Chapter 12
Rosomon
Faolán opens the limo’s door, and the building outside is even more astounding than the car that brought us.
At first glance, it seems similar to every other building in this city—except much taller.
But the structure seems alive, as if it’s not comprised of steel but living vines that stretch up toward the sky.
As I look, the building seems to be moving, almost like it’s breathing.
Faolán ushers us inside, and I gasp as I take in the vast atrium.
If I didn’t know I was in a structure—in a city—I would once again swear I was in a forest. Birds fly above, and my attention is drawn to a bright yellow butterfly flying over a nearby bed of flowers. It lands on a vibrant purple petal.
“Are these trees real?” I ask Faolán, looking up again. Some branches are piercing through what must be the floor of the level above us, and more tree roots snake through the high ceiling amongst the leaves and moss there.
“They’re very real,” Faolán responds. “Some of our forest friends agreed to reside here and assist in this building’s construction. It helps make us feel comfortable in the city.”
He says this as if it’s all I need to know to understand what I’m seeing.
As if I should be able to comprehend how plants and animals, even water, could consent to help construct a tall building.
I don’t need to know how this place works, or how elves create their surroundings, but my curiosity to learn urges me to ask more questions.
But sensing that Faolán shared all he cares to, I keep my lips shut, my hand firmly inside Zogar’s, as I drink in every beautiful detail.
Faolán leads us toward elevator doors made of silver, intricately cast with scenes of elven culture and inlaid with gems. Over the few moments we wait for the doors to open, I swear the surface of the doors’ change, as if the figures depicted are moving.
But the changes are so subtle I’m unsure what I saw.
We enter the elevator cab, and once again, it’s like being inside a forest. The only part of this elevator that matches the style of this city is the metal panel of buttons.
Technology. That’s the word I’ve heard to describe the mechanical things that seem to me like magic.
The panel’s numbers go from forty to sixty-seven, and Faolán presses the button for sixty-seven.
Does that mean we’re going all the way to the top?
The elevator moves, and my stomach drops as if my skin moved faster than my insides.
After the initial jolt, I feel normal for a few seconds, but then my ears pop, as if they were blocked by consumption.
I shift my jaw to clear them, and then the cab’s floor rises up, shrinking my legs for a second as it slows.
This isn’t my first ride in an elevator, but it’s the first one that’s gone up so high, and so quickly.
The doors slide open, and Zogar tightens his grip on my hand as we exit. The space we enter is once again unlike anything I’ve seen. It’s as if nature and technology have merged together to create this space.
Elegantly arched metal shapes twine with vines to create the illusion of leaves growing out of metal. And every piece of furniture appears to be formed from plants—living plants—cleverly combined with metal and covered in cushions. Some cushions are covered in moss, others in soft fabrics.
But what really steals my breath is the view.
“Would you like to look more closely?” Eldrath’s voice drifts into my awareness, even though I’ve not yet seen him.
He steps from behind a waterfall that cascades from at least forty feet above us, almost as if it’s falling from the sky. The ceiling above us is clear, likely glass, and I can’t imagine what the source of the water might be. I have so many questions I can’t voice any single one.
“Do you mean the view?” Zogar asks in my stead.
“Yes,” Eldrath says.
“I’d like to take a closer look at everything.” My chest and mind are overflowing with wonder.
Eldrath smiles. “Come.” His tall, elegant frame crosses the room toward a window so expansive I can’t begin to imagine how such a large piece of glass was created.
The glaziers in the City of Darkness must have talents far exceeding those in the Light.
The window’s so clear, my nerves rise as I approach it, my mind not trusting that it’s actually there.
Zogar solidifies his hold on my hand, as if he too fears falling. Zogar can fly, but I don’t think he can shift forms midair.
Eldrath stops in front of the wall of windows, comprised of very large sections of glass, so artfully joined that any seams between panes aren’t visible.
What a view. From up here, it’s like we can see the entire city sparkling below.
The cars seem like miniature models, and the streets in the distance appear like red and white streaks of light, depending on the traffic’s direction.
Beyond the city, the shadowed woods and mountains remind me that not everything on this side of the shield is artificial.
“Look through here.” Eldrath directs us to the right, and then points to circles in the glass, one roughly at Zogar’s height and one closer to mine. “This viewing spot is for children,” he tells me, “but its height should work for you.”
