The Antithesis- The Complete Pentalogy

by Terra Whiteman

  “Sure,” she said.

  Leid continued on without me and I watched until she disappeared behind the closing elevator doors. When she was gone, I hurried over to Yahweh’s office.

  “Hey,” I said, not bothering to knock. The kid had his back turned and at the sound of my voice he jumped, dropping a cluster of files at his feet.

  “Goodness,” he mumbled, kneeling to collect them. “You nearly gave me a heart attack.”

  “Sorry. Can I ask you a question?”

  “Depends on the question.”

  Yahweh’s face deadpanned as I shut the door. He’d realized it was going to be that kind of question.

  “How much do you know about Vel’Haru?”

  He hesitated. “Quite a bit, I guess.”

  Even though the door was shut and we were completely alone, I still looked over my shoulder, half expecting someone else to be there. “Have you ever heard of them checking out?”

  “… Checking out?”

  “Yeah, like going insane.”

  His face changed again, but it was imperceptible. “Can you be a little less vague?”

  I wasn’t about to tell the kid that Leid had almost choke-fucked me to death. “Do their eyes ever turn black? Do they ever… get violent?”

  Yahweh stared at me, seeming a little disturbed. “I haven’t ever heard of that happening, no. Is everything alright, Qaira?”

  I looked away, trying to hide my disappointment. “Yeah, fine.” And now this was really awkward. “Thanks anyway. I’ll give you a call when I talk to Ara.”

  Before the kid could say anything else, I was gone. I’d seen him step into the hall in my peripherals, watching my departure. Yahweh had just stated that he didn’t know what I was talking about, but his face said otherwise.

  He’d looked scared, grave.

  Telei wasn’t telling me something. I should have forced it out of him, but couldn’t here. Not here. I’d have to get him alone, and that would be easy enough to arrange.

  ***

  My stool was uncomfortable and the murmuring crowd beyond the curtains wreaked havoc on my nerves. The bow kept sliding through my fingers because my palms were coated in sweat.

  I’d performed twelve times before this, but it never got any easier. Stage fright was in my blood. Ironic that the Regent of Sanctum suffered crippling stage fright, but here I was, shaking like a lamb led out to slaughter.

  My mother had been part of the Sanctum Symphony, and I’d continued her legacy. Once a month I played at Yema Theater for an audience that was sometimes as large as fourteen thousand. Tonight there were ten thousand.

  Our conductor shouted for everyone to get into position, and musicians scrambled across the stage with their instruments and sheet-books. I was already in place, and so was Leid, sitting across the stage with the other cellists. She wore a violet dress and her hair was tied in a white ribbon. Beautiful, as always.

  And she was never nervous.

  “I hope I can hook that bridge this time,” muttered Dhan, a violinist. He studied his sheets, a frown pulling at his lips.

  “All about that quarter beat,” I said, tightening my strings.

  “It’s not that. It’s something about the way the trumpets come in. Throws me off every time and I start to follow them.”

  “Then you should play the trumpet.”

  Dhan rolled his eyes, and I grinned.

  The lights dimmed; all of us fell silent, even the audience.

  The curtains drew slowly and we were smothered by spotlights. All I could see was the stage and other musicians. The audience had become a sea of silhouettes, which soothed my nerves.

  The conductor raised his wand, holding it there.

  Drums.

  We raised our violins, tucking them beneath our chin.

  Cellos.

  Then us, balancing the somber melody, adding a lighter texture. Music came in layers, levels. It was amazing how different the same song sounded, all depending on the instrument.

  Our opening song was called Truen di Abadena. March for the Abandoned, an ancient hymn sung on the way to battle. A personal favorite.

  We became a conglomeration of rhythm and strokes, each area moving differently, but it all seemed perfectly choreographed. Cameras flashed from the audience, and I wondered how many of them were taking pictures of me. Since the angels’ settlement, my image had been transformed from Warlord to Humanitarian, and violinist for the Sanctum Symphony only added to that persona.

