Chapter twelve
Chapter eleven
The next day, he takes me to Rome. The day after, Sydney. And then Las Vegas. Moscow. Istanbul. And on we go, on a tour of the end of the world.
Often, Ryan joins us, or Aris brings his gifted followers—to their utter delight—but mostly, it’s the two of us, where I have a front seat to utter destruction. He enjoys utilizing what I call his lethal touch, where he simply taps a building and it disintegrates. He likes zapping, where he points at things and they either explode or implode.
Aris likes transforming, too. His favorite form is one of a large, black dragon. When I stand next to it, I don’t even reach the top of his talons. His scales are as twice as wide as I am tall, his roar so loud it shakes the ground and shatters every piece of glass within a mile radius. In this form, he gives in to his true nature, where he is more beast than civilized man.
I feel a duality watching him spray fire from his mouth, transfixed by the majestic beauty and horrified by what he uses the powerful body for.
Sometimes, even Aris grows tired; slaughter is monotonous when there is no one to oppose him. He has minions who do most of the work for him—mindless, disgusting, indestructible beasts, insatiable in their need to kill and appease their master. During these times, Aris takes me to the tallest building in each city, where he has a good view of his monsters. Like piranhas, they are quick to devour; buildings fall in minutes—a tristate area decimated in days.
Where he chooses to attack next is random. Sometimes he will throw pins at a map, and other times he lets his followers choose during mass. Because his attacks are so unpredictable, there are usually people in the cities when we arrive.
Some escape; most don’t.
A month of this passes. Just standing and watching the world end. Listening to him laugh while it does.
I keep hoping that he will tire of me, that I'll begin to bore him, that something, anything, will change, but he is unwavering .
Sometimes, I can sleep, but mostly I just lay. I wonder where we will go the next day and how many will die. I wonder how much longer the spell will take to work. He had a moment of fogginess weeks ago, but that’s been the only sign.
I stick to his side like a bur; I witness every atrocity. But it doesn’t do any good.
At what point does hope become disillusionment?
One day, we are standing on a bell tower in Florence, watching the city decay and burn. A place of art, the center of the Renaissance and Western culture, in ruins. Two streets over, a creature made of thorns is destroying a piazza, laying dents in statutes and mosaics, and turning buildings to dust.
I feel lost watching, almost angry. Does Aris really not remember the history books we read in our cell? How can he not care at all?
I consider toppling off the side of the tower. The fall would kill me. Would it be quick? How long would I lay there on the ground, head caved in? Would I be so demented from the fall that, as red blotted my vision, I’d think the blood was stars?
Aris says, “You are being quiet.”
I turn to him. “I think I might be depressed.”
He sighs; he had suspected this. “It’s all of the murder, isn’t it?”
“Maybe, yes.”
“It won’t be much longer.”
Until it’s over. And then what? Will I live in that house with him, forever? Will he kill me and go to the next planet? Take me with him?
Will I stay with him, always?
Aris clicks his tongue, and I look back at him. “It isn’t entertaining, seeing you defeated like this.”
“So you’ll stop trying to kill everyone?”
He gives me a look. “No.”
“Right.”
Something has been burning for some time, but it’s then that the smoke rises, clogging my throat, making my eyes water, and it becomes an effort not to cough. I look back at the monster: two stories tall, with thin, transparent skin that black veins pulse beneath—thick, filled with viscous poison. Thorns the size of a horse protrude from its back, and shooting out when it spits acid from a dislocated, protruding jaw.
I never saw its birth. Was it a follower of Aris?
Did it ask for this?
“Cheer up,” Aris says suddenly, leaning over the side of the tower.
His pointer finger raised, he twirls it, and a small convenience store collapses under invisible weight, compressing until there is just a crater where there the building once was. Then, the same thing happens fifty feet away—a big hole grinds into the cobblestone.
Aris moves his finger another way, and a curved line appears under the two craters.
