thirty-six
Now that she accepted the truth of her existence, Mira went to work attempting to make sense of it all and what she was meant to do with this dual-consciousness that lurked inside of her.
For as easy as it would be to slip into merely being the Mira of this world, she didn’t want the Mira of the tainted and dead world to have Crossed for nothing.
There was nobody to tell. Even now, she struggled to make sense of where her father was or what he was doing.
He’s wanted by the Federation… and even the Yahzenian Defense Force.
He had done something illegal, and it was more imperative for Mira to keep her identity secret, lest even this hive of scum and villainy discover who her father was.
I can take on most of them if they attack me for some reason, but to what end?
Honestly, Mira would teleport back to Yahzen and hope for the best.
She thought about reaching out to Ramaron, whom she recalled in this world was still the same man doing many of the same things.
He had been a celebrated student of the Academy and later a well-respected Temple researcher, despite leaving the priesthood when his mother died and he was needed at Marlow Estate.
But would he understand what had happened to her?
She left him a message on his communicator. It was sparse and vague, and he did not call her back for a long while.
Who is the current High Priest, if not my father?
She had to look at the portrait of High Priest Doih Rimmen, with his long, silver braids, to recall the man who was a constant presence during her childhood.
Him, huh? She had heard that Doih was her father’s rival for High Priest.
It only made natural sense, she supposed.
Where do I go from here? Where is home? She could still go to her grandmother Yariah on Lerenan Estate for anything, but she no longer had her mother to act as mediator with House Dunsman.
Mira did not hurt for family funds, though.
House Dunsman kept her scion funds filled for her to draw upon for any emergency.
How did I meet Sulim? Here, on Cerilyn. She was one of many wretches caught up in a raid and brought into indentured servitude.
Mira hadn’t met her until Sulim felt more comfortable venturing beyond the fortress walls and found solace in the Temple.
In this world, Sulim never had the chance to become an intern in Yarensport—she had been here since she was seventeen.
That makes her… mid-twenties now, I think.
Sulim was the same age as when Mira left the other world.
She was alive, healthy… but changed. The Sulim that first came to this Temple was traumatized and kept to herself, but over time, she blossomed with confidence, even boldly coming on to the priestess and informing her that she had quite the crush on her.
Apparently, it had been a dare for her to confess, and doing so had thrown Mira into a bigger moral quandary than when the usual suspects asked her to rid them of their chief, Ayna Aiya.
Which Mira had done in this world because she didn’t want Sulim becoming a victim of that tyrant’s personal cruelty.
But I wasn’t caught. Sulim ensured that, hadn’t she?
Because Sulim was clever. She was nimble and made a habit of memorizing every route through every building.
She had become a master liar, manipulator, and adept at social engineering.
All things the Mira of the other world knew lurked inside her soulmate, but here on Cerilyn, they were nurtured out of necessity.
It was Sulim’s survival as a mercenary, and it made her good money now.
She might retire comfortably one day. We make plans that may or may not come true…
That was why Mira had given Sulim her zatbah-stone necklace when they declared their love for one another.
It was a symbol of Mira’s dedication to keeping Sulim by her side.
Sulim knew the truth about Mira. That she was the daughter of Nerilis Dunsman, one of the most wanted men in the universe.
“Ba…” Mira suddenly saw through her soul’s fog as she brought offerings to her mother’s statue.
One thing Mira brought from the other world was her knowledge of Joiya’s favorite foods, like overripe citrus and nut-rich sweet cakes.
She offered them now, finding it awkward to pray to her mother, but going through the motions. “What have you done?”
The man had dedicated his life, his priesthood, to serving his Ascended wife.
He had left his daughter in the hands of family so he could pursue the highest forms of esoteric research into the Old Ways, right alongside Ramaron, who had his own nervous breakdown over the ordeal.
Their relationship, their soulmateship, was strained.
Ramaron doted on Mira in this world, as he had in the other, but it was with a solemn gravity instead of as a mischievous uncle.
“Vashta…” Mira stepped back from the altar, as if her mother’s stone-faced countenance offered a displeasing look. “He didn’t!”
Yes. He had. The Mira of this world courted that reality in her heart.
Her father, the most powerful julah in the universe, was on a crusade to bring balance back to the Void—and he would do it with vashta, the ritualistic sacrifice of an entire planet to send massive amounts of spiritual energy back to the Void. The bastard.