  By the middle of the concert I was sweating like a pig. Between each song I had to wipe the coat of perspiration accumulating across my forehead and hands. The spotlights were slow-roasting us. Who knew that playing the violin could be such a workout?

  And then something felt different. The air. The gravity.

  My eyes swept over the crowd, still faceless shadows. All except for one.

  A man was sitting front row center, radiating a spotlight of his own. He wore a white suit and purple tie, with jet black hair that spilled across his shoulders, reaching all the way to his ribs. He was handsome, almost surreally so, with sharp features and a soft mouth pulled into a curious frown.

  Silver eyes. No rings.

  Not Nehelian.

  Not Nehelian, my mind repeated. I almost stopped playing, but forced myself to keep on. All the while we stared at each other, silver against silver, and there was ice where our eyes met.

  I shot a glance at Leid, but she didn’t see me, or him. Her head was down, eyes closed in fierce concentration. She always memorized our songs.

  A Vel’Haru was here, watching us. Why? After ten years, why now?

  I wanted to snatch my wife and flee, but I was stuck on this stool until the concert was over, giving that Vel’Haru plenty of time to plan.

  My pulse was in my throat, and my stomach began to churn with unease.

  But when I looked back at him, the chair was empty.

  He was gone.

  ***

  We had planned for drinks with Dhan and his wife after the concert, but I faked sick and canceled.

  I didn’t tell Leid about what I’d seen during the performance. I wasn’t sure why, but for some reason it didn’t seem right to tell her. Not yet.

  Leid was waiting for me in the lobby. It was raining and I told her I’d bring our craft around since her dress had cost three hundred usos. The truth was that I wanted her to stay in a crowded area.

  I hurried through the parking lot, shivering. My coat was already soaked and each breath left my lips as tiny plumes of steam. Cold season had begun several weeks ago, and pretty soon it would snow. I needed a thicker jacket.

  I unlocked my craft and threw my violin case in the cabin. When I shut the door and turned around, I jumped.

  That Vel’Haru was standing twenty feet away, leant against a median-pillar. When our eyes met, he smiled.

  “Who are you?” I demanded.

  “My name is Calenus Karim,” he said.

  Him.

  Honestly, he wasn’t what I’d expected. But Namah had been right again—nobles had a certain look to them. Calenus was… deific. Tall, taller than Commander Raith, with features that appeared chiseled from stone. Our eyes were identical, but his seemed to glow.

  “You’re a talented violinist,” he said. “I enjoyed your performance very much.”

  “What do you want?”

  “I want to turn around and go home,” said Calenus, sadly. “But I can’t. Not until I tell you something that will break your heart.” Before I could respond, he looked back at the theater, the sadness on his face waning. “Leid seems happy here.”

  “She is.”

  “That’s good. Another of us destroyed her life once, and when he died I tried to fix her. I knew I couldn’t undo the damage, but I at least tried to make her happy. I failed, yet here she is, happy, and it’s elating. And painstaking.”

  I said nothing, utterly confused. “So… why are you here again?”

  Calenus looked back
at me, the warmth in his expression gone. He was frigid. “She has to come back, Qaira.”

  Panic squeezed my chest and my heart began to race. “Ixiah promised me that she could stay here. The contract was voided. Leid was excommunicated from your court.”

  “My guardian made a deal with you that he had no power over. If I could keep his word, I would, but there is something that he doesn’t know.”

  “Which is?”

  He looked away, conflicted. “Leid is sick.”

  Sick. Calenus didn’t even have to tell me what that meant. I already knew. “What happens to her? Why do her eyes turn black?”

  “So you’ve seen it.”

  “Tell me what’s wrong with Leid. Can you help her?”

  “What she has isn’t curable, and it progresses. Keeping her here will put your world at risk.”

  No.

  No, this couldn’t be happening. “She’s my wife.”

  “I know. I know how you feel, but you have to understand that this isn’t personal. I’m trying to save your world.”