I scowl at the sight of a smiley face.
:)
“Funny.”
“Thank you, Mary.”
A pause.
“Of course,” continues Aris, too casually, “you could ask Jaegen for a spell to make you feel better.”
I do my best not to react at the jab. He hasn’t mentioned Jaegen or my scheming for over a month now. “Still stuck on that,” I remark cautiously. Where is he going with this?
“I don’t mention your collusion hardly enough.”
His tone has abruptly hardened, and I’m surprised by the gloom on his face. This is a test, like dangling meat in front of a dog and commanding it to sit. Testing my obedience .
Will I stick up for Jaegen? Will I again deny my interactions with him and give Aris a reason to punish me?
I don’t respond, curious to see what he’ll do next. Maybe I don’t need to jump; maybe he’ll simply push me off the tower.
“Join me for dinner,” he says.
I pause, surprised. “Aren’t we in the middle of something?” I ask, casting a pointed glance at the creature. It makes a sound stuck between a gag and a moan, then releases a spray of scalding liquid that dissolves everything in its path.
Aris shrugs, drawing my attention. “It will fall by night,” he says, waving the city away.
Again, the monster loudly regurgitates.
I shut my eyes, but that only makes the smoke smell stronger. I picture thick clouds entering through my mouth, traveling to blacken and poison my lungs, until they are scorched like this city will be.
The clouds turn red, as red as the ink on the book in the mages’ library. As red as the the warning written there, in the pages about Aris: DO NOT SUMMON.
“Dinner, then,” I say absently, gaze returning to the monster. “Sure.”
I study the wine in front of me: dark, served in a crystal chalice. The last time I drank in this house, I was nearly sacrificed. I shove the thought aside.
By the glass is a pre-prepared plate with a large-cut filet mignon, baked potatoes stuffed with butter and cheese, blackened asparagus, and steaming mushrooms—more than I can eat and probably not what I would have chosen for myself. I haven’t had much of an appetite after watching a monster vomit for hours on end. Still, it smells incredible, and was probably prepared by some of the world’s best chefs—kidnapped, naturally.
I’m wearing a long, satin gown with puffed sleeves, looking virginal. Elizabeth eyed the white dress with disdain when she buttoned up the back. Maybe she thought it would offend her god to see me in a color contrary to him, but it was the dress I chose and she could not refuse me .
When I entered the dining room, Aris stood and said nothing. I felt the heat of his gaze as he looked me up and down—a slow perusal, studying my every curve in a way that almost made me feel attractive. He looked closely, memorizing everything that changed about me from when we were together hours earlier.
All of the candles are already lit, the food delivered, wine brought. All needs provided for, there’s no need for servants on standby; we are the only two in the room.
He sits opposite to me, at the other end of a table that could easily sit thirty. It’s so long that I wonder if I’ll even be able to hear him if we speak at base volume. Neither of us have spoken yet, so I haven’t been able to test the theory.
Aris continues to eye me in an off-putting way, like he can’t decide whether he wants to kiss me or kill me. Either is equally likely, and I wish he would just pick one and get it over with.
To settle my nerves, I take a drink, recalling his face when he mentioned Jaegen on the bell tower. He was bothered and brought up dinner in response. Why? A part of me is braced, expecting something.
The temperature is normal, which is good. The air gets frigid around Aris when he’s in a mood, just as it heats around Jaegen if he’s upset. Still, temperature isn’t necessarily indicative of his emotions. I can’t let my guard down.
I take another drink. The wine is incredible, probably older than I am. It could be imagined, but I feel it flood through me, the alcohol strengthening my resolve and nerves, dulling my senses. I should slow down, considering my empty stomach, but I have it in my head that the more I drink, the braver I’ll be.
And I need courage.
In Aris’ hands is his own chalice. I’ve no idea why he’s poured himself a glass, since he refuses to eat or drink, but it’s filled with wine. The way he swings it around, it looks like a prop, and he moves it so sloppily that red liquid sloshes over the rim.
