Chapter 6
The water had long grown tepid, though that fact did little to stir either of us from our entangled state.
Cirian's head lay squarely against my chest, clumps of his auburn hair stuck to my flesh in swirls that rivaled the brushstrokes of the greatest artists.
His hands rested atop my knees as my legs surrounded him from both sides, holding him in place.
Exhaustion had begun to sink deeper into my body, aided by the residual heat of Cirian’s form pressed against mine. My eyes grew heavier with each passing moment, and I felt myself drift between waking and dream.
“—it’s going to work?”
Cirian’s words roused me once more, and I let out a soft groan as I flexed the muscles of my back. “What was that?” I asked, grogginess muddying the question.
“The solution from the Sleeper,” Cirian clarified. “Do you really think it’s going to work?”
“No one can be sure,” I admitted. “But I’m at my wits’ end, Cirian.
It’s been maddening, feeling so helpless while Tobias lies there, rotting in his bed.
I recognize the dangers of placing my trust in this Sleeper, but I also find myself feeling hopeful for the first time in months.
And that is something I’m not willing to let go of. Not yet.”
Cirian grew quiet, and for a brief moment, I thought he too must have slipped into slumber, but then he leaned forward, the tendrils of his hair lifting from my chest as he drew his knees to his chest, wrapping his arms around them.
“You don’t feel the same.”
It wasn’t a question. I didn’t need the thread between us to see his hesitance when it came to the idea.
“I want to,” he replied, his voice echoing against the tiled walls. “To believe that he’ll return to us, and these fears that coil around my heart will melt away. But I’ve come to understand that things are rarely so simple, especially pertaining to those that I love.”
“Could it not be this simple?” I asked, placing a hand on the slope of his shoulder. “What evidence do you have that this course will not succeed?”
“Nothing physical,” Cirian admitted. “Nothing I could use to convince you otherwise.”
“All the same, I’d still like for you to try. Help me understand your reluctance, and then maybe I can assuage whatever doubts you carry.”
He laughed at that. “I rarely deal in the tangible, Bastien. For me, faith comes before all else. And I know that is something you simply cannot reconcile.”
“Just because I lack the faith you place in your god doesn’t mean that I don’t have faith of my own. There are other things worthy of my belief.”
“Where then, do you place that faith?” he asked, his face obscured from me. “What do you, who seeks truth above all else, find worthy of such belief?”
“Myself,” I answered without hesitation.
“I place that faith in myself and the knowledge I have gathered throughout my life. And at times, I also entrust it to others. To the people who prove themselves true to their word, to those who understand that a shared humanity is the only way that this world will see suffering abolished. Through the work of our hands alone. There is no one coming to save humanity from itself. There is only us. And I find comfort in those truths.”
Cirian shook his head. “You speak of truths while ignoring the reality of what has happened before your very eyes. How can you deny that the sovereignty of the Source after witnessing its work firsthand?”
“I would be a fool to deny the existence of the source of magic,” I answered, words coming to a sharp point that I did not intend.
“But to believe it to be a benevolent force steering us toward morality is a childish notion. You claim that I’ve seen the work of the Source, yet I would argue I’ve seen nothing more than powerful acts of magic brought to life through the will of mankind.
While you place your faith in the existence of something that, at best, lacks humanity. How can you tolerate it?”
“I would ask you the same,” Cirian replied, bracing on either side of the tub and hoisting himself from the water.
He wrapped himself in a robe of royal blue before turning to face me.
“You speak of the faith you place within humanity, yet in my years, I have known nothing but the duplicitous and deceitful nature of all that is human. There is truth absolute when the Source speaks through me, and it is in that opinionless truth that I find solace.”
“Then it is the Source that speaks to you now regarding the Sleeper?” I pressed, rising to my feet as well, though the immediate chill that sank into my flesh made me regret the action.
“Does it tell you not to trust the man because he intends to deceive, or is it perhaps that you find the idea of someone else speaking for your precious Source to be unacceptable?”
“Do not reduce my concern to the vapid airs of jealousy,” Cirian spat. “Or do you think so little of me?”