  His cryptic explanation wasn’t cutting it. I wasn’t going to toss my wife back into the very nightmare from which we had almost died to free her. “Are you asking for my permission?”

  “I need your permission. I can’t force Leid to come back. If we fought here, it could ruin your city. You have to be the one to persuade her to return.”

  Calenus was asking me to break her heart. Turn her out, so she would have nowhere else to go. “Forget it.”

  I moved away, opening the driver-side door of my craft, cueing that our conversation was over.

  “If you don’t listen to me now, the next time we meet it’ll be too late.”

  I said nothing and shut the door. When I searched for him through the window, he was gone—

  And then he was right in front of my craft, clearing a twenty foot distance in a second flat.

  “Listen, please.” Even though I shouldn’t have been able to hear him, Calenus’ voice rang clear as if he was sitting in the passenger seat. “You have to let her go. Your world will collapse if you don’t.”

  “Quit with the melodrama,” I snarled. “If Leid was putting our world at risk, she would have already left.”

  “She doesn’t know.”

  It was true. She could never remember her episodes. Could I tell her? Should I? If I did, she might leave, and I didn’t want her to leave. I didn’t want her to know. And for some reason, neither did Calenus.

  None of this seemed right, and my suspicions were growing stronger by the second.

  I started the ignition. “Get out of my way.”

  Instead of complying, he placed his right hand on the nose of my craft. “Her eyes turn black whenever she loses herself. There is something inside of her—something else. That something does not love you, or anyone, or anything.”

  “I said get out of my way!”

  “It feeds on weakness, eating little pieces of her at a time. Soon Leid won’t be able to keep it down and it will take over completely. And then you’ll die. And then your world will die. Everything it touches will die, until the Multiverse is gone.”

  Fine, fuck him.

  I floored the pedal.

  But the craft didn’t budge. Calenus was holding it in place with one hand.

  His lips twisted into a snarl. Obviously he was not too pleased with the fact that I’d just tried to run him over, and the look in his eyes relayed that I had about five seconds before he killed me.

  I reached into the glove box and ripped out my gun, firing through the windshield. Glass exploded everywhere, raining across my face and lap, and then suddenly my craft lurched and barreled forward at the speed of light. I stomped the brakes and my craft came to a screeching halt at the other side of the lot, only several inches from a guardrail.

  At first I just sat there, breathing heavy. My eyes darted to each window and mirror, but Calenus had disappeared again, this time for good.

  I didn’t believe that I’d fatally wounded him. Or even tickled him. The noise from my gun and shattering windshield probably attracted more attention than he’d liked. Specifically the police craft that was making its rounds around the theater.

  Even more specifically, Leid.

  “Qaira?” she shouted, running toward me. The cello case in her hand might as well have been a sheet of paper. “What happened? Are you alright?”

  No, I was not alright. I was soaked and shivering, looking around my craft as if a monster was about to leap out of the shadows and drag me off. “I told you to wait for me in the lobby.”

  “I heard shots fired.” She didn’t seem to know what had happened, which meant she hadn’t seen Calenus.

  Tell her, screamed my conscience. But I couldn’t. It was clear that our life together was coming to an end, and if I said anything it would be over even sooner. I wanted to hold on to it—to her—for as long as I could.

  Stupid and selfish, I know.

  “Two men just tried to steal my craft.”

  Leid looked around, hand against her chest. “They got away?”

  “I shot at them but they flew off. I might have hit one, though.”

  She looked back at me, and I couldn’t read her expression. There was something in her eyes, like she knew I was lying. The rain had saturated her hair and it clung to the sides of her face. I could see her black lace bra through her sopping dress. “Are you hurt?”

  “No, thankfully. Come inside before you get cold.”

  She did, and without another word I sped off. All Leid did was look out the window as shadows played across her face, casting dark lines that emphasized her concern. The whole way home I thought about her hands around my neck and those gleaming black eyes. I hadn’t seen that in ten years. How long until I’d see it again? Ten years was long enough to forget, move on, and continue our life.

