - that is, if their little creatures are part of the army. I stopped in front of the map with folded hands, I don't feel like explaining this mess.
Remis took the floor, summed up the situation in a few short sentences, and immediately moved on to converting everything into numbers. That's his favourite part, he can convert our odds into numbers in seconds, which I admire and hate, maths always sums it up too coldly. We have several thousand men at our disposal who could go out at once, supplies would be brought to them at once. Of course, his first suggestion was to strengthen the borders and immediately close the nearest portals. At least I partially agree with the latter.
The following passionate debate between the members of the Council silenced the General for some time. “Close the portals? Aren't you crazy? Not only will people not get anywhere, but our portal income will drop!” Baron Iamis was the loudest.
"You mean your income will drop," Bearon countered. He glanced at the map and turned back to Galleren, waiting for his approval. I always wondered what would happen if one of them wasn't here, the other would be completely lost.
“I think portal revenue is not the main issue now. An enemy army is forming on the border.” General Darien, who has the Eastern Army under his command, interjected. Not long ago, he replaced the old general and I'm still not sure if Darien is the right choice.
I turned to the map, I watched Remis out of the corner of my eye, I've known him for quite some time and I know he won't just give up, but he doesn't have a habit of arguing with others. He prefers to wait for an opportune moment when he can interrupt the dispute and present his own plan. And so like him, without a single word, I listened to the arguments of others for and against closing the portals, the effects of that decision on people and the economy. And it was clear to me that no matter what I decided, I would piss off at least half of those present.
"I don't need to remind anyone, our economy depends partly on portals! People need to travel, a large number of experts we'll need do not stay in cities, and we cannot close ourselves off from our neighbours! We have obligations.” fought Iamis for his truth. His gaze rested on me, I'm not ready to speak, I just shrugged. I don't even know if I can speak. What should I tell him? The economy is the last problem we have. I looked down at my hand. With disgust, I examined the golden liquid in the glass someone handed me and drank.
This is either very bad or even worse. I'm supposed to correct his mistakes... How exactly am I supposed to settle the accounts of a man who built everything around? A man who just by the way started his own faith and left us in his own world. With his rules. Which would be very nice, except that I refuse to follow his rules.
"Our economy is also based on people," interjected Iohanna, rather unusually not wearing a pink dress, but a dark one. She never wears anything dark and suddenly has an almost black dress? And she is the only one who is perfectly groomed. As if she had them ready for this occasion. "to whom we promised safety. So we have to ensure it.” that doesn't sound like her words, since when did she care about people? She always does everything for herself.
“That's easy to say, but what are we really up against?” Terrick turned to me with a raised eyebrow. Everyone else fell silent.
"That's an interesting question, isn't it?" I answered him with a question and took another sip, I do it purely out of habit. I'm not in the mood to drink this early in the morning, and certainly not whiskey. Everyone stares at me in surprise. I can't explain it to them anyway, so why bother. “We’ll be the first to send a letter to Narral along with the diplomats, as part of maintaining good relations and so on we demand the opening of the border or at least part of it to preserve trade routes and withdraw their armed forces from around our border immediately or we will be forced to intervene. Close Alryne and all the portals that lead directly there, no one will even come near that city and Peter should go back there.''
"I'll see to it that no one new gets into the city." he agreed with my order surprisingly quickly. I expected some protests or a biting remark. He leans exhausted to one of the chairs, he probably doesn't like waking up this morning any more than I do.
