Chapter 48
Chapter Forty-Eight
How many days have passed?
He had already lost count. In A’aru, it is difficult to track the passage of time because of the lack of a clear distinction between day and night.
The Evening Trumpet would usually serve as a guide, but its sound never reached the place where they were holding him.
Every so often, they took him to be immersed in Lethe; not taking him was equivalent to depriving him of something more urgent than food, but he still couldn’t keep count because the times they took him were completely random.
Alderian waited patiently for the changing of the guard, the only moment of the day when he learned of any news from the outside by listening to the sentinels’ conversations.
Days ago, he had felt the tug of his Silver Thread and knew that Augustine was well.
He ached for her to keep doing it regularly, just to stave off this permanent anxiety.
He flashed back to their last goodbye with heavy sorrow. That unthinkable split second when he could actually touch Augustine’s body and face with his own hands. He wished that moment had lasted just a bit longer, long enough to have more memories to hold on to.
The Guardian of Oblivion had been clear back then: he had to ensure Augustine’s survival at all costs.
Even if he didn’t fully grasp the sovereign’s motives, the monarch wasn’t surprised she’d triggered the anomaly.
He thought of Aldana’s letters… yes, surely that was the origin of it all.
But why would the Guardian of Oblivion be protecting her in secret?
These questions looped in his head as he stoically accepted a wrongful confinement. No one visited him; no one had interrogated him yet, but he figured he’d soon have to answer for his alleged crimes.
Something unusual snapped him out of his reverie. His Silver Thread glowed faintly, and he felt the Oblivion of Lethe penetrating its fibers. He sat up, startled.
Confused, he rushed to the door and pounded on it, peering through the narrow slot looking out into the hallway.
“Hey! Is anyone there?” he shouted, shoving the door in pure desperation.
In the distance, he heard a gate creak open and footsteps approaching. He banged on the door with even more urgency.
“What’s the problem?” asked the sentinel on guard, stunned. Until then, Alderian hadn’t even acknowledged them when spoken to.
“I need to get out. Now.”
The guard stared at him, then chuckled. “So you’ve finally snapped after all… get out? What makes you think you can pull that off?”
“I need to leave. Something bizarre is happening to my human.”
“Well, you should’ve thought of that before committing your crimes. You’re not here on vacation; you’re doing time under the laws of A’aru. Be grateful they haven’t hauled you off to Ilyr yet. That’s where you really belong.”
“I didn’t know you were the judge and the jury. Open the damn door. Now.”
Something in Alderian’s tone carried a commanding authority.
The guard’s hands shook as he fumbled with the key to unlock the door, but at the last second, he snapped out of it, shocked by his own weakness.
He stared at him as if waking from a trance and, panicked, he bolted, the sound of his footsteps fading within seconds.
“Dammit!” Alderian hissed through his teeth. The Oblivion was violently seeping into the Silver Thread.
It could only be Lethe’s Oblivion. The kind everyone knew not even the Sovereign Guardian of Oblivion could resist when returning from an incarnated life. It was the Oblivion that wiped away every trace of your existence as a human.
Defeated, Alderian slumped into a corner of his cell. By now, Augustine wouldn’t even remember him. Was she dead?
An unfathomable pain—a dark void—consumed him. His deepest fear had been realized, and he’d done nothing to stop it. The pain shifted into fury. And that fury turned into a loss of control unlike anything he’d ever felt.
* * *
“Sir, I’m telling you, he hexed me somehow… he’s dangerous,” the sentinel who’d just bolted said. His eyes were wide, and his look of pure terror convinced Prometius of the gravity of the situation.
“He must have noticed the change in his human’s Thread.
The Guardian of Order has extracted her spirit and forced her across Lethe.
She still maintains a connection to the human world, but it’s only a matter of time before it breaks,” the General explained, stroking his chin thoughtfully.
“We can’t underestimate Alderian. He is a powerful opponent. ”
As if he’d been summoned—silent and deadly—Alderian stormed into the room. He’d heard enough.
The sentinel jumped, but not Prometius. He’d already seen him like this: golden eyes and black wings oozing a red-gold glow, like volcanic rock with molten lava seeping through.
“Get out of here, Theo,” the commander ordered. “Find backup and take cover. You won’t survive if you stay near…”
The subordinate didn’t wait for a second order. He bolted in terror.
“Calm down, Alderian,” Prometius urged, his palms raised. “Return to your cell. You are a prominent warrior; I don’t want to kill you here.”
Alderian watched him with the eyes of a hunter. Prometius wasn’t even sure he was listening. He was unarmed, so he figured he’d be less lethal than if he carried that bizarre incandescent weapon. Still, he knew he couldn’t take him down alone. He needed to buy time until backup arrived.
Alderian tilted his head, sizing him up. Finally, he asked: “You say Augustine is in A’aru?”
His voice was a barely audible whisper.
Prometius held his breath. The sentinel was right. The urge to obey was overwhelming.
“Yes, she’s in A’aru,” he finally replied, fighting the instinct to kneel before him. Who was this A’aruin?
“Where?”
“In your palace… the party just dropped her off there.”
“Alone?” Alderian asked, his voice a low, dangerous murmur.
“That’s my understanding… Sir.”
Prometius closed his eyes in fury. He’d let himself be completely dominated.
Alderian brushed past him, and Prometius offered no resistance. He simply let him go, the way a vassal clears the path for his master.