The Great Beyond- the Vile Fate

by K M McGuire

  He shook his head. “I’m not sure there is much to go off of,” he said. He glanced back behind him, staring at the small boat rocking along the shore. “Why is this weather so terrible?”

  Blossum looked out at the pitch sky. A bolt of lightning flared through the air, casting a din across an odd mountain in the ocean. She stared at it, wondering if she had seen red glows leering at her from its peaks. She shook her head. “They don’t want us to find answers,” she said emotionlessly, trying not to allow for her patience to falter.

  “You old hag! I see ‘is armor! ‘E’s the one to break it!” screeched the chubby woman from above them, behind the cube, her neck flailing with accusations. She slapped the middle woman across the back of the head.

  “No! It’s a fire o’ sort--tha’ll burn it right off! Tha’s what the Vedra heart is tellin’ us!” said the middle one, who’s hair was scraggly and looked as if she was so old and thin, she had begun to melt.

  “Fools!” the third called, her voice filled with awe. Her eyes sparkled a moment, her toothless face agape as she stared into the cube’s storm. Blossum perked up, her brow furrowing as the woman spoke. A peel of thunder shook the shack, but she paid it no mind. She looked at Urelle, who raised his eyebrow.

  “Sister,” the first said, looking hard at the third. “You cannot mean…”

  “Touch hands,” the middle said, and they each nodded, placing their palms together, energy spiraling around them. With a singular nod, the two on the ends broke their contact with each other then placed their palms against the now violently stirring cube, flames whirling in crazed excitement. Their eyes rolled; their bodies convulsed in a strange unison, and oddly, the room turned dark, where only a mass loomed over them, or had become the old women—Blossum was unsure—and turned to a shadow creeping up the ceiling as though it had collected them into a single entity.

  And the being spoke:

  “By what was forged in sphere Beyond,

  Embrace the knight the heavens lost.

  Eternal sword splits curse in twain,

  The pure of heart will cause Hell to wane.”

  The room became calm. The three women drifted back into their stools, unable to speak. Blossum gave Urelle an odd glance. “What does it mean?” she asked.

  The woman in the center shook her head, eyes wild with confusion, “’Aven’t a clue, dear! Most answers are found with more questions! Now, the gift you give us…?” They reached out their hands eagerly.

  Blossum manifested the vial inside her bubble. “You know, I cannot offer this to you,” she said, letting it spin above her hand. “You were my last hope in breaking my prison. I can’t offer you a thing until your end is fulfilled.”

  The three collected together, whispering to one another. Finally, they nodded firmly. “I’m sure it will make its way to where it needs to go then. Who we serve always gets their way. Your curse shall break, girl. Don’t worry about that, and it will be with something familiar, of things you thought lost. It’s all a matter of time.”

  “Then perhaps my choice is to kill the Zemilia.”

  The crones gave her a blank stare, for the first time since Blossum had arrived, they were quiet. “I…I fear that may be worse, dear girl!” the chubby one said, while the others nodded their agreements.

  “Why?”

  “We ‘aven’t a clue what that could do,” the middle one said, and quickly she scanned the cube, tracing her finger along the face. “Why, that could solidify your prison till the Great Beyond is breached, or worse, it could kill you and trap our prize in there forever! And that will not do!”

  “Perhaps…” Blossum said, her eyes elsewhere in thought.

  The ancient women waved her away, and the vision blurred again, and morphed into the woods by the far end of the lake, where a hooded individual stood before her.

  “You have failed me, Blossum,” the hooded man said. She paid him no mind. He seemed of little consequence, until he pulled a black cube from out of his cloak. “I had hoped we could have met under better conditions. You know why I’m here?”

  She chuckled. “Yes, and I would be more than happy to hand it over to you,” she said. She snapped her fingers, and the vial materialized next to her. She stared into the churning water, trapped as much as she was. “But as it has been like this for over a thousand years, I think you’re wise enough to realize your desires cannot change the circumstances. Your anger won’t change a thing.” She turned to the hooded man. “What is in the cube?” she asked curiously. Her thoughts instantly turned to the massive cube that the old augurs called a “Vedra heart.”