“The same goes for the capitol, close the city and naturally the Palace. For the other portals, strengthen the controls, everyone needs a good reason to get anywhere.” I paused and waited for disapproving protests, but no one objected. That's a nice change I shouldn't get used to. “Restrict access to the Academies as far as Oakfort is concerned, strengthen the city's security, and get Niochalsen to me. Every larger unit must have a mage with them and this applies immediately. Inform the commanders.” the three generals to my left nodded in agreement, as did their deputies. "Close the Lion's Tail too, every soldier who has nothing to do will move there. Form the troops and have them ready. The eastern army will move to the eastern border led by Darien, you know the strategic points.” I seriously expect at least one of them to protest, but they all remain silent. The attack on Tayonne and Lukas's death caused a wave of panic not only among the people but also among the soldiers. It was a safe place in the middle of a protected land, though not ours. And the Guardsmen are supposed to be the best of all. Undead adversaries spread fear wherever they go. What is it about their mortality, what keeps them here? Who? "I see you all agree, which isn't the least bit weird..." I shook my head in disbelief, staring at the map, giving them another chance to speak. It didn't happen. “Follow protocol. And the Council will reassure people we have everything under control.”
“Do we have everything under control?” Gallien stands directly across from me, his blue Athran shirt is out of place in a room full of long, loose tunics, colourful dresses, high-collared suits, and dark, gold-trimmed uniforms. With his arms folded across his chest, he looks at me with blue eyes, the fans of wrinkles around him somehow seem more pronounced.
"We always have everything under control." I smiled. It's a common fact, Zessia never loses. And right now I need to stick to that propaganda like never before. I can't lose. Although there is a first time for everything.
Scattered duvets and clothes on the bed in the bedroom are all I found there when I returned. I was relieved to see the empty room. I have no idea how to explain to Steven what's going on and why I'd rather just hide him somewhere and figure it out myself. Of course, he will insist that I can't do it without his help. I felt like explaining everything to him and slowly introducing him to the secrets of my family. Even he can't handle some secrets. I should be able to tell him he's out of luck and he'll follow what I say. Just like the others, but giving orders to him of all people is extremely difficult. Almost impossible as he looks at me with those green eyes.
I opened the heavy, black curtains, and the whole room was filled with bright light. This time I'm not happy about the rays. Crumpled pieces of fabric are lying everywhere on the floor, I added another pile to them, dressed again to the nearest pair of pants and shirt and without looking in the mirror, I walked out of the bedroom. I'll have to tell someone to clean it up or I'll have to do it myself later. I was amused by the idea, I hadn't cleaned in years, not like a normal person, I mostly just let the excess clothes disappear and never cared much about where they ended up. As always, the new one was waiting for me in the closet, so why bother with it.
The living room is full of white smoke, or so it seems to me, even though the large balcony windows are wide open and fresh air is flowing in. Jonathan must have been sitting on the couch for a while now. He deliberately covers everything around him in a smoke screen. "Don't you have anyone better to annoy this early in the morning?"
"Anyone better than my daughter?" he put down his cigar and turned to me. There are dark circles under the brown eyes. At least I'm not the only one who hasn't gotten much sleep these past few days. "I wanted to see you."
"No, you didn't..." I handed him a glass of his favourite whiskey and looked at him closely, but I didn't sit down next to him. He annoys me terribly with his secrets. He should be honest with me of all people, but he isn't. He looks worried, the last time I saw him he was in colourful clothes and in a good mood, today he went back to his white wardrobe and frowning expression. I know very well why he looks like that. And I guess he's here to finally tell me. "If you’d wanted to see me, you would have invited me to your place. You wouldn't go here. So you want to talk about something and it can't wait.”
"You keep trying to deduce what's going to happen, like a little detective." he shook his head amused, drinking. Jonathan is the only reason I have Tre'Ascan alcohol here, I avoid the orange flavoured whiskey myself. As well as other things from that country.
I feel like telling him, I don't have to deduce anything, the answers will come to me before I even ask. But I also want to wait until he starts with why he came, he never knows how to start. I watched as he put the glass down next to the letter I had opened that night. How many hours did I spend in the library and with the Council? Two, three? He silently raised his gaze back to me. He should start talking, but he doesn't look like he's about to. I know my father well, he could sit here all day just staring at me, purely because he doesn't like to change anything.
