Chapter 71 #3
Rage surged. “Necessary?” Elliott spat. “You don’t test loyalty by breaking it!”
“Sometimes survival demands it,” she said simply. “You now have the tools to accomplish your task.”
He ran a hand through his hair, pacing in frustration.
The silence following his outburst rang in his ears until shame dulled the fire.
He sounded like a fool. A desperate, angry fool shouting at ghosts.
He stopped, blinked, and exhaled slowly.
“What tools, then?” he demanded. “Ye claim we have tools. What are they?”
“If you have to ask,” she said, “we’ve failed.”
His hands dropped uselessly to his sides. Then came a broken laugh—hollow, raw. “That’s almost poetic. Almost.”
Vivica just watched him, steady as a stone.
When he spoke again, his tone softened. “When Meredith came into my life, I learned to see more than logic. I gained compassion, patience, and purpose. Maybe those are the tools.”
Her head tilted in quiet approval. “If your heart tells you so, they are.”
He nodded once. The sting behind his eyes felt unfamiliar, almost boyish. “They were hard-won,” he said.
“They were earned,” she said.
The tension in his shoulders loosened slightly. He looked at her for a long moment, then asked, “Did ye have any part in choosing my parents?”
She answered quickly. “No. If we’d interfered, we’d have chosen better.”
That surprised a short laugh out of him. “I’ll drink to that.”
The faintest hint of humor flickered.
He gathered himself again. “Erik—what’s his role now?”
Vivica hesitated. “He has no role. He’s chosen rest.”
That hit deeper than expected. Rest. It sounded like a euphemism for death, and the thought hollowed him. “That doesn’t sound like Erik,” he said.
“Even warriors need rest,” she replied.
He pressed his lips together, fighting the ache that built in his chest. He turned away again, hiding his eyes. When he looked back, his voice was soft. “If it’s possible… let him come back. I’ve lost one of the best damn friends I ever had.”
Vivica’s tone gentled to near affection. “Your relationship was not part of our plan, but it pleased us. If Asbjorn wills it, he may return to you. Once he leaves us, though, he can never come back.”
Elliott’s breath caught. A weight lifted, but another fell just as heavily. He managed, “Thank ye.” The word was hoarse, trembling around the edges.
“Is there more, Dr. Fraser?”
He hesitated, the fog of uncertainty curling around him again. “Ye said before ye weren’t human. Was that true?”
Vivica’s pale gaze held his. “We are human—altered through the millennia out of necessity.”
He drew a shaky breath and nodded. “Good,” he said quietly. “Because I’ve had enough aliens for one lifetime.”
A fleeting smile crossed her lips.
He cleared his throat. “Ofello’s stopped responding. Can we have her back?”
“She may speak to you—only about your past and present. Not the future.”
He nodded. “Fair enough.”
“Then hear me, Keeper,” she said, voice rising gently through the space. “I will not intervene again. You and yours will guide your world from here. Trust your circle. Trust yourself.”
A bitter half-smile tugged at his expression. “Ye make it sound like a test.”
“It always was. Now, this is your last chance. Do you have any more questions?”
He hesitated. “Yes.”
Vivica waited.
“Clay had a vision—a tunnel that smelled of whisky and rats. Ye and Archibald were ahead of him. He couldn’t catch up. Did anything like that ever happen?”
“No,” she said simply. “But never ignore Barclay’s visions. Symbols shift, and people stand in for others.”
He nodded faintly. One final thought bubbled up. “Erik offered Bastien LeBlanc a new leg. Does that offer still stand?”
“If Bastien calls, we will answer.”
“And how would he reach ye?”
“The same way you did,” she replied, tone soft as a smile. “Sometimes even stones can speak.”
That actually drew a small laugh from him. “Then I’ll tell him to find a good stone.”
Vivica’s eyes shimmered with faint light. “Go now, Dr. Fraser. Carry what you’ve seen with clarity. Walk your path with courage.”
Before he could respond, a light expanded outward.
Sound disappeared. Then came the wind again—gentler this time, swirling him back through the mist until the world snapped into stillness.
His knees trembled when he found solid footing again.
The beam of his headlamp flickered weakly against the walls.
He touched it instinctively, heart still racing.
He steadied himself against the stone. Everything around him felt ordinary—the chill air, the smell of dust, the faint ache in his chest. And yet, everything had changed.
He pushed on the door, and it opened easily.
David, Braham, and Meredith stood waiting in the tunnel, worry etched in every line of their faces.
“What happened?” David asked. “The door shut. We couldn’t get in.”
Elliott blinked hard. The world around him felt too slow, his body too heavy. “How long was it closed?”
“Half a minute, maybe less.”
Elliott dragged a tired hand down his face. “It felt like hours.”
Meredith reached for his arm. “Are you okay?”
He nodded once, avoiding her searching eyes. “Let’s go back to the plantation.”
They started up the tunnel, boots tapping softly against stone. Every step felt deliberate, as though the earth were testing him. Do you remember what you’ve seen? Do you still choose to bear it? He didn’t answer the question, not even in his own mind.
By the time they emerged into daylight, he stopped at the window, staring at the castle’s silent towers rising through the mist. Whatever he’d experienced down there, whatever truths or deceptions the light had shown him—it had marked him.
And Elliott Fraser, for all his years of leading others into the unknown, finally understood what true uncertainty felt like.