The long hall, bathing in daylight streaming in from a toned arched window directly in front of us, is one of the examples of everything my ancestor was capable of achieving. Utter glory and perfection. Only drawback is it never gets dark here, which is annoyingly impractical, especially in long meetings. One so quickly loses track of time.
The white stone walls bear a striking resemblance to those in the Palace, but these shine with purity and at first glance prove the inviolability of this place. Decorated pillars support the vaulted ceiling with carved tiny ornaments. The tiles under our feet merge with the walls, and only a grey strip of carpet shows us the way to the stone slab of a long table, slightly covered with a strip of blue cloth. The vase with red roses, as usual, is the only decoration on the table and at the same time a perfect reminder of times that never existed for me. My birth kind of ended them for good. My bad I guess.
"Get me Thalus," I said to the guards standing at the ready on the other side of the long hall, as I sat down on one of the chairs at the table. After a moment's hesitation, Steven followed my example. He looks around with great interest. Like there's something to actually look at. Apart from two large statues of my grandfather right at the entrance, there are not many decorations here. Unlike the Palace and other places that we have appropriated, there are fewer paintings, golden ornaments and similar nonsense.
"You've never been here?" I know for sure that he is not in the Senate for the first time, but I am not sure if he has ever been in the Meeting hall.
"Several times, but only as a kid, Dad thought it was… educational or something." he plays with the buttons on his vest. Maybe he's trying to button them up again? "It hasn't changed much here."
"It never changes much here, it's... eternal," I laughed at the idea of anything changing here. At the head of eternity, this is the only place where change is least threatened. For the last half millennium, I haven't even been able to get others to get rid of those roses on the table. "Did Edgar show you the vision he believes in so much?"
"No, but he keeps talking about it. All the time. Listen to me, Steven… I mean it… and I never listen, and he goes with Steven Atwell… he's so annoying. I get it. I'm pretty smart," he looked up sadly from his unbuttoned vest.
"Yeah, I see that, straight up genius," I stood up, the heavy, several metres high stone door slowly opening. A comically small figure appeared, approaching us as fast as his body allows, which isn't much despite how young he looks.
"It must be really important if it can't wait until a more pleasant hour, or at least until the sun rises," he said angrily. Still far enough away from us. And as usual, Thalus doesn't fit in, draped over his black shirt is a bright red tunic that reaches mid-thigh. His back-combed black hair falls to his shoulders. Blue eyes looked at me when he finally reached us, then they moved to Steven.
"Do you even know what a true sunrise looks like? How does it feel when the first rays of the sun caress your skin?" he hadn't pulled his ass out of here in years. I gave him a message from Will before he found another thing to complain about. Something like the heat is too strong outside or his favourite – one of you should always be here.
"If someone got there, we'd have known by now," he threw the paper on the table in annoyance, folded his arms and waited in silence. The subtle wrinkles around his eyes don't match his real age at all. He worked with my grandfather before all this was worthwhile. So he's older than most of the new world below us and he's getting more annoying with each passing year.
"If someone had got there with a little help of magic sure, not if they had physically walked in," I insisted. "don't pretend you don't know how it works."
"If someone walked there, then how would they get out? It's not like there's a map of the place. And even you need a guide or assistance." his gaze turned to Steven, who just shrugged. I bet his knowledge of A Dun'Amanh ends where most authors do. All he knows is that somewhere in our world there are doors, and that's about it.
"If I were you, I would hope there is no such map." peeple who know the little secret about where and how can be named very quickly. "I want to know who got there."
"Isn't that Daniel's responsibility? He's supposed to watch things like that, no me." he fumed.
"Do I look like it's my fucking problem?" I asked, almost in a whisper. "Listen to me, I don't know what orders you got, if it was my father or Stephan, but get your people in line before I do it for you. Inform the other Heirs and tell them to learn to count. Even corpses have two hands..." he turned around angrily. "Thanks, Thal," I added. The sullen old man in the young body turned and left the hall without saying a word.
"That was scary. You're scary, small but scary," Steven whispered, then burst out laughing. How much did he drink? "I don't think he'll listen to you, though. You've made him angry."