“Would you tell me the Twins are behind all this? If I didn't figure it out, how long would you put it off? Until they knock on my door? Would you tell me again that it's nothing. I'm just seeing things. Looking for a fight?" I started in a calm voice, I like to think I can hide my emotions well, but not better than Jonathan, then again I'm not that old. I want to scream inside. I am so angry with him. He always acts so condescending. He claims he's doing everything in my best interest, but he's doing it for himself. Why didn't he warn me long ago? Like then, he should have warned me or at least trusted me. "You promised to warn me."
"I didn't promise you anything like that, you didn't need to know, it would just worry you." he tries to calm me down.
“What exactly would concern me? The knowledge that my worst nightmare has returned, that what I've been afraid of all this time is happening again? Or the knowledge that those two were really trying to kill me from the start, that it was the two of them in the library back then?” I retorted, Jonathan bit his lip. I shook my head, thoughts popping up from every corner of my mind, what else is he hiding from me? What do I believe because my own father told me and I had no need to question it? I wanted to get rid of those thoughts, but I can't, they all lead to green eyes. "You know, I'd rather not know why my own family is trying to kill me. We are all crazy! And I don't even want to know exactly what happened in the library because the place makes me sick. But how can you let me go through the same thing? You owe me at least that! You couldn't stop them back there, you know what's going to happen!" those pesky tears came again, I can't help it. "Why didn't you warn Edgar? Or Steven… you know he's going to die…” my voice breaks, I can't believe I said it out loud, Jonathan just keeps quiet. I’m not sure if he’s thinking or if he just ran out of arguments. Does he realise how much he's hurting me? Every decision he makes leads to an even worse end for me. "Dad?"
“I wasn't sure, not right away. It only dawned on me when Damien brought the drawing, mother wrote the formulas almost exactly the same, it was a solid proof. I spoke with Stephan, we agreed we would first find out what they are after. I won't let it touch you again. There is no way,” he paused.
"A bit late for that, don't you think?"
"Andrea, I would ask you to stay out of this, but I know your temper. You don't give me much of a choice. You're too stubborn for a reason I don't understand." he paused, ran a hand through his hair and frowned. "I know Damien thinks it's his job to protect you, but he's not your father. I am. And I'll do anything to keep you safe. With or without your consent, simply because I don't need it. Do you understand me?"
“You sound like Edgar.” I sighed. “You have to tell him the truth.”
"You know I can't, we agreed on that. No one will know about it.” because everything we agree on is always correct and valid. "Besides, he believes the vision too much."
“More than his best friend?” he nodded.
"Have you seen him lately? I can't stand him like this. I think Edgar misunderstood and yet, he refuses to admit he made a mistake." Jonathan drank again. “The vision is strange to say the least. It started with that attack, it brought you together, you're both equally insane, unstoppable no matter what comes your way, let it magic or anything else. Then Steven got the crown that gave him his own power. The soldiers on the border will soon be replaced by the undead, it's all gradually coming true until…” he refilled his glass and drank, I know exactly what he's getting at. A vision of my own arose before my eyes. The life in the green eyes went out and I didn't stop it. I just watched helplessly as he died.
"He got it right, he’s fixated on the fact I could save his son, that I would somehow change the whole thing. It's just that I don't know how, not that the future is somehow given, but I don't really have that much to go on. I can't even protect myself from them." I sat down next to Jonathan, he looked at me sadly.
"Can't you? You were able to stand up to them on your own." I can clearly hear the pain in his voice. "And I promise you're not alone now."
"Yeah, but neither of us can afford to repeat what happened last time. None of that." I ran my hand through my hair and tried not to think about everything that happened some three hundred years ago. Jon is tellingly silent. We both quickly ran out of topics to talk about. I don't want to discuss with him what happened in the library, or the fact that just a few steps away lies his father's diary, which Jonathan has been searching for for decades. I don't even want to tell him I have the same ability his father did. I want him to tell me what to do. That's his job, right? So, at least once he could come up with useful advice.