He had been successful with non-habitable planets so far. That was why he was wanted. That was why he was on the run, and why Mira hadn’t seen him in decades.
It was why only Sulim knew who she really was, and it hadn’t been by this Mira’s choice—Sulim had figured it out, because Mercenary Sulim figured everyone out.
Void, did I help make her that way? Entirely possible, based on Mira’s own memories of a nineteen-year-old Sulim who wandered in, wondering how she was going to survive such a place.
Mira held her silver platter to her chest as she stared into her mother’s visage. Ma… what could you possibly make of that? There was no universe in which Joiya condoned what her husband had done. None!
“Oh, sorry, is this a bad time?”
Despite it being evening, Mira had left the front door unlocked—not that it ever stopped Sulim, who could pick any lock she wanted. So, there she was, coming up the aisle as if she intended to stay a while.
Mira still stared at her as if she couldn’t believe Sulim was real.
“No. It’s fine. Just thinking.” Mira relaxed her body and gestured to the statue behind her. “It’s weird worshipping your mother, you know.”
“Yeah, I try not to think about it.” Sulim leaned against the pew in the front row, keeping a respectful distance from her girlfriend’s priestly duties. “I’d rather be thinking about you.”
She said that with a long stretch of her arms, which made her black shirt slide up her flat abdomen and show off all of the toned, defined muscles that now made up her body.
The Sulim of the other world had been perfectly gorgeous in her own soft way, but this Sulim?
With her mercenary body, devil-may-care attitude, and a haircut short enough for Mira to see her ears?
I barely recognize her, yet she’s the only Sulim I’ve ever known.
The other Sulim would reach her hand up a mare’s vagina to help it give birth, but this one had been covered in human blood before and lived to tell the tale. That’s a dark thought, even for me.
Either way, this one was a bigger flirt than Mira.
“Sorry.” Mira kept apologizing as she put her offering platter away and washed her hands in a nearby basin. “It’s been a crazy week. Don’t suppose you’re going off anywhere soon?”
Sulim scoffed, sliding down into the pew so her legs dangled over the side.
Her leg-hugging pants tapered off into black boots that she had custom-made by a leather worker using her own mercenary earnings.
It was either that or use the fortress-commissioned uniform, which she claimed was “Awful.”
“No. I hope not. I could really use a break, but the we in this situation always wants more money and to run away from our problems.”
Mira couldn’t quite remember who we was, because it didn’t include her.
“But, yeah, you’ve been acting a bit squirrely lately. Like something’s spooked you.”
Unburdened, Mira loomed over her girlfriend, who raised her eyebrows in intrigue. “Just a lot of information coming my way. There are… forces afoot. I’ll tell you more when I know.”
“Mm? Is that your way of saying I shouldn’t get involved?”
“Knowing you, you’d start interrogating me in that very manipulative way that makes me say things without realizing it.”
“Babe, that’s just sex.”
Mira was slightly taken aback, if only because half of her was still adjusting to this kind of Sulim.
The one she would have become in the other world…
if we had been together that long. Well, wasn’t it enticing, though?
This woman, with her irresistible body, playful flirtations, and willingness to “try anything once” when they made it to Mira’s small apartment upstairs?
This was the woman that made the local sorceress fine-tune her wards so nobody would interrupt them for an hour.
Even if it was just to talk about themselves and what they wanted out of life.
“Speaking of!” Sulim shot both arms into the air, one hand catching the back of the pew while the other almost grazed Mira’s face. “Guess what I’m here for?”
“I haven’t finished my chores yet.”
“I can wait.”
“Like I can?”
Mira descended upon her, kissing that face and holding that body close until she felt that zatbah stone against her, as if she still couldn’t believe that this was real, that Sulim was “back,” and none of that awful, nightmarish shit actually happened.
It did. I saw it. Mira banished those memories like Joiya had banished Rahara from her dreams.
There was only now. Only the present. Only this.
Only the constant battle between two Miras who both wanted to settle into one life and do what had to be done.
I’ll take her right here in a goddamn pew if it convinces me that it’s real.
The groaning wood beneath their combined weight drowned out the creaking of the Temple door.
As Mira kissed the woman she loved, testing the tightness of her clothes and wondering how far they could get so out in the open like this, she ignored the little voice in her head saying that someone else was there.
“Ah, finally, I now know your weakness.”