"He doesn't have much choice, he's not Hale. And while we're at it, not even an Heir," I waved my ring in Steven's face. Thalus isn't Immortal, and after all these years, he can't be considered a mage anymore. It gives him so much work to stay alive he can't do any other spell. Figures after so many years. He survived his own time and all that was left of it, and remained completely and perfectly alone. And for what? "You have no idea what this title can do. You should try it sometime."
He frowned in confusion before laughing again. "You always say everyone has a choice," he shook his head, as if he didn't believe my claim. I don't feel like philosophising with him about the question though. He knows very well what I mean.
I wanted to help Steven get back on his feet, but apparently he doesn't need my help. If I didn't know him, I probably wouldn't know he is drunk. He is betrayed only by his mischievous behaviour, he is a lot more fun like this. He is not careful about every word and movement with alcohol in his blood and I quite like it. "Come on, one more stop and then we'll get you to bed."
We walked through a long line of white corridors. They must all look the same pure white and abandoned, for him. I can see all the decorations on the walls, colourful carpets and the marks in hallways. That's why he kept asking me if I knew where we were going, and whether I didn't get lost. And I don't feel like telling him over and over I can navigate here as well as in the Palace.
So, to keep him busy on the way, I had Steven explain what Edgar fears so much and how it is supposed to happen. I need to know.
We were supposed to get to know each other before anything else and that is what happened, but as such it doesn't say anything about anything. Inevitably, we would've met and gotten to know each other. I mean it would be pretty hard not to, even if Edgar would've kept the crown. Groups of undead have appeared, just as she envisioned, but that doesn't prove anything either. Someone is always trying to provet he or she can control death the way we can. What evidence is this of an impending war? And why do I need Steven to stop it? Why should I put him in danger? I have my army and power. Why does Edgar want it? He was always interested only in his family. So why would he drag his son into all of this? What the fuck am I missing?
We stopped in front of one of a row of wooden doors. They all look exactly the same. I raised my hand to knock. Most people here complain Fate always knows exactly when they're going to come and it drives them crazy. There is no such thing for me.
The inhabitants of the Senate are no different from ordinary people. In addition to spending all their time outside of work here, they have their own lives, friends, hobbies, some even families. Fate is anything but like the others. Her job of predicting destinies has its specifics, but it didn't require her to give up her own body and float around in an apartment full of scattered, scrawled papers. She's just a weirdo.
"I want to see the vision you showed Edgar," I slammed the door behind us. A few pieces of paper on the ground lifted, others rustled as I stepped over them.
"I can't show it to you," she replied in an annoying high-pitched voice, not paying a shred of attention to me. With half her translucent body facing the window, she writes down something she saw. I mean, the levitating pen is scribbling something on a piece of floating paper, she's not doing anything. And judging by her view, the sun outside just set. It's always like this here. Like I said, she's just weird.
"Can't or won't?" I took another step towards her. The papers rustled again. I have this need to burn them. Every single one. Her included.
"I've seen you both, if I show it to either of you, it might change," she protested, hovering a few feet away from me. It begs the question of why Fate gave up the body. While in here, she would age really slowly. And her job is not exactly physically demanding. So why is her body getting in the way so much?
"If it's preordained, nothing can change these events, and we always come to the same, inevitable end. Otherwise, it doesn't matter who you show the vision to, because it can change at any point," Steven recited, picking up a piece of paper from the ground and smiling mischievously. He's right, he's pretty smart. "All these snippets are useless if the prophecies can be changed just by looking at them."
"Up to some point, they can all be changed, but I still can't show you," she insisted, pen and paper floating as she wrote something furiously again. With the body, it would be so much easier. For her and for me as well, because this is just making me angry. "I'm not going to let you play with destinies, his," she pointed at Steven. "or anyone else."
"Suppose you can't," I smiled with one of those perfectly icy smiles that made the blood run cold - or so the people say. Except she has no body, veins, or blood. I looked straight into the light eyes of the little blonde. "but surely you can explain to me how it is possible that you saw me in that vision. You've accomplished something so significant. Your powers could equal to Andra herself, and you're only going to tell Edgar?"
"Right after I saw it, I showed him the vision and he told you about it. I don't have to explain everything to all of you, do I?" she angrily defends her actions, but tooj a step back. I stopped her on the spot before she could take one more just in case she and made sure she couldn't move. I feel like hurting her, and I'm pretty sure it's only a matter of time before that happens. Damn, I really don't like her.
