The Arcane Messenger
Page 11
She didn’t know what was happening. Everything she saw was much bigger than she had imagined and she didn’t understand the relevance of it all.
She saw stars, in the glint of light, burn out and galaxies collapse. The blight that started as a crack kept growing until it touched every sphere, causing them to break into pieces. Darkness, it seemed, was winning. All in the glint, though. The spheres in the distance remained intact.
In the final scene there was one tiny sphere with light burning on its edge. It was followed by a thick black shadow and opened the scene to two large dragons. One white and one black. They engaged in a clash of titans, snapping one at the other. The white one breathed bright and intense rays of silver-white, which the black one evaded by melding with the dark.
After melding, it opened its mouth, revealing several rows of teeth and struck the white one’s neck in a moment of surprise. There was a terrible roar and a vicious yank. The victor was clear. The white fell from view and the black turned to face its one-woman audience.
There was something uncanny in its eyes. They shone an emerald green – the same green she saw shimmer back in the pitch-black room. The dragon, however, had slit pupils – not round.
“It doesn’t have to end the way it did last time,” returned the ruffling voice in the blackened room. It gave her a fright. “If, this time, you listen.”
The premonition was over. She was left in one place, alone with him. “How can I trust you? I still don’t know who you are. You haven’t answered any of my questions.”
“You still don’t recognise me? Try to remember, mother.”
“What did you just call me?”
No answer. He was purposefully avoiding her questions. She called for him again and again, to no avail. She was frustrated.
When she eventually gave up, believing he was gone, she turned and leaned against the tomb bearing Oliver’s name. The purple gleam returned; as did the teal from her tattoo. It did that whenever a light of some other kind was activated. The tattoo thing, that is. “Are you an Alversia, Oliver?” she whispered. Not that she recalled what an Alversia was. Her head and shoulders pressed against the tomb. “Did I see what’s supposed to happen?”
The ephemeral image from before stepped into her mind, of her strapped to a chair in the chamber. Her hopeless words from her vision repeated, “There is no other way. I have to do this.”
“I should have listened, Rex.” She hoped I could hear. “I want so much for there to be another way.”
She then called out Robert’s name and apologised.
After some time against the tomb, quite a while longer than any of the others, she heard and felt a stone door scrape open. A shaft-like corridor gaped below the amethyst glow, giving light of its own in the form of purple traces – like the erratic copper tracks found on a circuit board.
This was it. She looked behind herself and called for Robert one last time. She didn’t want go in without him. But there was no answer.
“Please be okay,” she whispered, then climbed in and began crawling forward.
CHAPTER TEN
ALVERSIA
She followed the purple traced tunnel, one hand in front of the other, with her knees following awkwardly behind. She couldn’t see where it led, like she did with the labyrinth, even though she tried. She couldn’t see any turns or changes in the scene before her. It was seemingly endless black and purple as far as her eyes could see.
Then, her right hand came to where it should have stopped, meeting a terrible space—a gap—a drop—pulling her whole body forward, down a seemingly endless ditch. Her heart sounded pit-a-pat, pit-a-pat, louder and louder in her ears, and a whooshing sound accompanied from the passing air. She panicked.
Fortunately, the cavity through which she fell was wider than the corridor through which she crawled. She did not hit any side or wall. Unfortunately, the purple light along the traces did not follow down the cataclysmic hole. She was falling, head first, and without any light to see the bottom.
She closed her eyes, hoping desperately it wasn’t the end, and saw the boy from her dream – falling. She cringed at the site of his body hitting the ground and felt, almost simultaneously, a heavy pulse push against her – upwards. And another one. Her fall decelerated.
She opened her eyes and noted several layers of a purple light moving upwards, fading as it passed her. She came to a stop just above a distinguished mark on the ground, where the light appeared brightest. She was hovering in mid-air, about a metre above the mark. With her body positioned as if she were swimming, she gave a sigh of relief, followed by a pant.
She noticed an opening to her side, revealing a room of black marble. It reflected glimmers of the purple light, allowing her to see an elegant black coffin in the distance. She swam to it but, after a few strokes, fell flat on her belly.
“Ouch!” she bellowed. Her voice echoed through the room, which happened to be higher than it was wide. She stood up and dusted herself off. Not that there was anything to dust off. The room was pristine. The room was Oliver, from the purple traces to the antigravity; from the black marble to the clean look. She recognised it and saw his face flash before her eyes.
She approached the tomb, whose head rested against the wall, and noted the spotted and scratched-through infinity symbol imprinted on its heart – as if by a laser. She looked up and found, on the wall, an engraving of a spotted feather – just like in her dream. She was in the right place, she thought. She was getting closer and closer to where she felt she needed to be.
She looked around and noted two doors to her right, both of which had lasered inscriptions above them, neither of which had handles to open. She touched the coffin, remembering how the trapdoor and tomb had been opened, and the symbol on its heart lit up, purple.
