forty-eight #3
It was like she could obliterate them with her sorcery without a shred of guilt.
Yet I would feel guilty, because what a waste.
“Tell me. Please.”
“Mira…” The cane tapped to the beat of Ramaron’s heavy, warning-filled breaths. “There are no answers there for you to glean.”
“What did he do to you?” Mira looked right at him, daring the older man to fight her. “The man he supposedly loves?”
They locked into a silent battle, Mira determined to wear Ramaron down until he capitulated.
When he did, it was with a tired sigh that sank him into the chair.
His eyes glazed over, much like Yariah’s had, as he gazed into the past and contemplated his own existence.
Soon, Mira would also be old enough to adopt the same look when seeing the years behind her.
“Your father was very unwell during the end of his tenure.” Ramaron didn’t mention the while High Priest part. It was implied. “While you were in the Academy, I believe. He sank into a deep depression that eventually led to him being feverish, sickly, and… ultimately, delusional.”
“I vaguely recall something happening.” Mira knew about the illnesses, since she often received updates on her father’s health from the Premiers.
I was one of the only ones allowed behind the propaganda machine.
According to the Temple, if it wasn’t a simple flu, then the High Priest was taking care of important matters.
Matters so important that he couldn’t give his weekly sermons, never mind attend festivals or go on tour through the Federation.
Humans need simple assurance that those in charge are well.
Julah, on the other hand, were trained to not ask too many questions. “What kind of delusions?”
“It was when he first got vashta in his head. Your mother had communicated to him that the Void was unstable and needed more energy. Specifically, the energy that a soul releases when somebody dies. That’s his whole thing.
That’s why he’s targeting this planet after perfecting vashta on uninhabited rocks. It’s that energy that currently keeps the Void intact and allows the rest of us mortals to… well, exist. Well, eventually,
your father got so delusional that he thought that his death would not only release him from his grief over your mother, but would perform the ultimate energy burst to sustain the Void for a few thousand more years.”
“He… tried to…?”
“He jumped off his balcony. I don’t have to tell you how fatal that landing would be.”
No, he didn’t. The High Priest’s apartment was at the top of the High Temple, which was over 150 feet if Mira recalled correctly. Absolutely fatal. As fatal as Hannu going up against him.
“How did that hurt you?”
“Well, funny thing about that. Even though I was at home, I knew something was wrong. I got there in time to see him jump. There was only one thing I could do to save him.”
Mira attempted to think it through, but with so much on her mind, her imagination dulled.
“I teleported out to where he would land and attempted to slow him down with my own sorcery. I kept him from killing either of us, but he landed on me. Broke my hip in multiple places. Janush tried putting me back together,
but was the first to say that I would probably have some limited mobility and pain for the rest of my life.”
He chuckled. “Even we julah are susceptible to being mortal, despite the best healing magic in the universe.”
Mira sucked in her bottom lip and shook her head. “Did he know what happened?”
“Only afterward, while I convalesced. He apologized. I accepted it. It’s what I do.”
Mira opened her mouth.
“Don’t take me for a doormat, Mira, although I suppose I am one.”
Ramaron’s voice softened, and when Mira truly studied him, she realized that the man she called uncle had truly seen more shit in his whole life than she had in the past few weeks.
“Your father and I have danced this macabre duet for thousands of years now. When I was young, it broke my heart knowing that I would never be his one and only, if only because of how our society treats us hashka. And it wasn’t like I didn’t understand his attraction to your mother.
She was otherworldly for a reason. She felt terrible for stealing him from me.”
He said it with a smile, but all it did was make Mira remember something that Rahara said. “She stole him from me…”
A macabre duet danced over thousands… maybe millions of years…
“You recently told me that the ‘me’ of the other reality said he was born to protect your mother, and you… yes, that is something I would say. I’ve long accepted my role in this world. I cannot hold your father’s actions against him. Not when it comes to my love and loyalty.
I may not agree with his methods, and I may have refused to help him, but I will always put my life on the line if it means protecting you three.”
“Because you’re of the Blue Line.”
Ramaron perked up. “Hm?”
“My mother. She gave me the gift of ley line sight for a single moment when I became chief. Maybe you don’t remember it, but I saw you all—I saw the line connected to every mortal in that room. You were Blue. Sulim was Yellow. I am Red.
The three of us will make a formidable pyramid at the End of All Things.”
“Blue, huh? Even your mother did not tell me this.”
“I don’t think mortals are supposed to see it. Maybe she could have if she lived long enough, like my mother of the other reality. She became more attuned with the Void as she grew older. So, maybe she knew…”
“Maybe.”
“The Blue Line is associated with mortality more than anything else. The order of being alive. The benediction of being alive, even.”
“Suppose so.”
“Yes. So it stands to reason that you are willing to protect life at all costs. That you would go against my father, of the Yellow Line. He will pursue whatever means necessary to quell spiritual matters. He is above mortality.”
“That is an interesting theory. Tell me, if you are one of the very few of the Red Line… what does that make you?”
Mira sat with that question as she closed her eyes and envisioned what awaited her at the end of the day. “An anomaly. I was never meant to exist.”
“For what it’s worth…” Ramaron set aside his cane, uncrossed his legs, and leaned forward. “I’m quite glad you exist.”
Mira wanted to thank him, but all she could think of was the other Miras across countless realities.
Even the ones not named Mira. She remembered the one her father showed her—the hybrid who was the natural chief of this tribe, who was more human than julah in every way, and who had the powerful eyes of someone who knew blood, violence, lust, and every combination in between.
That is supposedly the real me. The one from the most influential reality holding everything together.
The first reality to be borne from the Void.
If that one goes down, we all do.
But in a way, that was reassuring. It meant that Mira didn’t have to save this reality to save them all.
If she failed, then only the people of this world returned to the Void, much like the one she Crossed from.
All I have to care about is her. She flicked her fingers together, seemingly contemplating how to evacuate an entire planet, but in reality…
how do I save the two of us if I can’t save anyone else?
Mira had been given another chance at achieving her mother’s dreams for her. To not only have a soulmate, but to live out her life with the one chosen for her.
In every reality… in every world… it’s her and me against all odds.
Mira came back to that thought. Every. Single. Time.
You won’t stop us, Father. She slowly rose from her chair and turned toward the windows, taking in the jungle canopy, the crystal clear sky, and a bird swooping across the view. Even if we can’t save this place, we will save each other.
Her mother must have believed it, too. Otherwise, why were they given this chance?