  “Many things,” the voice came slithering out of the hood. “A part of the future that promises much to us.”

  “Maybe one for you,” Blossum responded, still staring at the vial. “You thought that boy would break my curse? You cannot be that foolish?”

  “It was…an oversight,” the man agreed, and slid the box back inside his cloak. “He returned to me, and I turned his request down. The boy fled somewhere north, I believe. I will have my spies watch him. There may be a future for him. One must know all the pieces still on the chessboard if one wishes to play well.”

  She could see his head cock slightly, gauging her reaction.

  She scoffed at the stare. “Don’t torture the boy. He hardly knows who he is, let alone how to help me! I didn’t have the heart to kill him.”

  “You have softened. Do you know what will break your curse?”

  Blossum bit her lip. She wasn’t entirely sure how much trust she could put in him, half of that sentiment still attached to the memories of Estra. “I have heard of a weapon, one that comes from a being—a warrior named Malavar—whom I believed to be a myth. If his sword could be found, I believe it capable of breaking this bond. More than that, I do not know. I fear killing the Zemilia will only solidify my curse.”

  “Indeed,” the man agreed. “Then I shall make preparations in the meantime. Do nothing until I give you word. I promise this will all pan out well, once everything is secured. Don’t worry about the Zemilia, its time will come.”

  She nodded, then said, “I feel there is more to that cube you are not telling me. I sense its…energy.”

  The figure pulled it out again, holding it up. “Yet, how do you not sense any others? Curious…it is only a piece of the whole—the answers waiting to break open, but you hold the key to all of those answers. You have become the fulcrum. And to think you believed yourself just a curse.” He said no more and waved his hands, his face glowing with his eyes turning white. He vanished in a flash of light, shaking the branches in his wake.

  Now, Blossum stared off at the moon, memories captured in the pocked surface, wondering what to do while she waited, having waited long already, she knew at least time was growing short.

  The ivory vapor danced again like agitated sprites returning from where they came. Voden could now feel himself, seeming to manifest out of the mist, spitting him out to reality again. The fog spiraled around the sphere holding Blossum and faded as it touched the surface. Her eyes burned through the cloud. Her head cocked slightly as her burning hair pulsed to an unknown vibration set inside the orb. Colors became more vibrant, the sky turning itself over to the moon, while shadows of trees danced, carrying the white slopes of snow, lazy with slumber. He was now free to move, though he knew he had forgotten himself, realizing that the time had gone almost nowhere. The moon had not moved from its position. The Tastin guards only moved enough for the fog to build and collapse, and the stars flickered blissfully as though Voden had only enough time to blink.

  Voden felt a queasy sensation bloom in his chest. The visions felt so real to him he had almost accepted the memories as his own. Perhaps they were. He had felt every bit of them, even down to the thoughts, which that had formed inside her head. He could see in Andar’s sickly face he was affected similarly by the intimate experience.

  They remained quiet in the moment, unable to speak, and Voden was sure that
when he spoke, it would sound just like Blossum. The lake brought the thought of time back to Voden’s thoughts, lapping in gentle lulls against the rocks of the shore.

  “Who was that man?” Andar finally said, his face wrenched with thought.

  “You haven’t figured it out?” Blossum responded, bemused. Her laugh rippled against her dome. She shook her head and left the question alone.

  “You know, Blossum,” Andar said, giving her a concerned look. “Maybe I am the one to break your curse. But I don’t believe it to be because of the sword.”

  For the first time since meeting her, her expression became surprised. Silence held her a moment in stasis, as she examined him thoughtfully. “What makes you say that? What more could there be? I have searched every possible solution, yet all have been waste! Tell me why? What have I missed in my age of searching?” her voice became harsh but not without pangs of bitter angst.

