by Olivia Ali
Halfway up the hill, the light recedes and is nowhere to be seen. Slightly dismayed, I continue my climb - perhaps it would return and even if it didn't it would be useless to return to a world I no longer belonged to. As I climb higher my feet begin to stumble and something glitters in the dead grass as my footing fails. It is a chain I realise as I pick it up and scrape away the dirt from the medallion that hangs around it. The surface itself is bronze and engraved into it in immense detail is a dove holding a single key. As I scrape away the last of the grime, light begins to reflect off it creating a rainbow effect for my eyes. I look up to the top of the hill and realise that the light has returned and pocketing the medallion I finish my ascent. Once I reach the top the light fades again and instead around me are scattered memories left for me to see. I stare into the glistening vortexes as faces of people flash in between them, people I knew, people from down here. One in particular catches my eye, enchanting it for a moment. I take a few paces closer staring into the face of you dear brother. The face I see before me though lingers in the residue; the face of a man lost in a world he does not know. These abandoned memories are yours dear brother and they are my memories too for the most part. In another is the face of my foe and fear surrounds my heart at the sight of him. And as my eyes gaze upon the rest, I too remember - every loss and very lie that was ever told to us. I was so quick to defend him at first. He was our friend and our brother and he would never betray us so.
I remember every regret and each goodbye, every mistake that was made along the way. I could see it all around me now. And as I stand here now, I hear his voice reach me once more, shouting out in pain and vengeance at the hand dealt to him by the almighty. The shout rings out my name and suddenly I realise that I am no longer alone. The light appeared once more as I rose to my feet, bathing me in its brilliance. The Faders cries broke the peace around me and the memories scattered a little further. But the light grew stronger, highlighting the Final Wishes of my dear brother and although it welcomed me with open arms, I could not leave without them for they were why I was here.
Clutching the medallion in my hand once more, I felt something hit my foot and I looked down to see a memory lying beside me. As I gazed upon its vision, my grasp on the medallion tightened, drawing blood that spilt into the memory and changing its happy image to one of sadness and loss. I knew not what the Final Wishes were but this had to be a sign of some sort. The light beckoned ever louder but it was masked by the screams of the Faders as they set their eyes upon me. The screams push me towards the light, but at the same time, they are what made me reach for a reason to stay. This time the reason would be one that made me not want to wash your memory clean dear brother, not to fill the hole that gapes within your mind, not to fill the gap which lies between our scattered souls. This time there is a response, but it is not one which I expect and like a startling sign a voice creeps to me, silencing the screams once more. The light formed a hand, a hand to help me across the distance and it forms the truth which I must now seek. I pick up the memory by my feet; the Final Wishes which I must present. Embracing the light, I close my eyes as a surge of energy rushes to my head and I feel hard ground beneath my feet once more.
I open my eyes to see a robed seer standing in front of me, a quizzical look just visible on his chin beneath his hood. I smile confidently to myself and hand him the Final Wishes. Looking around quickly I notice the palace of colour we appear to reside in and he smiled back at me, turning for the grand doors which lie ahead. Gulping slightly, I follow into an even grander room. I could not describe the details for the colour marvelled me so. It was a spectacular sight, one which would take me many long years to forget. You stand before us dear brother, your hands outstretched ready to receive your Final Wishes. The seer graces you with them and I place the medallion within your hands. Your time Is now dear brother, let your Final Wishes come true.
“You vile and worthless traitor!” Tristan burst out of the front door of the inn and into the streets of Hasaghar. “How dare you show your face around here after what you did!”
Stood before him was a darkened figure from which no details were identifiable. It was like his image was absent from the memory, like something was blocking his appearance from coming to life. All he could do was imagine the unphased look he might have on his face, how he might be smirking and begging for a fight.
“Traitor huh?” his voice was cold and void of all emotion.
Tristan stared at the man, feeling his body boil up with anger and rage in hatred of the man who was probably laughing under his breath.
"Is that the best you've got?" The man toyed, rounding on Tristan like a lion approaching its defeated prey.
"Why are you here...you've won," Tristan pleaded almost. "You've made everyone believe we are the traitors; Felix is gone and we are in hiding. What more could you possibly want?"
He could feel tears waiting to spill from his eyes - he and his brothers had been through so much at the hands of the man who stood before him in the past few weeks and it was all beginning to take its toll. But he would not let them spill, not now, not in front of him...he wouldn't give him the satisfaction.
"I have come for what is rightfully mine."
Tristan didn't know what he meant but he was more concerned by the shouts and screams he could hear coming from back inside the inn. The screams belonged to Dagnen; not too long ago she had gone into labour in the middle of the inn. They'd closed early and taken her upstairs but Tristan was now running out of time. All he wanted to do was get rid of this man that towered over him and watch his child come into the world.