He looks handsome—I can admit that. He’s dressed to the nines in a black suit and tie, tailored to accentuate his lean, powerful body. His dark hair is combed back, revealing luminescent, striking features .
Through the dim light, I notice Aris’ lips upturn, self-satisfied. He likes that I’m watching him.
Embarrassed, I set my cup down and begin to cut my food, for lack of anything else to do. The meat is a little raw, as it tends to be when prepared by the chefs here. At first, I found it disgusting, but I’ve grown used to it. I prepare a bite of steak with the potatoes as the wine begins to settle, flushing my skin.
Suddenly, Aris sets his glass down, hard enough that liquid again floods over the side, staining the table cloth. The chalice doesn’t break by miracle alone.
I take my bite and then set down my utensils.
Waiting.
We stare at each other for a few long moments. There are clearly words on the tip of his tongue, but Aris keeps them to himself, face twisted from effort.
“Why would you turn to him?” he finally says, and I realize then how long he’s held these words back.
It’s been eating at him for a month.
In hindsight, I see the moments he almost asked this—how he has turned to me, looking at me intently, almost angrily. How his lips opened, then shut. How he then turned away.
He should have just asked earlier; it’s a stupid question. Why turn to Jaegen? Why work against Aris?
My eyes narrow. “You’ve brought me nothing but pain.”
Aris scoffs, leaning back in his chair. “Pain.”
I can tell what he’s thinking: Like she even knows it.
I can do so much worse.
I poke at my meat and imagine it’s him I’m stabbing, but a fork would do nothing. I think of the bullets that hit him in Germany and fell to the ground, crushed flat like pennies, and I set down the utensil to rub at my temples, shutting my eyes. I realize this dinner for what it is: a confrontation.
The air is heavy.
“If Jaegen approached me, why wouldn’t I help him after everything you’ve done?”
“Look at me.”
I do.
His gaze is harsh, almost feverish in its intensity. “ Always look at me,” he demands .
“I’m looking,” I say primly.
His smile is strained, and he nods once, sharply—content, so long as I give my attention.
“We didn’t need wine and steak for you to accuse me of working with Jaegen,” I say.
“You’re right.” He picks up his glass again, now studying the crystal. I have the sense he’s doing it to avoid my gaze; I doubt he cares for the craftsmanship. “This conversation is long overdue. I suppose I figured it would be civil to share it over a meal.”
“And what have you been wanting to say?”
The chalice is set back down, liquid sloshing. A few drops spill over the edge and onto a lace tablecloth that would be stained if it weren’t black.
“You do not understand Jaegen,” Aris says, leaning forward so abruptly that his chair scrapes against the ground. His black eyes are set, narrow, and I’m reminded of how school teachers used to talk to me.
Lecturing , that’s a good word for it.
I’m a little offended, honestly. Does he think I'm so simple?
I am fully aware that Jaegen is dangerous. He burned me, his very presence scorched me. He felt… off. Threatening. If Silva is to be believed, Jaegen does not give fair bargains. What’s more, the mages probably even sought to destroy him.
“I know that you see me as this pet or something, but…” I hesitate, drinking in his dark eyes. “But I’m not stupid.”
His head tilts to the side. “Maybe not,” he admits after a moment, surprising me, making me suspicious. It’s like in a game of chess, where sometimes one piece must be surrendered in order to further the game.
“Though,” he continues, “you do not know the full story.”
I pick up my wine again and take a hearty sip. So it’s going to be that kind of night. That kind of conversation, where I learn nothing except for how much I don’t know.
“I don’t,” I agree with as much civility as I can manage.
He perks a brow. “Would you like to hear it? ”
I sit back, cradling the glass to my chest. Is he teasing me? He has me right where he wants me—he could keep me here, left wanting and waiting, and he knows it.
But he looks earnest. “My story, and Jaegen’s.”
