11 #3
Abel smiled. “The Ancients were mysterious beings; traces of their truths can be found in many religions, light or dark.
But they were not alive as we are alive; they were not concerned with simple existence.
They did not entirely understand hierarchy; they understood goals.
Where goals clashed, they understood both war and compromise—but they are not as we are. They are not as you are.
“Those words at our core define our abilities and our duties clearly. But those duties are not the entirety of what we must
be in order to fulfill them. There are some imperatives that I cannot counter, and some I might. Helen made her choice because
she had managed to isolate the words that prevented her from choosing as she desired.”
“And you?”
“I am not as Helen was. I do not struggle as she did. I would not make the choice she made; too much would be lost. Were I
to make a similar choice, I could not fully predict how that would affect my guardianship of the Lake. The Towers were created
to ward and protect against Shadow. I was created to protect the Barrani race.
“You must now choose, Chosen.”
The walls above the stairs were bare; there were no words magically imprinted on them. “Choose what?”
“Ascent or descent?”
“You’re the one who said you wanted me to meet your friend!”
The Avatar smiled.
Terrano appeared beside him, visible for the first time since they’d arrived. He was pinching the bridge of his nose. “He’s
teasing you. His humor is like that. Try not to take it personally.”
“Wait, that was supposed to be funny?”
“I think so—sometimes I find it hard to tell until after the fact. But I’m pretty sure.”
“It is perhaps a mild attempt at humor,” Abel conceded. “But it is also meant to be instructive. Choose: will you ascend or
descend?”
“How is this supposed to be instructive?”
Terrano snickered. Kaylin considered smacking the back of his head but decided—barely—against.
“There is a reason much of my power and intent was and had to remain focused on this Tower. It is my most secure location.
The Shadow—my guest—was not confined, as most of you are, to a simple state of being, a single plane. In order to make certain
the Barrani were safe in the age of war, I had to be everywhere at once, in a very restricted domain.
“You ask why I did not save those who chose to take this test.”
She hadn’t, at least not out loud.
“Because in the end, they were offered a choice, and they made it. Understand, Chosen, that choice is part of my imperative. Should the Barrani choose to be uncharacteristically giving, I would accept that with gratitude and
possibly even joy. Were they to become like the Tha’alani, I might then be able to divert some of my attention to creation
of art and wonder, not pretty cages and fortresses within the High Halls.
“But that is not the people they are. And I note that Tha’alani were graced with no such guiding sentiences as mine by the
Ancients who created all.”
“Ascend,” Kaylin said, putting action into words. “Going down the stairs is easier, and if the Shadow is anything like you,
I’m going to be exhausted at the end of the meeting, not the beginning.”
Kaylin knew very, very little about the Shadow guest within the High Halls. When she had come to confront that guest, she’d
assumed that the guest would finally be destroyed, and the High Halls could put an end to its terrible history of testing
and killing the so-called weak. She wasn’t upset about what actually happened.
But she didn’t know enough about this Shadow.
She knew enough about Shadows now to know that some had been enslaved; they had interests that didn’t align with conquer the whole world and destroy it. This particular guest had done so much damage in its time—to both the Barrani and, indirectly, the Dragons.
But he’d been sent to do that damage.
Because of the High Halls, he’d been prevented from doing more.
And now . . . the Avatar of the High Halls and the Shadow were somehow friends? Kaylin had a headache.
“We are not as you are,” Abel said, his voice softer. “And we have more in common than I have with the Barrani I must nurture
and protect. His understanding of my kin is, in some fashion, far greater than my own.”
“. . . are you saying your guest understands things beyond fear and manipulation?”
The Avatar nodded. “Far better than I in his history within what used to be our shining city, our beacon of art and philosophy.”
“What was he?”
“You will see. But in part I wish to introduce you because of Terrano’s injury and the outcome that followed. There is a reason
I was forced to expend almost all my power to keep his influence contained. He exists in a fashion similar to—and very different
from—Terrano. But he has taken a liking to Terrano, although he disapproves of the political machinations of some of his kin.”
They took the stairs with elegance and grace, or as much as Kaylin could force herself to muster.
As it was a long climb, she lost both, treading without thought like a determined Hawk.
She had heard chimes when she’d walked these steps before and heard them now—but they weren’t isolated; they were part of a distant music that grew louder as she approached, as if her steps, as if she herself, were part of the song.
The Marks on her arms began to glow a bright, warm gold. That was normal for the Marks of the Chosen. But when they lifted
themselves from her skin, she stumbled before righting herself by reaching for the rail that now adorned the stairs. The metal
was the color of the Marks, and it was warm to the touch, almost as if it were skin.
The stairs opened up, the song rippling outward, the notes shifting and changing in tone and increasing in volume. Light could
be seen at the height of the stairs, a light so bright it caused Kaylin to squint.
“I should have told you to close your eyes,” Terrano muttered. “Sorry.”
A gentle laugh, in time somehow with the music, was the Shadow’s response. “Welcome, Corporal. Welcome, Chosen. We have much
to discuss, you and I.”