“He should be one of us…” he trailed off when he saw my angry look.
"The what!?" I glared at him. "I want to get him as far away from it as possible, not pull him right into the middle." I stood up and threw up my hands. He pissed me off again just as I calmed down.
“He's Steeles, he's part of it one way or another. His lineage was crafted as carefully as our own. You can't... nothing can protect him better,”
"NO!" I cut him off again. "I won't do anything like that again. I'm not going to ask him and neither are you. Any of you.” how could I even talk to him about something like that. Ask him to stay stuck in time. For the rest of eternity, he’d watched everyone around him live their own lives and grow old alongside their loved ones, unable to join them. Instead, he could bathe in the blood and other fluids of whatever comes out of the dark recesses of our world. He would still be fighting and trying to save a world that isn't worth it. And the icing on the cake are, of course, the Twins. They won't be interested in a mage, not even one of the Steeles, they never were. But a new Immortal, that's something else. Someone I would really commit to, our whole family. And the weakest link in the protection of our Legacy. That would draw a huge target on his back -no it would just make the target bigger. The twins know about everything, this is another of their specialties, they just haven't been interested in him yet. So why would I want to change something like that?
“You get upset because I don't tell you everything. Because I'm so protective of you, but you're just the same. You should at least give him a choice.” I don't like Jonathan's logic. He's right, I should give him a choice, that's one of the rules, but what if he chooses to join me? I will worry about him for the rest of eternity and live in terror that one day it will be too much for him and he will leave. He will regret that decision. And he's going to hate me for it. Or become a toy in the hands of blonde monsters. I painfully bit my tongue to stop my own thoughts.
"I'm not like you." I said finally. I wish he would go away already. Let me think about it. Gave me a moment to think about everything that’s happening. I didn't have time to stop yet. "It can't be done, we don't have enough time to teach him all the useful shit."
"Just talk to him, if you care at all about him, give him a choice. Or we'll do it,” he continued. "even you can't deny him his right. Steven is…”
“Steven is not your problem. Your family is.” I grumbled in exasperation, having to close my eyes for a moment, the headache getting worse by the minute. I picked up the letter from the table, folded it, and dropped it into Jonathan's lap. “Don't take it too personally dad, but get out. I need to think it all over.” he took the paper in his hand and stood up. I waited in silence to see if he would add anything else, but he quite obediently kissed my forehead and disappeared.
I laid down on the sofa and with my hands behind my head frowned at the perfectly white ceiling, there’s not a single flaw, crack, speck of dust, just nothing. And that makes me really angry. Everything around me has to be perfect, perfect and mostly white. I feel like throwing something on that damn perfect ceiling, paint, a bottle of alcohol, one of my daggers, anything.
For once I have a lot of new information, but what good is it? Daniel wanted to change some rules while overstepping his authority, my grandfather decided it was best if I saw glimpses of the future without telling me what to do about it, and my father solved the biggest problem in seconds. And on top of that, a war has been waged against me, waged by my psychopathic relatives. Well… not really relatives, but what does that matter? Plus there's that horrible headache. In other words, the day is getting better and better and it's not even noon yet.
"You look like shit," I sat up, completely losing track of time. Emmett is smiling casually as usual. He just rolls up the sleeves of his white shirt and shows off his tattoo. I dismissed the question of why he has a formal shirt. Like I care about what he was doing before he came.
"Says the guy with the bruise." I laughed and jumped up to hug him. Just looking at him always puts me in a better mood.
"You should see the other one." he squeezed me tightly, still smelling like a rose. I miss his fruity perfume.
"Yes, indeed. He doesn't even have a scratch on his entire body and believe me I looked." I provoked him. Emmett rolled his eyes and sat down. I followed his example, looking at his bruise, the dark colour disappeared, turning into a repulsive green. “Can you explain to me why you've been walking around with this on your face for the last week? It's not like you're supposed to represent your family or anything…”
He just shrugged. Emmett's problem is that healing magic doesn't work for him like it does for others. Most people feel immediate relief, the injury goes away and they move on with their lives. He mostly screams in pain during the entire healing process. With small injuries it doesn't matter so much, with big ones I'm afraid the shock or something like that will kill him.