I grit my teeth, the swell of regret in my stomach only growing as I continued. “I think that you are too wrapped within the delusions of the church to see clearly.”
Cirian let out a pained laugh. “There it is. You speak with such certainty that I am the one ruled by my beliefs, yet your vehement disdain for the church has blinded you to anything outside of your own narrow vantage.”
“Am I not justified in that disdain?” I argued. “Your beloved church robbed me of any connection I once had to my own kind. It murdered countless Reviled for merely disagreeing with their doctrine.”
“Because of those who abused their power for personal gain,” Cirian countered.
“Flawed, awful people who deserved fates far worse than they received. Do you think that the Source did not also mourn the deaths of those Reviled? That it didn’t share in their pain as the magic was drained from their veins?
A sorrow that deep and profound echoes through the Source to this day, Bast. It mourns, just as you do. ”
“You’re saying that the Source is aware of the attempted extermination of the Reviled? Then explain to me why it did nothing to prevent it. What good is an omnipotent deity if they can do nothing to prevent the destruction of those who worship it?”
Cirian hesitated.
“Precisely. Now you understand why I cannot place my faith in it. For if the Source is what you say it is, and it chose to do nothing while my people were being obliterated, then it is no benevolent thing. And I want no part of it.”
I strode to the opposite side of the washroom, retrieving a plush towel and wrapping it around my waist. Cirian hadn’t moved by the time I made it to the door leading into his quarters. Letting out a sigh, I turned to him.
“I need to sleep. We can discuss this more in the morning, if you’d like. But as it stands, I will be attempting to wake Tobias once I return to Paradise.”
Cirian did not meet my gaze. When the tension in the air had grown too heavy to tolerate, I left the washroom, returning to the sofa by the fireplace.
I buried my head into a pillow, letting out a stifled growl of frustration.
Exhaustion took over almost immediately, and before long, I fell into a slumber that rivaled the dead.
Dreams had never been a comfort to me. As one of the Reviled, my grandmother often warned me of the dangers of frivolous dreaming.
That if I wasn’t careful, I could project myself so far into the Ether that I may not be able to return to my body, no matter how hard I searched.
I always assumed these warnings to be nothing more than old wives’ tales.
Yet, whether the danger was real or not, Gran taught me how to shut down the part of my mind that birthed dreams. To dig out the roots of dreaming from my subconscious, so sleep brought only peaceful oblivion till dawn rose anew.
I was a child the last time I dreamed. If asked, I could not recall the details of said nocturnal hallucination, only that I felt the warmth of my mother’s embrace as if she were with us once more.
That was the night I first projected myself into the Ether.
The strength of my longing propelled me past the boundaries of our home and out into a sea of twinkling stars.
It took me hours to find my way back. To find Gran knelt by my bedside, praying to all of the old gods that I would return.
When I finally awoke, Gran squeezed me so tight I thought I was going to break.
That dream was the last time I remember seeing my mother.
Even if it was only the image of her imprinted in my mind.
It was supposed to be my last dream. And yet, there I found myself, standing at the edge of a chasm, as if the earth had been ripped open by the hands of an unknown god, and I knew that I had once again succumbed to those empty promises of dreaming.
A flash of light streaked across the dark canopy overhead, illuminating shapeless shadows among the clouds that hung low in the sky.
Breaking through the cloudbank, I marveled as a shooting star descended into the chasm below, falling at an impossible speed deeper and deeper till the darkness that stretched the breadth of the canyon swallowed it up, leaving trails of distorted color burned into my vision.
Familiarity coiled around my chest, though I was more than certain I’d never been exposed to such alien surroundings.
Somewhere below, down through the layers of shadow and fog, a noise rose above the gentle wind.
A terrible groan that set my teeth on edge.
It swelled till the very rock I stood upon trembled, and I clapped both hands over my ears to keep from breaking apart.
Just as quickly, the noise dissipated, and I was suddenly aware of the presence of another standing alongside me at the edge of oblivion.
“There you are.”
The words punctured my heart like thorns from a rose, each exacting a swell of pain that I thought would unmake me. As I straightened, hands falling from my ears, I turned to see familiar copper curls and eyes of emerald green.
“Tobias?”