My heart races with hope, but I don’t dare show it; he’d use it against me. I keep my face as cool and composed as I can, staring evenly at him. “I’d like to hear it.”
“I’m sure you would.” Aris smiles shortly, but composes himself quickly. He thinks for a moment, then says, “I must say, it’s hard to know where to begin when you are something like me, which has existed since the beginning.”
I consider. I can concede that point, though I doubt that Aris is actually having trouble. It’s impossible to picture. He’s probably had this speech rehearsed for weeks.
Aris thinks for a moment, then he tells me something that I know in my bones is real: “Jaegen is my brother.”
I sit up straight, then lean forward, my mouth falling open. The haze from the wine, settling like a limb falling asleep, leaves in an instant.
Brother?
“You have a sibling,” I say and shake my head at the concept.
How… unexpected.
I picture Jaegen and Aris side by side and cannot imagine two more different individuals. How is it possible that they’re related?
And then, I think: Why didn’t Jaegen tell me this?
Aris sighs and begins drumming his fingers on the table. “Two siblings, actually. I suppose you could consider us triplets.”
I shake my head, still confused by the first revelation. “I asked you so many times about—”
“Where I came from, what I wanted—I know, but this is the past. Eons old. You must understand that there isn’t much use discussing it.”
“But Jaegen is here, now .”
His nostrils flare, and the table quakes as he slams his hands down on the fine mahogany. While he works to compose himself, I glance nervously at the tittering china and serving dishes .
“I don’t want his name on your lips,” he says like a demand. “Not in my presence.”
I take another sip of wine for nerves, trying to slow my heart. No J word. Duly noted.
It’s not that I think that he would hurt me, not necessarily, but he has been volatile today. Even more unpredictable than usual.
Aris’ eyes continue to twitch for a moment before he straightens the tie he put on for dinner. “Do you want to argue, or do you want to listen?” he asks, voice now level and what he considers to be reasonable.
I say nothing.
He settles, but still looks unhappy when he says, “The three of us were created to influence the universe.”
I already have questions. Created ? By who, or what?
I ball my hand into a fist to stop myself from asking. Aris is finally telling me things; I don’t want to interrupt and risk him changing his mind.
“Our maker was torn, you see,” Aris continues. “He, or it , you could say, didn’t know how to rule. His thoughts contradicted one another, leaving him indecisive. Ineffective. And so he created us: me, as Chaos, Jaegen, as a neutral Watcher, and my sister, reigning as Order. We were forged to make these decisions for him.
“As you know, I am Chaos. What my sister built, I destroyed; what was whole, I fractured, and I always won; kicking a tower of blocks is much simpler than stacking them in the first place. Less time-consuming, and,” he smiles, “more fun.”
I am Chaos.
:)
My face heats in the drafty room as I recall the events from earlier. Jaegen is wrong—Aris is evil. He’s telling me that he was created to destroy .
Take his memory and purpose, and he’ll just revert back. Even if the spell works, it won’t matter.
“As you have likely gathered, my sister and I did not ‘get along,’” Aris goes on as I struggle to mask my horror. “We were two halves, the antithesis of the other. Jaegen was a different shape. Something I didn’t consider. While my sister and I acted, complimenting the other, his role was to sit back and observe. The neutral nothing. The Watcher.
“He argued, sometimes,” acknowledges Aris, picking up his glass again. He looks into the red liquid, as if at a memory, brows pushed together, before continuing, “He urged us to find common ground, but such was impossible—against our reason for existence. Still, he resented us for not listening. After a certain point, Jaegen stopped accepting what we had to say, and he finally acted, taking the role of my sister.”
I wait for him to continue, but Aris has paused here. Tentatively, I ask, “Taking the role? Did he… kill her?”
Aris raises a brow. “‘Kill?’ She was an abstraction.”
“But so are you,” I say, “and you have a personality and thoughts.”
“If you consider the removal of those things to be death, then yes, he murdered her,” says Aris. “Personally, I would say something more like he… consumed her.”