I lightly placed my cold fingers on his face, the heat radiated directly from it. He quietly protested, I ignored him. I need to concentrate, the faster I do it the less it will hurt him and he damn well knows it. “I think I get why you held back, but I'd expect you to stop him or move aside, you know.”
“No… I don't know. I thought going against him was a capital offence or something and not letting him win is a treachery.”
“Em,”
“Don't, it's… really not why I'm here.” the last time he protested, I pinched his thigh with my free hand to keep him quiet. I pressed against the injured spot and let the memory of their childish fight disappear with a warm pulse of magic. Emmett winced and cursed. "It really wasn't worth the pain."
"It really was. It suits you better this way.” I smiled, I always liked his hazel eyes, I really like looking into them, back then and even now. I find them so incredibly honest.
"Me? I always look good!" he pointed a thumb at himself and laughed. Emmett already has enough scars, mostly reminders of his bad decisions. He doesn't need to add more bruises to it. "But that can't be said about you. Too many bad dreams?'
"No, it was already too mundane for me." I stopped, he waited patiently. "Now I am awakened by visions of what will happen."
“Is this supposed to be a joke?” he laughed nervously, biting his lip and straightening up. "It's a joke, isn't it."
"I'm dying with laughter." I replied dryly. "This is what happens to you when you're Hallies direct descendant," I added angrily. This is what happens when your ancestor is a total egomaniac who thinks he can control everything even after he dies. And just to be sure, he also thinks I need to know what can happen.
"Fuck me. How? Why?” he jumped up from the sofa, raising his index finger. "You know what I'm going to say, what I'm going to do?"
"You'll act like an ox, but I don't need any special powers to do that."
"Does Jonathan know about this?" I shook my head. “Steven?” I shook my head again. "But you can now see how they'll react before you tell them."
"I don't think so…"
"Can I bet?" he suggested enthusiastically.
"What?"
“There's a big offshore race coming up and there's always some action in the casino. We can bet on anything, that's the point.” the brilliant idea completely absorbed him for a little while. I can see how he thinks about it. He was smiling at the same time. Until he frowned. "You can show Dad he's wrong with that crap he keeps talking about."
"I don't think so." I said when he finally let me speak. I took a careful breath, I don't know how to properly explain to him what is happening. My throat tightened.
Emmett looked me over, his smile replaced by concern. “I hate this look of yours, how bad is it?” he sat back and took my small hand in his big paw.
“It's bad enough… Two disturbed psychopaths are behind it, who know more about us than I'd like. And I have no idea how to deal with them.” maybe I should tell Emmett the whole truth about the Twins, but I think he'll be safer not knowing. After all, they never cared about him. "I want to get Steven out of this, close the borders, get rid of him for time."
"Why would you do that? Are you bored of him already?” he chuckled, the colour draining from his face as he figured it out, he gasped. Neither of us said it out loud, but we both think the same thing.
"You can leave with him, you know? Take him on a little trip."
"And where would we go? Do you know how stubborn he is? Domineering?" I know exactly, Steven likes to stick with me being the stubborn one, but to me it’s the other way around. He's the one who uncompromisingly sticks to whatever he puts his mind to. "I think it's all bullshit. You're tired, I don't care what you think you saw. It won't happen!'
"Em,"
"Zip it! Lie down." before I could object, he put my head on his lap and covered me with a light blanket. “Have you considered the possibility that you're just hallucinating? That's what lack of sleep does. It just sucks. That will be the problem. I'm not talking to you until you get some sleep.”
"Thanks Em.” I whispered and closed my eyes. I don't know how he does it, but when he's close to me, falling asleep is much easier and I don't seem to have bad dreams, or at least not as bad.
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