The outlines of two pads formed, one on each door, where she walked over. She had to choose, left or right. She read the inscriptions, which were strange characters on her right and Alversia on her left, and chose the one she could read.
She placed her left hand on the left pad and saw a bright purple light cut a small opening into the lower portion of the door. She kneeled down and entered the cramped corridor, feeling uneasy as she did – as if everything around her had shifted.
There were traces along the edges, like the ones in the previous passageway, and a shaft as well. This one she saw. And, while she wasn’t certain if she could trust it having the same outcome as the one before, she took the risk.
Flashes of the boy passed through her mind and she felt an even greater sense of urgency than before. She was certain that this was where her answers would be found.
The traces, as expected, did not follow her fall. It grew dark around her and she was just as petrified as before. Though her hope was stronger, she feared even more that she might be wrong. She felt herself falling faster and heard her heart beat even louder.
This drop was longer. But, assuredly, a pulse shot through. And another one. Multiple layers of purple light moved upwards and faded above her. Each successive pulse slowed her fall and she came to a halt above a similar scene.
There was a mark below her and an opening to a black marble room. However, there were a lot more etchings on the walls and there was no coffin in view.
She stood upright in the air and calculated a way to step down, without having her body meet the floor. There was a lot of back and forth until she, finally, hurled herself forward. The plan was well thought through, but she fell over anyway.
She rubbed her right forearm as she got up, believing she may have bruised it. If anyone else was there, she might’ve said, “Someone better look into finding a better way down from there.” But there wasn’t. She was alone.
She scanned the room, intently, finding a cascade of images scored against the walls and two doors on the other side of the room, seemingly the same as the ones before. She felt a stutter, of all her senses, as she moved closer to the largest image. It tugged her back and forth, between wh
ere and when she was and what felt like the same place in another time.
She saw people around her, but she wasn’t there with them. It was the people she recognised from the statues upstairs, so she listened as they argued. Though, they weren’t speaking English, this time.
She saw the one Robert claimed to look like her contend quite strongly, standing in front of the large image – a trisected circle with words and figures. “They need to see this,” said the woman, in English, amongst the many other words she spoke in her unknown tongue.
The one who looked to be a priestly general, according to Robert’s description, shot back in their vernacular. There was, clearly, a heated disagreement. Then the premonition ended.
This was where their knowledge went – the same knowledge that surpassed anything the institute could ever uncover. The Mai, or more specifically, these Mai somehow knew of things to come and this was their way of warning us.
Above the image, in sizeable font, hung the word Alversia. It drew her in even closer. It did not matter that she had no memory of what the institute taught us. In fact, it was better, because what she learnt there was more than the institute ever uncovered.
The image—the trisected circle—told the story of three parts… three pieces of an Alversia. The first portion, the largest, was to the right of the circle. It had the word Myentron inscribed at its circumference with a sigil outlining the side of a face.
The second, only a tad smaller, was to the left. It had the word Alversia with a symbol mirroring the sigil in the Myentron portion. It appeared as if these outlined faces were watching each other through an opening in the line that separated them.
The third, and smallest, portion made its mark below the other two. It had the word Nacloren hovering just above its base, an abstract figure and three ascending stripes on either end.
Her hand reached out and touched the segment on the right, actuating a teal glow from the Myentron segment alone. The line that looked to be a face changed its shape into a detailed and familiar figure; a woman that looked like her, only older.
Next to the figure appeared the words Aht—the name—her name… along with the words Unnamed Universe and Earth in teal. It triggered a memory for her to gaze upon; a memory from back home.
She was with me, Luna, Oliver and Seth. We were gathered together in a circle, discussing the institute. “It’ll be interesting to see what they have to offer,” said Oliver. “But I’m still sceptical about their whole crossing universes theory.” He and I argued about what to call them on a number of occasions. He said universes. I said, and still say, verses.
“I’m not too bothered, to be honest,” she heard me say. “Seeing some other person in the mirror, Alversia or not, is the least of my concerns.” I looked up and stared at what appeared to be nothing. At least, to them.
“Rex,” said Oliver, rather sternly. He hit my shoulder. “Stop it.”
“Well, what if they’re right?” Luna stepped in, rerouting the pessimistic course of our conversation. “What if we can help?”
“I agree,” said Seth. He brought the right amount of sunshine into every social exchange. “It’ll be fun. Look at it this way: How many people get to say they help keep the multiverse in order? How many people get to say they go to a school designed for extraordinary teenagers?”
“And adults,” said Oliver, unmoved by Seth’s attempted pep talk.
“And I’m sure I saw a child there as well,” I said, not helping matters.
Seth became visibly frustrated. His cheerful expression turned sour. “That’s beside the point,” he said. “Child, teenager, adult. Where else does such an opportunity arise?”
Oliver rolled his eyes, which was his typical disapproving response. I remained nonchalant and Luna… she called out her name.
It still tugs at my heart.