I stare at him, then lean back in my chair. The firm back helps support my body and mind both; if I were standing, I’d have fallen from shock.
This is a… lot. And, again, entirely unexpected.
First of all, Aris has siblings. Two. And they were all created. God, as mankind knows him, does exist. He’s always existed, just not how we thought. He isn’t all-loving or wrathful or anything in between; he created his children to feel those things for him. He made Aris, Jaegen, and another.
And then Jaegen killed his sister. Consumed her. Took her place.
I study Aris, searching for some shred of humanity. He had a sister and she’s gone now—certainly that hurts him in some way. It must penetrate. And yet, Aris is composed. He told me about her death almost casually, like a war reporter .
Disappointment rushes through me—not at him, but at myself. Why did I think he’d care? Why did I even look for emotion?
I finally manage words, speaking slowly. “What Jaegen did to your sister… you can be killed.”
Aris gives me a look like, don’t even think about it . Then, he sighs. “We can relinquish ourselves. Knowing her, she did so simply because Jaegen asked her to.”
“Seriously? She killed herself?”
“I would assume.” Aris shrugs. “She was noble, and obliging. I requested some of her magic to give to the humans, and she offered it without question.”
So that’s how he did it. I’d always wondered.
“Killing someone doesn’t seem very… neutral of Jaegen,” I say after a moment.
I suddenly realize that I said Jaegen’s name aloud and tense, waiting for him to snap, but Aris only shrugs again. Instead of feeling relief, his informal, relaxed demeanor aggravates me—doesn’t he see how important this is?
A neutral being did something violet and chaotic. The three of them might not be constrained to their assignments; maybe they can diverge. Make choices.
Change .
Maybe I was wrong in my prior assumption and Aris isn’t evil. Maybe Aris doesn’t have to be this way.
Something tells me not to push him on this point, at least not now, so I swallow the thought; it tastes sour.
“Well, if the three of you were created for singular purposes, and Jaegen broke that rule, won’t your creator punish him?” I ask.
“Maker put every thought and feeling he had into the three of us. What is left is, essentially, a husk,” he tells me. “As of now, he doesn’t care what we do; he doesn’t feel, or act. That is our job.”
My brows furrow. God’s out of the equation, then, and my options are back to two devils—brothers, apparently.
“So Jaegen killed your sister for power,” I say. My brain feels fuzzy from trying to put all of this together. I haven’t had answers for so long, and now, he is offering them freely. “Does that mean he’s stronger than you now?”
Aris gives me an exasperated look. “For shame, Mary! All you do is try to find ways to kill me.”
I flush. Too much wine. I didn’t even think before saying that. “I’m not—I just wanted to know,” I say, sloppily trying to recover. “I mean, he has two of you inside of him. Doesn’t that… double the power?”
“It doesn’t work like that.”
I’m not sure if I believe him, which he picks up on. Aris’ mouth twists to the side, half-amused, half-annoyed. “If Jaegen is so much more powerful, why is he not here?” asks Aris, gesturing around the candlelit room. “Why not come and strike me down in his almighty wrath?”
I pause, considering Aris’ point. If Jaegen was stronger than Aris, why turn to me for help? Maybe the two are evenly matched.
Well, then. Back to square one.
Again, I run through everything he just told me, considering the puzzle. It’d be easier to solve if I could zoom out and see the box, to know how things are meant to look, but the picture stays out of sight as the pieces continue to grow before me.
“That is the beginning of the story,” says Aris.
My brows raise. There’s more that he’s willing to share?
“You’ve asked several times why I came here,” he says.
I lean forward with my elbows on the table, manners forgotten in my eagerness. “Yes?” I push.
Aris smiles and leans forward, too; he loves a captive audience.
“I found this planet, and your species—products of a cosmic mistake. Of course,” he says, rolling his eyes, “my sister forged the elements and bacteria, but the universe made mankind on its own . I was intrigued by this immaculate conception, and I stayed.”