"You leave her out of this!" he demanded, seeing the man's grey eyes sneer up at the open window as his face flashed in a blur of colour.
"Oh I'm not here for her, I have no interest in women. I demand my vengeance!" The man replied, clenching his fists.
"Vengeance? What for?"
"For the wrongs dealt to me."
"Me and my brothers have never wronged you, it is you who have wronged us."
"Well that is where you are wrong. Technically speaking your brothers are the ones who wronged me."
Tristan frowned, he and his brothers had never done anything but follow and learn from the man who stood before him. But now that man had betrayed him all in the name of vengeance for what his brothers did to him. How that could even be possible though was beyond him. He was bought out of his thoughts by another scream from Dagnen and his face screwed up in frustration.
"Leave!" he yelled at the shadow. "Leave here now and never come back."
"I will," the man replied cunningly. "As soon as I get what I came for."
"Well find it someplace else."
"I'm not going anywhere Tristan," again his face flashed into view but once again it was too quick to pinpoint any details except those vacant grey eyes that pulsed out from his eye sockets.
His frustration getting the better of him, Tristan grabbed hold of the man and held him up against the wall shaking him a little before throwing him to the ground. As the man launched through the air, he collided with an empty bottle, crashing to the floor with a rumble of laughter and snapping wood. The crash bought colour to his clothes; a green tunic with gold trimmings and black leggings that descended into brown boots. The man got to his feet and turned to Tristan; his face still as black as the night sky leaving no feature seen except for those grey eyes. They tainted him, daring him to do things he thought himself not capable of doing so. He pictured himself beating the man until he was covered in blood, no life left within his battered face, his own face screwed up in anger as he swung at him again and again. He heard the scream again and the front door of the inn burst open as footsteps came to a stop behind him. He thought he heard his brother say his name, but couldn't be sure as he landed a punch to the man's face flooring him once more. The man looked up in shock, a bearded blooded face flashing in place of the shadow momentarily.
"If I ever see you again," Tristan threatened.
"I swear to God, I will kill you!"
The words struck fear into the man's heart. He could tell by the way he froze there for a second longer just staring up at Tristan as the rain beat down on the streets. Getting to his feet, he slowly backed off before running down the streets and out of sight. Tristan turned to see Jacques standing in the doorway, a concerned look on his face, one that soon turned to apprehension.
"Tristan Dagnen needs you...now!" Jacques yelled
There was a sense of alertness to his voice as he led the way back into the inn and up the stairs to the guest room where Dagnen was screaming as she tried to halt her own natural instinct to push. She wasn't about to give birth without her beloved being by her side. Tristan came to kneel beside her, taking her hand within his and looking into her eyes. For a moment, they locked and everything around them ceased to move. In that space, time stopped and the only motions were shared by their everlasting gaze. But the second was over all too quickly as she began pushing again, silent screams escaping her as she tried to keep her eyes connected with Tristan's. He was good at keeping calm, even in trying situations and that was what gave her strength in that moment. But soon the silence was broken by the cry of a baby and their gaze broke as both looked down to Myrina who held the bloody child within her arms. Tristan looked back to Dagnen and she smiled as Myrina's father cut the cord and wrapped the babe in a clean cloth, wiping the grime from its face. He handed it to Dagnen and Tristan as they both cradled it in their arms.
"It is a girl," he said softly as he rose to his feet and backed up towards the door.
"Congratulations." Myrina blushed, smiling to the two of them as she joined her father by the door.
~~~
The scene faded then and it was as though I were looking upon it like it was a picture stopped in time. I saw you my dear brother with your arms around your beloved as she cradled your daughter within her arms. My niece. So small and so beautiful, so weak and so innocent in that one moment of life. As I reflect upon what I have seen, I realise just what your Final Wishes are and I turn away once more to the darkness that consumes me and separated our souls from uniting once more.
I think of where she'll be now and what she'll look like, whether your beloved will be stood beside her or only able to look upon her face as though she were looking through glass, a barrier between their souls. That barrier is a line, human-made; like that between madness and shadow. But in some places, this barrier wears thin and she can just touch her upon the shoulder, just as you almost touched her face in the grounds of the inn where she stood in front of you just on the other side.
Chapter 41 - No More Secrets
Tristan stared out at the darkened street, counting the candles that were extinguished in the windows as folk turned in for the night. He sighed heavily, wishing for a moment that he could share in their simple lives of mindless routine and never-ending work to pay the taxes and feed countless mouths. It was true Hagen kept a well-oiled machine here in Dilu but the price came at the health and wellbeing of his people, not to mention their disliking for him completely. He wondered what his reaction must've been like when he discovered what had happened to his brother. Oh, the pleasure it bought to Tristan to imagine the look upon Hagen's face when one of his guards presented him with the box. It probably would've confused him at first and then he would’ve seen the resemblance between the runes on the severed flesh and those scarred on Boris' face. The guards were probably dispatched and it wouldn't have taken them long to discover the bloody mess Tristan and Dante had left for him. Would he have wept in front of his men? Would he even let on that a lowly pawn shop owner was his brother? Especially after he had been murdered in such a brutal way.