"Maybe you should, your loyalty belongs to the Heirs, not to the members of the Senate," I said sharply, without raising my voice.
"I am loyal to the Immortals," she replied calmly. I'm surprised she isn't lying.
"Yet, you didn't answer." Fate is trying to break out of my grasp that is holding her in place. The attempt is rather cute. She makes it so much easier for me. Without a body, she is just a clump of energy that can be manipulated.
"I can't explain it. I saw you two, together. Just as I see you now." Fate still insists. I almost believe her. But it's not true, not all of it. "Only together can you stop this."
"Didn't it occurred to you it's just a fake?"
"You can't spurn vision!" she cried angrily. "Soon the war will start with something old and dark, and you two must stop it together. Face it, side by side."
Something old? Dark? Side by side? I'm getting tired of these oldy unspecific answers. Maybe the vision is somewhere on the ground among other pieces of paper. Waiting for me with everything I need. Probably not. If she wrote it down, Edgar has the paper. He would take it just so we would have to come and ask for it. That leaves me with her.
"Old and dark? Why would Athran and Zessia had to stand together for something like that? We're not even divided like that…" said Steven behind me. I had almost forgotten he came with me. My thoughts are leaning to a different direction, how the whole vision began?
"I don't know what it is..." she exhaled heavily. My grip is starting to hurt her. She should speed up and stop lying if she wants to make it better. The problem is that I don't know which part is not true. She either doesn't know what to make of it and only has her assumptions or doesn't want to tell me the truth. She must know something... "It's old magic, very old. Older than you."
"So what? This place is built on a foundation older than me, held together by magic I have nothing to do with. That hasn't stopped me yet," I pressed. Fate cried out in pain. "What's coming after Taltrone?" if she doesn't want to show me the vision, she'll have to tell me. Fate was bravely silent for a moment. Too long for my taste.
"I don't know!" she cried suddenly, sobbing. This is a lie. I pulled her closer. Horror filled Fate's eyes, her shoulders trembling. What the fuck is she so afraid of? I haven't done anything to her yet. And she doesn't have much to lose. Apart from this job, she has nothing.
"Fate, I swear to my own Light, I can do this all day," I replied calmly, tightening a noose of magic around her that was crushing her even though she had no body. She is afraid of pain like everyone else and naively believes that nothing will happen to her without one. When did she give it up anyway?
"Maybe you shouldn't," Steven protested. I feel his hand on my shoulder. I don't really care about his advice though.
"What's next?" I repeated my question.
"I... I don't know..." her words were interrupted by pain. She cried out again.
"An!"
"What happens now, Fate?"
"Borders!" she sobbed. "Attack on the eastern border!" she replied in a quieter voice. Finally, this is a satisfactory answer that leads to a simple conclusion. Narral is involved in it.
"When?"
"I don't know," she whined. She raised her hand to stop me from a torrent of more pain. I'm not going to hurt her again, I need to get coherent sentences out of her. I did not relent, but why insist on pain. "It's going to happen soon. It's all filling up very quickly. Zessia gets attacked, that starts the war. And after that the darkness falls and death follows."
"You didn't warn anyone of what would happen in Quasnaw."
"I didn't know it was going to happen. Until it was too late," I let her go. Fate curled up on the floor. I believe this part, though it's no less disturbing. There's one reason why she wouldn't see it coming and it's bad.
"So, either your valuable abilities are deteriorating or..." I bit my lip hard. An explanation for everything is being offered, but that would put my whole family down. What's left of it anyway.
"Just leave me alone," she said. And I did her, I have everything I need.
We went back to my place, but Steven took us there. Not me. He took off his jacket again, unbuttoned his vest, and threw himself back on the bed. This time on the back. "Do you have a habit of torturing people working for you?"
"It depends on the circumstances."
"What circumstances fucking led you to torture a little girl?"
"You have no idea..." I looked at him. What does he even know about her? He has no idea how unbearable she is. If she weren't so horribly naïve and stupid, she might even be a suspect. If anything, I was too soft, her predecessor was much more reliable. If Damien hadn't killed him, I might have learned something valuable. Where is he anyway? 'He has work to do' doesn't cover it. "She looks like a little girl, but she's a bitch."
"That doesn't change a thing," he said irritably. "I don't like the vision either, but everything has its limits," he paused. What does Steven know about my limits? A cute face definitely won't stop me.