  But I knew, deep down, that I would never forget, and nothing would ever be the same.

  VII

  OUT OF THE BLUE

  “WE’VE REACHED THE LOWEST LAYER OF THE ATRIUM,” Lucifer announced this morning over an Aeon bridge call. “Our crew says we have to see the mines.”

  He had transferred over a blurry video recording that the mining crew had taken of a cavern. The walls were covered in blue glass, but its phosphorescence was like a strobe light, blinking at three second intervals. Everyone was baffled and excited, especially Lucifer, who had wanted to see that place for himself.

  And now here I was, three hours later, sitting in a deep-excavation craft that descended through the sixth-layer. Four guards—two Nehelians, two angels—sat quietly in the cabin as Lucifer and I traversed the freezing cold unknown.

  It was the first time that I’d ever been so deep, and without lights we would have been immersed in complete darkness. Tiny flecks of frozen moisture—I couldn’t call it snow or rain, sort of a combination of both—hit the windshield, falling thereafter to an endless sprawl of solid black tundra. It was unlivable here; the scenery was a testament to that.

  “How much further?” I mumbled, eyes glued to the window. I hadn’t said much because I didn’t want anyone knowing how terrified I was. Even though Lucifer and his crew had assured me that their advanced technology would keep us safe, I couldn’t help but feel like we didn’t belong here.

  And we didn’t belong here. We were defying the elements that strived to keep us away for a good reason. If anything—even the littlest thing— went wrong, we all would die.

  But that was a risk of progress, said Lucifer. He had spent half of our trip describing their deep sea excavations on Felor, and all of the incredible creatures and resources that they had found at the bottom of their oceans. All the while I’d sat there trying to program my headset. Archaean technology was a puzzle.

  At the heart of The Atrium was a gaseous ocean, with islands suspended above it. The islands were layered—hence their name—and each was like a step up a ladder, all the way to Heaven. Tears in the layers allowed for deepe
r travel, but the pockets were located in specific places. We were coming up on the sixth layer’s pocket now.

  One of our engineers sent a radio transmission to the awaiting miners, letting them know we were half an hour out. They responded with directions to the cavern, but as the scenery grew even darker, I really had no idea how we were going to find anything. Lucifer and his angel scientists didn’t seem too worried, though.

  “External temperature has dropped to negative one hundred quasens. Wind speed is forty-five certas,” announced some kind of scientist, seated at the systems control panel.

  “Negative one hundred quasens,” said Yahweh, whistling quietly under his breath. “Stick your hand out of the craft and it will freeze instantly.”

  Dr. Telei was here too, of course. He would never miss the chance of being part of a ground-breaking discovery. The kid hadn’t said much since we’d left, only sat in a rolling chair and watched videos of the cavern. He kept freezing the footage and putting his face inches from the screen, as if that would help him see any better.

  Fat chance. It looked like the camera man was having a seizure.

  “I bet it’s bacteria,” Yahweh kept mumbling. “It has to be bacteria.”

  Why was I even here?

  “I’m doing you a favor,” Lucifer had said the moment I’d protested coming along. “Sanctum will want a claim in this.”

  The only upside to being here was that I’d had to cancel a meeting with the Board of Commerce. Hooray.

  The craft groaned as it fought shell warping, pressure tremors shooting through the cabin. I sat upright, clutching my headset so tightly that it almost snapped.

  “Reducing pressure,” called the same scientist at the system control station. “Pressure decreased to seventy percent.”

  My ears popped, as did everyone else’s, and we all spent a minute or two rubbing them.

  There were several Nehelian scientists at the back of the cabin who were calibrating their drilling equipment. Yahweh had brought them from the Plexus. Other than that, I was sorely outnumbered. My guards seemed a little uncomfortable by this, too. Eighty percent of Sanctum still didn’t speak Archaean.