I smile, not in the least insulted. Elves are very tall—at least the only ones I’ve met—so I’m not shocked that I’m a similar height to their offspring.
Looking through the circular section of glass, even given the distance and the dim reddish light, the forests come into full focus. A breeze blows through the treetops, rabbits hop through the underbrush, and I spot a deer grazing on tiny plants. “It’s beautiful.”
“Thank you,” Eldrath says. “While we’re in the city, it’s important for elves to see our true home. It helps us survive the urban chaos.”
“Why not just live there?” Zogar asks. “As you once did.”
“Many elves still do live in the forest,” Eldrath answers, “as do many Fae. But as Elven Overlord I often have business in the capital city, and many of our kind have grown to enjoy the conveniences of cities, so long as we can keep in touch with our true home.” He nods toward the window and the wilderness far in the distance.
“I don’t understand how or why this world is so different from my own.” I transfer my focus back to the city. “Zogar tells me that none of what I’ve seen here is magic.”
“That’s correct,” Eldrath says. “That is, nothing in this city is an illusion. But many of the things you’ve seen—my home for example—could never be made by humans.”
I nod, even though I don’t understand.
“You’re perplexed.” Eldrath smiles.
Zogar slides his arm possessively around my waist.
“I suppose I am,” I reply. “I don’t expect to understand how everything works here, but I can’t even conceive the core of it.”
“What do you mean?” Eldrath tips his head to the side. “Do you mean how the plants and water have helped to construct my elven home?”
I draw a deep breath. “Not just that. I mean everything here in the city.” I look out again, overtaken by the lights, the tall buildings, the rushing traffic.
“While science progressed here,” Zogar interjects, turning to Eldrath.
“Much stayed the same in the Kingdoms of Light. Very little there changed in the four hundred years since the Separation.” He frowns.
“In terms of inventions and conveniences, life there is much as it was before. But other things there changed.”
“That is most interesting.” Eldrath nods.
“Yes.” I’m glad we share this curiosity. It’s nice to find something in common with this elven lord. “It’s as if all progress stopped in the Kingdoms of Light. Whereas here—” I gesture toward the window.
Eldrath draws a deep breath, nodding. “Perhaps something in the Light stifled scientific progress.”
“Fucking Othrix,” Zogar mutters.
“Who is Othrix?” Eldrath asks.
“The humans’ deity.”
“Oh.” Eldrath nods, as if he just had a revelation. But instead of sharing it, he gestures for us to follow him toward a grouping of chairs. He indicates that Zogar should sit in one that seems to be formed from a combination of byrch tree branches and smoothly curved metal.
Zogar sits, and the chair visibly adjusts to his proportions and weight. Still holding my hand, Zogar pulls me toward him, clearly expecting me to sit on his lap.
“I believe Queen Rosomon would be comfortable here.” Eldrath directs me toward an astonishing looking chair. The seat is clearly the top of a very large mushroom, and its back and arms are formed from branches covered in moss.
Smiling reassurance at Zogar, I pull my hand from his and sit in the mushroom chair. As I alight, it adjusts to my height and curves around my body. “This is the most comfortable chair I’ve ever sat upon!”
Eldrath smiles and takes a seat. Like Zogar’s, Eldrath’s chair is formed from a mix of live tree branches and metal, but the metal in his chair is gold and adorned with gems, and it requires no adjustments, fitting him to perfection.
“I have another question.” I look between Zogar and Eldrath and they both nod.
“If time moves more quickly in the Light, how has four hundred years passed in both places?”
Eldrath chuckles. “Another astute question. Lymbo complicates relativity.”
“What’s relativity?” I ask.
“In the simplest of terms, relativity defines how things relate to each other, including time.” Eldrath glances toward Zogar, who nods.
“The separation of the Darkness and the Light was done using magic, not science,” Zogar says. “And Lymbo adds a complexity, so the relationships aren’t strictly linear between the Darkness and the Light.”
I nod. “So, how will we know how much time has passed in the Light while we’re here?” I worry again about Saxon and Tynan.
“We won’t know for certain until we return,” Zogar says. “But our passage through Lymbo should stabilize the relationship.”
“So, one day here will be one moon cycle—one month—there?”