“Babylon,” I say, recalling the historical texts. “Egypt.”
Aris nods, then clicks his tongue. “I interacted with mankind for a bit—you know my lovely little followers—but I grew bored. When I left, Jaegen arrived. Apparently, he was also interested. In my absence, he stayed, doing… whatever he does. Making wars, starting religions.” Aris waves a hand like this is child’s play, something he is too old for and which no longer interests him.
At this point, I’m used to his flippancy when talking about humans, and his disregard for our wellbeing. It’s not worth the waste of energy chastising him—instead, I try to read between the lines, staring at the tightness on Aris’ face.
Jaegen and Aris seem to really hate one another.
“So, you came back because Jaegen’s here?”
“I returned to seek retribution for my sister.”
A pause, and then, “I thought you didn’t like her.”
“I didn’t, but there’s an order to things—even I understand that. Order must exist for me to break it; if everything is Chaos, then nothing is Chaos.” He looks at me, and I nod along.
It’s economics. Value depreciated. Inflation.
“So you were worried that losing her would make you less powerful?” I ask.
“You misunderstand.” He sighs. “No.”
If that’s not the case, then…
As I did before, I wonder if there’s something else going on here. Something deeper. Aris has siblings, one killed by the other. Is this all really about “order,” or is it because he loved his sister, cared for her?
Is he even capable of such a thing?
For some reason, I think of the sharp way he demanded that I always look at him. Continuously wanting my attention—could that be love, a twisted, deformed version of it?
Some part of me hopes—
Oh, I won’t go there.
“What was her name?” I find myself asking. “Your sister.”
He looks a little surprised by the question. “She was called ‘Sem.’”
Maybe it’s the light, but something does seem to flicker in his eyes there. Real, or another trick?
Before I can pass judgment, the look is gone, and Aris continues, “In any case, Jaegen has been here for years now. He cares for this planet, and it is something to strike out against. ”
I blink. “Wait, what? That’s why you’re doing all of this—to get back at Jaegen?”
It’s not because it’s in his nature to destroy, but to avenge his sister. I almost don’t believe it, but, tragically, it makes sense.
Three gods in a sandbox. Making castles, kicking them down. That is how worthless we are.
Grains of sand.
Ignoring my outburst, Aris goes on, “Little did I know, Jaegen prepared for my arrival. When he consumed my sister, Jaegen consumed her magic as well. He gave the Grand Mage the spell to contain me, and you know what happened after that.”
He offers a crooked grin, displaying his hands like a magician after a trick. I can only stare, shocked by the revelations he’s piled on me.
The Grand Mage accepted the spell to contain Aris, yet he also wanted to work with Aris to fight Jaegen. Was he playing them both?
Look how that ended for him, a quiet but relentless part of me murmurs. Do you think your end will be any different?
“There is your story. Do you feel better now for knowing it?” asks Aris.
Something about the look on his face shifts my mood. That smile. This is a joke to him; he is trying to entertain me.
“How do I know you’re not lying?” I ask. “How do I know any of this is real?”
The only one who could corroborate the information would be Jaegen, and he warned me that Aris would try to show him in a negative light. Then again, my experiences with Jaegen haven’t inspired fond memories. I feel less safe around him than I’ve ever felt around Aris.
But still.
Finally, his smirk falls, and, as he leans back in his chair, he looks almost annoyed by the accusation. “I only lied to you outright once, when I told you I’d gotten bored of you,” says Aris.
The only time? “What about the months inside of Henry?”
He rolls his eyes. “I said ‘outright.’”
As I frown, he watches me and waits for me to challenge him, but I’m not here to argue the semantics of words; he deceived me, plain and simple. I won’t debate that. And I won’t let my emotions get in the way of answers.
“So you’re just going to kill everyone because you’re mad at Jaegen.”