Footsteps sounded behind him, bringing Tristan out of his thoughts as he turned to face Zhaine; a mopey look upon his face.
"I uh...apologise," Zhaine, and Ramien for that matter were never very good at apologising. Then again neither was Dante so it must've been something that ran in the family.
"What for?" Tristan inclined, a smirk lingering on the left side of his lips.
"Oh don't make me..." Zhaine cursed under his breath, perhaps Tristan was more himself than he realised. "Fine! I apologise for acting as though I knew what was best for you."
"And?"
"For talking about you like you weren't even there."
"And?"
"For arguing with my uncle less than five minutes after meeting him for the first time. Now can we give it a rest?"
"Gladly."
Tristan smiled to himself, strolling past Zhaine and heading for the stairs down to the entrance way. As he reached the banister, he felt a pulse shoot through his head and his body buckled over, collapsing him to the floor. He could hear footsteps echo as Zhaine came rushing to his side, shouting his name as he did so. But Tristan didn't hear anything else, just the screams of a woman begging a man to stop an onslaught of some kind. His left hand began to burn and his vision blurred as his face became hot and swollen as though someone were punching him repeatedly. But the punches were not meant for him. It was like none of it was really happening, not to him anyway but to someone else. Only somehow, the pain was inflicting on him too, like whoever that person was was calling out for help. Like they were linked.
No sooner had the pain begun it was over again leaving no more than a lingering tingle across the mark on his left palm. He clenched his fist as he felt Zhaine back off a few paces leaving Tristan to get to his feet on his own. He'd obviously seen the mark and was now thinking the worst.
"I know what you're thinking," Tristan said calmly. "But I'm not a traitor."
"Then why do you have that fucking mark on your hand?" Zhaine questioned erratically, his voice quivering slightly in misguided fear.
"It's called the mark of the Bearer of Secrets. I'm not quite sure what it means, but by my understanding it appeared because of the secrets I kept not just from the Keepers but my own brothers. I guess in a way, by keeping the secrets I did I effectively betrayed my Brotherhood...but I never betrayed the Keepers."
"Who else knew about the mark?"
"Cedric. He more or less worked it out for himself actually with those visions he used to have. And then Romeo found out not long after we were out casted as traitors by Charles."
"So you promise, you're not a traitor?"
"I swear it!"
Zhaine nodded to him, the look of fear now slipping from his pale face as he tried to relax his stance.
"So what happened then?" He asked, not sure how to take what he had just witnessed and heard.
"I think someone is in trouble." Tristan explained, choosing his word carefully to ensure his brother would understand. "You see Dante has the same mark and as far as we are aware we are the only two Bearers of Secrets. He said that he knew Felix was in danger because he felt it when we went to see Boris."
"So you think you felt Dante in danger?"
"Potentially. Do you know where he is?"
"No, he stormed off not long after you. I don't know where he went..."Zhaine's voice trailed off as an echo crept into Tristan's ears. It cried out for help from anyone who was listening. This time the pain felt different, like it was dull and lingering. Obviously, the beating had stopped, or maybe it wasn't a beating at all. The pain he felt deep in his heart was familiar and Zhaine seemed to notice as his face became taunt once more. He placed a hand on Tristan's shoulder bringing him back to reality.
"You okay?" He asked his voice full of concern.
"I'm not sure," Tristan wasn't sure how to explain it not even to himself. "It's an odd sort of pain this time."
"Describe it to me, the pain I mean."
"Well the first time it was like I was being punched over and over again and there was like a...it felt like my head might explode. But now, it's dull and part of me feels lifeless. It's hard to explain."
"When you felt the pain, did you feel like a falling sensation - the second time round I mean."
"No but I did the f
irst time. Why what are you thinking?"
"I don't know if you'll remember but when we escaped the Compound in Hasaghar, just after we were branded as traitors. We tried to portal out but every time we did, we ended up just a few feet away from where we had aparated. It's known as the spliesing effect and was actually really dangerous. Basically, Charles had stopped the use of glyph magic in the Compound which we didn't know at the time, meaning it was virtually impossible to get out of there in one piece. In the worst-case scenarios people have lost limbs...but we got out eventually.
“I remember the pain I felt when we finally got out of the Compound. All that spliesing, over and over again, the pain was almost unbearable and we were lucky to be in one piece...all be it bloodied up a bit...well a lot. It felt like I was being ripped in two afterwards, but during it was like someone was throwing rocks at me continuously. It's...an onslaught of pain."