  Andar stared at her, a moment, then turned his eyes to the sky. “The Will,” he muttered, as though he wished not to admit it. He dug inside his shirt and pulled out the small vial tethered to his neck. His eyes lit with a burst of inspiration. “I think the Seers may have been right that your curse would be broken, but you are only seeing the first layer to the curse.” He paused a moment to allow for the thought to sink in. “The second was to separate you from your master and break the chains the Zemilia has stitched into you.”

  “Then what are you purposing?” she asked softly.

  Voden gave him a confused look, but Andar ignored him, thinking a moment. Blossum shifted closer to him, her sphere nearing his face, staring almost longingly at him.

  “Let me help you.” he said, voice hardly loud enough for Voden to hear him. “Let it be, if you will. Even with that small leap of faith, you will go much further than standing still.”

  Her lips fell slightly open, breathing gently, “Who are you?” she asked, her eyes near tears.

  “Exactly who I am meant to be. May I help you?”

  Blossum nodded her head, unable to speak, when she exhaled with a gasp, mouth quivering. Her eyes turned towards her arm, where with a shock, she saw her hands pressed now against Andar’s fingers, the sphere rippling in rainbow waves of refractions that swirled around his arm. He pushed his other hand through, taking her other hand in his, staring calmly into her eyes. Her eyes began to swell at the touch of his skin, unable to comprehend the sensations that graced her hands. Her lip trembled, attempting to speak, but words could not form, as she mindlessly helped Andar step inside the globe.

  Voden watched the sphere take him without refusal, rippling around his body. She could not keep her emotions at bay, blinking to remove the tears, producing diamonds that sparkled with a marvelous spectrum of feelings. Wonder took root in her features, with a trembling of nearly two thousand years of abandonment and loneliness, crashing from off her shoulders. Unable to contain herself, she brought her wavering hands against Andar’s cheeks, touching every smooth surface surrounding his eyes, the feature she seemed to adore beyond all else.

  “H-how long has it been!” she choked, joy streaming along her delicate cheeks. “Dear, Beyond! How I have longed for this!” she leaned forward to kiss him, but he stopped her gently.

  “It’s okay, Blossum,” Andar whispered, taking her face in his hands now. She rubbed her head along his palms, placing her hands now around his. “It must have been true suffering to be alone like this. I wish to help lift this burden.”

  She watched him with awe, unable to look anywhere other than his eyes, as he smiled warmly at her. She pulled herself close to him, resting her head against his chest as if she needed to hear the sound of the heart. He hissed from the pain, and she pulled away. “I-I’m sorry! I-just-,”

  “It’s fine,” he said calmly. He moved his hands towards his neck and pulled the thin chain that held the vial. He took her hand, and placed it on her palm, spilling the chain gentle on top of it. “Listen, I know this isn’t much, and it may do nothing. Something is telling me that it will. I haven’t much more of an answer other than try. Much of the curses we find over our lives are the ones that whisper to us that there is no longer hope. Much of the restoration process is fighting for the idea that there always is. I think it best that you drink it. What you do from here is no longer in my hands.”

  She stared at the small bottle, stuck in her thoughts. Andar smiled, and leaned forward, kissing her gently on the forehead, then turned and stepped out of the sphere. “Wait!” she called, eyes turning fearful, “I-I need you.”

  Andar smiled. “You need to be okay with yourself first. You’ve been able to hide yourself behind the crown of a queen, but you haven’t been truly vulnerable as a human. Salvation is found in broken pieces that urge to be rebuilt, and the romance is complete when that urging is answered. I will be here when you accept that. I cannot force your will. Only by one’s choice can there be freedom, if they choose to accept the gift offered.”

  She turned her eyes towards the vial and pulled at the chain, dangling it in front of her eyes. It sparkled in the dome, and she let it go, where it hung before her, as if it were staring back at her. She glanced up at the sky, moments hardly churning with her eyes meditating over the secrets of the moon. She pressed her lips together, fighting whatever sadness scratched at her heart, but Voden could see it becoming tangible on her face. She embraced herself as if she had felt the cold air for the first time, whisking away the confidence she always clothed herself in. Perhaps it was the first time she realized how naked she was. The wind hid from the air; the trees hung with anticipation.