“I would say I am more than a little mad,” he replies. His lips quirk into another smirk, but the edges of his lips are sharper now. “Jaegen messed with the balance of things, and I must dance the steps I have been assigned. He wants to stay on Earth, so I will destroy it.”
To his surprise, I scoff.
“What?” he demands.
“Oh, you just have to destroy the world. It’s such a terrible task, and Jaegen’s forced your hand. Is that really what you’re going with?”
Aris makes an impatient gesture with his hands. Yes, and?
“You like it.” I lean forward, so far that my sleeve gets caught in my dinner and I have to tug out of potatoes and sauce, disgust twisting my features when I look back at Aris. “This isn’t some assignment. What you’re doing, you enjoy . You made a goddamn smiley face today!”
His smile stays, but the look in his eyes tells me he isn’t amused.
Careful, Mary. He is omnipotent and evil and knows that you’re working against him. Be a little less argumentative.
Again, my inner voice. Sometimes she can be very wise.
I’m about to apologize—never mind that I’m not sorry—when Aris surprises me for the hundredth time tonight by saying, “I know that you are attached to this planet. It isn’t… uninteresting.”
My eyes narrow at the concession.
He pauses to pick up his glass, raising the wine to his lips to take a whiff before setting it back on the table. “There are fascinating inventions here,” he continues wistfully. “Certain ways of life. I understand your sense of loyalty and desire to preserve this world. But, Mary, your anger toward me is misplaced.”
“Misplaced,” I repeat, an edge to my voice.
“Jaegen has doomed this world. He is the catalyst, and I am but a tool. Whether I accept this task with enthusiasm or reluctance is irrelevant. There is no use dwelling in the past; it’s time to look forward.”
We study each other across the long table for a few seconds, his eyes penetrating, and I consider my path forward. He’s been so unpredictable lately. Pushing him could have serious consequences. But this is one of the only times he’s given me answers.
“I don’t get it,” I finally say, taking the leap, and his lips straighten. “In our cell, you told me that you wanted to rule the world, not end it.”
He runs two long, pale fingers across his chin in consideration. “I was deliberating,” he admits. “I thought that being this planet’s ruler would bother Jaegen more, but I realized the necessity of destruction.”
Necessity.
I rub my eyes, uncaring of the black liner Elizabeth put on. Answers are great, but I hate hearing him talk like this. It just sounds so inevitable, as if he’s truly indifferent. And I guess he is.
“You’ll destroy the world and all the people in it… what, to make a point that what Jaegen did was wrong?” I ask. “What will that fix? Order won’t be restored. Sem will still be gone.”
Aris says nothing, and I lean forward as something else occurs to me. “Unless you think he cares about Earth so much that he’ll relinquish himself and Sem to you…”
“That’s certainly a possibility.”
I barely stop myself from scoffing, recalling how Jaegen compared humans to ants. He stopped my heart by accident; he doesn’t care about people. We are toys to Aris; we are toys to Jaegen. Break these humans, and he will find others.
There is a whole universe out there. And if Jaegen can’t find any, he’ll make his own. We mean nothing.
Still, at least Jaegen isn’t actively destroying us.
“Why tell me any of this?”
Aris purses his lips. “As I said, I understand your loyalty to this world, but it is not me who damned it,” he says. “I visited, but I left this place alone. Now, it is an unfortunate casualty of Jaegen’s greed.”
I stare at him for a few seconds. Why does he care who I blame ?
“You know, there doesn’t have to be any kind of fight between you and Jaegen,” I say. “Why don’t you two—can’t you come to some sort of an agreement?”
“I told you not to say his name,” he reminds me.
I bite the inside of my mouth and take a long drink of wine, annoyed, and Aris surprises me once more by breaking the tension with a laugh.
I look up, baffled by the grin on his face. “What?” I demand.
“It’s nice to see some fight in you again,” he says with a smile, resting his cheek on his palm. “You are so indignant—I love it.”