“What do you think?” asked Luna, having her attention. The two of them were as thick as thieves. Luna always placed her opinion above anyone else’s.
That’s where the vision—well, memory—ended. She took a moment to think and realised – only then – that it was her name Luna had called out.
She whispered it, her name, alone in the room. She was still trying to piece it together, as if the confirmed recollection was at the tip of her tongue. “I think I remember,” she said.
As she made this realisation, aided by the vision of us, she saw the right portion of the Nacloren segment light up. The abstract figure lit partially and formed (just barely) the side of a modest crown.
She pulled her hand away from the image, allowing it to revert to its original form. Her eyes turned to the Alversia segment and an image popped into her mind, of her looking into a mirror, back home, and seeing someone else.
It became clear to her that the three pieces were somehow related. Especially the Alversia and the Myentron. She recalled Robert speaking about his reflection and how it looked like me. She pieced together, under her breath, “Robert must be Rex’s Alversia.”
The figure’s words then played on her mind, telling her ‘to find the Alversia’ and that ‘Robert and the other Alversia need to die.’
“But why do they have to die?” She turned away from the image, overcome with emotion.
“We are Nacloren!” she heard, right beside her. The words sunk deep. It was the woman she saw at the image, proudly wrapping up her message.
“Then Rex must be a Myentron,” muttered Aht—I still can’t bring myself to say her name. “Am I a Myentron?” she questioned. “And what’s the difference anyway? Why does it matter?” She wrestled with these thoughts.
A moment passed and she heard the woman from her vision speak again, both in English and her foreign tongue.
“The Arcane Messenger will know,” said the woman, seeming to answer a question. “She’ll see the future, and she’ll have a message to deliver.”
She then dragged her hand over the wall, onto an area marked with tightly packed spheres – one on top of the other. It reminded her of what she saw in her vision at the glint of light.
Above these etchings, she saw a giant dome, positioned as if it was watching over the spheres. It triggered a rush of images, of the many worlds and scenes of war. Something, she felt, was coming.
“Rex!” she called, as if by instinct. “What’s happening?”
She made note of the other images engraved on the walls; archways, sceptres, birds that looked like guineafowls (some that definitely were) and a gyroscope. She felt as if she recognised them, but couldn’t quite place wherefrom.
She turned to the doors, which had no pads or openings; only engravings above each. The one to the left read Alpha Irrilium Prime while the other was inscribed with the same peculiar characters as the room before.
‘Where to next?’ she must have thought, looking at and touching everything in sight. But nothing happened. Nothing lit up and the doors remained shut. She started to feel trapped.
After what felt like hours, she slammed her fists against the doors. Her cheeks turned red and tears began to flow, again. “I can’t do this,” she cried. “I don’t… I don’t want to.”
She sat for a while, then searched the room again. “I’m missing something,” she muttered. I’m not sure if it was to herself or in hopes that I’d hear. “You don’t build a place like this without someplace to go—without some answers to find.”
She backed herself against the wall and took one final look around the room. “Help me,” she called. Her plea was in no particular direction, but she hoped an answer would come. Perhaps a vision to show her the way.
And, it came. It took a moment, but it came. Her mind went back in time and saw the priestly general – one of the Nacloren. He was alone, pacing the room. He threw his hands in the air a couple of times and ranted with words she heard as nonsensical. His objective wasn’t clear, but she kept her eyes on him anyway.
Something about him reminded her of Oliver. Well, of what she had seen of Oliver in her visions.
He muttered something along the lines of, “Gaitas helionta,” and pointed at the door marked Alpha Irrilium Prime. He crouched to place two of his right fingers on the ground and drew a small circle, just large enough for the ring to fit. It was her way out. He left it there.
I still wonder if the Nacloren knew it was her who would find it or if he knew that it was Oliver who would eventually keep it. Whatever the case, it helped us. It helped us immensely.
She knelt down and found it lodged in the tiny crevice, just big enough for one of her fingers to lift it out – after the second or third attempt.
She took the ring, put it on her right ring finger and marched to the door that read Alpha Irrilium Prime. With the ring on, her touch was able to open the door. But it was different to the last opening. This time, the door turned white – like pure energy.
She stepped through it, with a sickening sensation. Her head spun, her skin tingled and her ears rang while her eyes saw nothing but white – bright, bright white. And she was hot.
She stumbled a few steps forward and tripped, scraping her knee and elbow on what felt like concrete. The breaths she took were deeper, requiring more than she was used to just to stay conscious.
“Hello?” she called.
Then, past the white orbs clouding her vision, she saw glazed metallic skyscrapers in the distance. Lots of them. All beneath the rays of two brilliantly blue suns, overlapping.
She was closer to where she felt she needed to be. A lot closer.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
WHISPERS
I’m lying on the floor, curled up, with my sleeves down. It’s cold and I’m feeling numb. My tears have stopped and dried, and I’m still trying to wrap my head around everything.