"Limits? You're kidding me? I thought you knew all about me from chants and those stupid books of yours, or did you just skip chapters you didn't like?" I started. "Do you really think I've crossed any of my limits with this? You know damn well what my position is!" he narrowed, but said nothing. "Plus, it all started when she lied."
"Did she?" he frowned, confused. "The whole time?"
"Do you think she'd still be alive if she'd been lying all along?" Damn, I hate it when I have to raise my voice. "You've seen the undead, and you know just as well as I do that something is going to happen. And she must have seen something. I just don't believe it was me."
"Something dark. That's so specific. Good thing she told you." that provocative tone again, as if he wanted to argue. I feel like bringing him to his knees, just for that. It would shut him up for sure.
"Steven,"
"You know what I don't get? How can you be so sure that you can't be in any of her visions?"
I lay down beside him and thought about the question for a moment. "Why does this part surprise you so much? You know what I am. I just can't. Fate sees the future that awaits ordinary, lively people, and I'm not that, not quite. In fact, it should work the other way around. She shouldn't even see you while you're with me. There's a lot going on around the Immortals."
Steven sat up on the bed. He looked at me for a good moment. Glanced over me again and again. "You're not alive," he stood up and stepped back.
"It depends on the definition. Right now I have a pulse, I have to breathe and dying still hurts for the most parts. As for my human destiny, it was fulfilled about five hundred years ago when I chose Immortality." Steven nodded his head a few times, went to the other room and returned a moment later with a glass in one hand and a full carafe in the other.
"In other words, you had to die to become this..."
This? This what? "You already know that."
"I think I'd remember that part," he drank the whole glass and poured himself another. He relaxed his hands, took off his vest, and rolled up the sleeves of his shirt. "Suddenly, it makes sense why there are so few of you. You were not only interested in stopping between life and death to avoid ageing, but in tearing yourself out of our world. There are no rules for you, no laws of nature. You can't die because you're already dead, but when that happens, you can't stay there. Because you're not dead. You can't move anywhere because you don't belong anywhere! Do you realise how twisted that is?"
"You're oversimplifying it a lot. We're not just doing it for the gigs," I sat up to get a good look at him. He' freaking out at the wrong time. I thought he gets it. The whole part of me dying a lot kind of implies it. "Someone has to run it all, and this is the only way. Do you have any idea what chaos there was before the Senate? Before anyone even bothered to make any rules? Before we raised the Barrier? What does it look like behind A Dun'Amanh?"
"So you just cast yourself as the protector of everything by turning into something so different? You don't belong here! Don't you find it crazy?" he poured himself another glass.
"We don't belong here!? Thanks to us, all of this is still standing! Maybe you haven't noticed, but it's not a job that others would rush to do! Not even other wolves want it." I didn't want to raise my voice, but I can't control myself. He constantly lectures me on how I should take things seriously and when I take them that way, he doesn't like it. I endure a lot, but I'm not going to be lectured on how to be an Immortal. "Immortality is a Service, I already told you. It provides us with everything we need. The power and the means to ensure no one abuses magic as before. So that we can stop anyone. It's the power we have as a family."
"Did you even have a choice?" he stopped his frantic march.
"You're kidding, right?" this question hurts. "You spent the whole evening with Jonathan. Does he strike you as someone who would force me into it?" Steven bit his lip. "He wanted the opposite for me. To have an ordinary life. And even then I had to promise him all those stupid things, that I would marry as an obedient daughter, have a family of my own..."
"How can you even keep such a promise?" he interrupted, half disgusted. He looks at me in a completely different way. He realised that despite it all, he's not like me. As if for the first time he realised that he is in the company of someone who had long since died. Who is not quite human..
"I am an Heiress and Immortal, Steven. And I always will be, but I'm not a walking rotting corpse. It's a really sophisticated spell."
"I need to think about it and sober up," and just like that, he disappeared from my bedroom with those words.
The decanter and glasses that had been levitating in the air are no longer held by anything or anyone. Both headed to the floor, shattered, shards flew across the room. I could have stopped them before they landed and put them back together, but I did neither. I know exactly how the pieces of glass feel on the ground and I don't want to change a thing about that. I left them there and laid back down on the bed myself.
Tonight was a fucking disaster, but I have some answers. So, there's hope. And where's hope, there's Light. Which means me.
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