  “Perhaps it is time to see what hope tastes like,” she muttered, and plucked the stopper from the vial. She tilted her head back, dropping the liquid down her throat, until the vial was empty. She straightened, looking across her skin to see if anything had happened. Nothing. Her eyes became her new lamentation as she turned to Andar, who only smiled at her.

  “Thank you for trying,” he said. “Trust in hope and you will be free. Again, you can be innocent.” As he finished speaking, the sword shot down from his wrist, blurring in a flash of blue, and he spun the sword in the air, slashing the blade down into the sphere, where the tip stopped inches from Blossum’s face. There was a pause, where the tension around everyone stiffened, but before anyone could act, she began to glow from hair to toe, white light cracking out of her pores.

  Astonished, Voden stepped back, following the fractal lines of iridescent colors weaving across the surface of the sphere, and as it cracked, it began to distort her image. Her hair flared in all directions; her skin now so bright it was as though the sun had suddenly rose over them. While light billowed out of her mouth, all Voden could do was cover his eyes. The world became a whitewash of brilliant light, followed by a catastrophic noise that rang out like thick breaking ornaments of glass, shaking Voden to his bones, and before he had a chance to realize what was happening, his body was cast backward.

  He could not see even with his eyes open. Everything was bathed in white. Slowly, they adjusted. The hazy shapes of the trees came first, and he was soon able to see the figures laying limp in the snow. Where the bubble once existed lay a porcelain figure who had nearly vanished to the snow.

  Voden tried to straighten himself, wavering as he walked over towards the pale body. Her hair was long and as blonde as the rays of the sun. He quickly rolled Blossum over, facing her head towards the sky, and immediately felt his face flush, looking down at her naked body. He pulled his cloak off himself, laid it on the ground and rolled her onto it, pulling it snuggly around her. He wasn’t sure why he was so shocked at how young she looked. He half expected her to be much older, though she had not changed all that much, it was only now that he realized she looked to be only a few years older than he. He looked at her hand that fell out of the fur, and in it rested the vial that Estra had given her, loosely held by her fingers. A moment almost convinced him to take it and run, but he denied the thought.

  She began to coug
h, and Voden lifted her into his arms, hoping to console her, each cough becoming denser in sound, when finally her eyes flickered open. Her coughs were trapped within her as she convulsed, and her eyes grew fearful. Voden began to panic, as her hands reached out for her own neck, and he suddenly added it all together. He set her down, cautiously putting his hands between her breasts, and pressed down repeatedly until she hacked up a tiny, purple cube. She spit it on the ground, and it sizzled in the snow. She turned her cyan blues eyes towards him.

  “Voden,” she whispered sweetly. Her voice was gentle. “Where is Andar?” she asked. She pushed Voden away so she could sit up. He looked around, and her guards were now stirring, rubbing their head from the blast, but there was no sign of Andar. Voden’s head pivoted around and caught a glimpse of an unmoving mass, collapsed in the snow.

  Voden leaped forward into a run, sliding next to his friend, fear thundering in his heart. He stared at Andar’s unconscious face, slapping his hand gently against his cheek,

  “Andar?” he called, tapping his cheek again. He gave a dull moan. Voden saw the blood, the wound ripped open on his chest, soaking his shirt a deep red.

  “What’s wrong?” Blossum said, when she knelt next to Voden.

  “The wound opened up!” he cried helplessly.

  Blossum, brushed Voden aside, taking Andar’s head in her hands. “I-I don’t know if I can save him,” she said, eyes becoming scared. “I don’t think I can pull enough energy fast enough to heal him. I won’t have time to control where it comes from! It’s too risky!”

  “We need to try!”

  She placed her hands against his chest, the slight pressure caused the blood to roll over top of her fingers. Andar moaned, and he stirred with a mumble caught by the pain.

  “D-don’t pull the energy,” he stammered. “Petition for the energy.”

  Blossum gave him a confused look, and she shared the look with Voden. She grimaced, unsure of herself.