I’m confused. Why isn’t he furious? He figured out that I’m working with someone he hates. Shouldn’t he be ripping off the skin where my sigils lay and compelling the truth from my thoughts, turning me into a shadow monster?
I am at the mercy of his moods, and I am suddenly struck by my own insignificance. I feel weary and hopeless. I now know what I’ve wondered for years, but what has it changed? The beginning of the story has given nothing to change the end.
“Can you answer me something else?”
“This is a night of truths,” he says amicably, still acting pleasant. “What is your question?”
“Well… What happens when it’s over? Say the world ends, everything’s flattened, and he doesn’t give up. What then?”
I know he’s thought about this before, but he still takes his time before replying. “My brother has a curious and sometimes sensitive nature. He will become interested in another world, eventually.”
I shift in discomfort. Another world. Will Aris follow Jaegen there, and will that world end, too? Will I be dragged along to witness its end?
I can’t bring myself to ask.
Aris reads the questions in my eyes, and my dilemma. Luckily, he does not subject me to any further honesty. “You’ve learned many truths tonight,” he says carefully.“Maybe it’s best if I let you sit on them, so you might reconsider your loyalties. ”
Aris makes a motion with his hands, and servants come toppling in, overeager to offer anything. The way that they bow their heads makes me slightly nauseous.
Were they listening? Do they know what Aris plans to do with our world? If so, how can they not care?
He will kill every human and fill the oceans with oil and tar, letting beaches turn silver from the shine of fish scales. He will flatten mountains, blacken and brown every flower until no one can remember what color meant in the first place, until there is no one left, even, to wonder what color ever was. He will drain the life from this world.
And for what?
“Clean up,” he tells them, then looks back at me, raising a brow. “You may leave now.”
I pause, then stand on unsteady legs. The room is the same, but the ground feels different, as if the fabric of reality has been shaken. I take great care in each step taken toward the exit, hands trembling at my sides—from the wine, I tell myself, not fear. Not panic.
I take my leave.
Elizabeth is right by the door and falls in step beside me as I set out for my bedroom. I’d love to sort through my thoughts alone—to break down, really, so when we get to my room, I firmly tell her, “Good night,” and shut the door in her face.
Alone, I undress myself so quickly that I forget about the stain on my sleeve. In my rush, I end up splattering it on the front of the gown, the brown juice blotting the satin like mold. A vintage, expensive piece—ruined just like that. I stare at it for a moment before crumpling the garment and tossing it into the corner of the room.
I sit in bed half-naked, a little drunk, and unsure what to do with myself. I now know about gods and the creation of the universe. The origins, the reasons for everything.
And so what?
Aris is going to end the world soon. The memory spell isn’t working. What if it doesn’t, in time?
Without it, could I even change Aris’ mind? He was created to be evil, but Jaegen was a construct of neutrality, and he killed his sister—absorbed her, whatever the proper term is. If he can change, could Aris, too?
It feels impossible to imagine, and hopeless to attempt. Aris has embraced his nature, and he is not simple in the way that he likes to hurt and ruin. He has a cruel streak; he could gush a billion brains in an instant if he wished, yet he toys with world leaders. Destroys cities one by one, allowing dread to build.
He wants to extinguish mankind, but he won’t do so outright. Because where would be the fun in that? He is decay, the slow and merciless rot. Turning man against man as they fight and cling to life. He knows how we work. Humans will do, and have done, terrible things to survive: eat a neighbor when starving, deceive to get a leg up, kill thousands to gain a foot of land.
That is Aris’ form of chaos; it is not the simple explosion of a bomb but an implosion from within.
Look at the ants scatter and scream. How interesting! How hilarious!
I settle into bed fitfully, anticipating another bad dream. Just as I thought, my dreams are chaotic and dark, and I awake to the smell of smoke. I sit up confused, thinking that I might still be in Italy somehow, but I see that I am in the mansion, in my bed, and my curtains are on fire .