As Eilee sat on the edge of the fountain, the swans’ gazes turned to her. It seemed to Treycore that even in their lowly state they could detect the elegant presence of their creator through her.
Treycore understood why she had brought him here, for nowhere in the castle had she looked as picturesque and flawless as she did in that very spot.
Her gaze lifted to the clear-blue sky. Her eyes filled with ease, though Treycore knew it was an artificial ease Eilee had managed to capture through long, meditative moments before her reflection. She turned to him, pressing either hand against the marble stone. Glancing him up and down, a vengeful look glistened in her pupils. Treycore knew that look. It was condescending, judgmental. It was the one he deserved.
“Well, Trey, what brings you all the way out here?” The way she said it, it seemed like he’d just stumbled upon her and that the past half an hour hadn’t been filled with the most awkward of introductory exchanges. It was a part of Eilee’s existence, as Treycore recalled: this belief that moments didn’t occur until Eilee decided they should. Perhaps it was the result of all the formative years she’d spent side-by-side with the Almighty. Or perhaps it was an exaggerated imprint from Him. Regardless of where it came from, it was clear to Treycore that for all intents and purposes, this was the beginning of their encounter.
Treycore prepared to speak his motive when Eilee interrupted with, “No, no. Don’t tell me. Shall I guess?” She giggled. “We could make it a game. Hmmm…”
She scanned about, as she had before. This time, her eyes were filled with amusement, like she was halfway through charades, piecing together clues.
She smiled broadly, tossing her head around as she considered the possibilities. “I can’t imagine that this is a visit to check on my wellbeing. No. Surely, you wouldn’t have bothered to trek this far simply to see if I was doing well.”
She bit her lip. “I would speculate on the Council sending you to retrieve me from my isolation, but I don’t believe they would consider sending you unless they’ve developed a cruel sense of humor. No, no. Something worse. Something darker. Something more serious. Has the little parasite abandoned her host?”
She smirked. “As if anyone leaves Treycore. No, no. That can’t be it either.”
She stood, tilting her head as she made her way to one of the cages, the branches of a nearby rose bush weaved into its bars. She rested her hand against the bars, around which white roses grew. She gazed at two of the trapped doves that rested on a nearby perch.
It was another picturesque moment, one that seemed as manipulated as all the others. Like she had practiced this performance a thousand times before his arrival.
“Have you little ones any thoughts?” she asked. “Can you speculate on why my Treycore has come so far out of his way to call upon me? Treycore, they don’t seem to know either.”
Her dialogue with the little creatures disturbed him. She had clearly been left on her own for too long.
She laughed again, turned to Treycore, and leaned against the bars of the cage.
“I don’t expect them to reply,” she said. “It’s a joke—a play to mock the news I’m sure you’ve heard about my situation.”
Despite her acknowledgement of the bizarre nature of her words with the doves, Treycore wasn’t positive she was being entirely insincere.
She released a few more high-pitched giggles.
“I can only imagine the sorts of things you’ve heard. I wish I could say they weren’t true, but they are. At least, some of them, I’m sure.”
“Eilee, we don’t have to—”
“I insist. I don’t want you to rely on the stories. You know how stories make everything so awful. Everything is so distant, so out of context. Just ask the Leader about the power of stories to twist and deceive. They aren’t the real thing. Although, I suppose the only access to the real thing is for one to be witness of it, and it’s a shame you could not have been present to see my side.
“As I’m sure you are aware, as peacemaker with the Council, my primary objective was peace. This was all of our objectives. We were to find a way that all the realms could peacefully co-exist. We spent decades dwelling on the subject, reading literature, philosophizing on the nature of peace. Tekker and Dissapha were my colleagues. And after much debate and dispute, we came to the consensus that two important factors were required to create peace. The first, a supreme authority, and second, obedience to laws under this authority. I don’t just mean following reasonable laws. All laws must be followed, even those that are unjust. For instance, let us say that there is a law to not speak out against the authority. Well, anyone who speaks out must be punished, regardless of whether or not their claim is warranted. This is because, in knowing the law and keeping it official and certain, creatures are able to behave accordingly and stay within these parameters, and eventually, it leads to order, which in turn leads to peaceful co-existence.
“Obviously, when establishing this, we gave little thought to the emotional bondage that this necessarily entails. Our work was not to satisfy this, but simply to create the absence of violence and war. I’m sure you’re thinking of all sorts of problems with my simplified version of this philosophy, but I assure you it was well conceived and has far more complex roots than a mind such as yours could work through. And we felt very confident about taking it before the Council. We knew the Council representatives wouldn’t be eager to embrace our philosophy, because there would be debate about what authority should be supreme. The Almighty? The Council? Would this peace not immediately necessitate war to take control over the population? So many factors had to be considered. But this is just the prologue to a greater struggle that I came upon.
“Before we managed to present our case, I became deeply troubled. It seemed strange that my logic had wound me around to existing under the Almighty’s supreme control. I couldn’t help but wonder if this was some sort of universal law or if the Almighty had designed us to think this way? Was it just that He had placed this philosophy in our minds so that we would not transgress against Him? But if that was so, how was the Leader able to leave Him? Or were we able to transgress, but still know that the only right way was under His control? For years, I contemplated this idea in the privacy of Heaven’s Jara Library, created specifically for our committee. How in control of our thoughts were we? Could we, couldI, be trusted to decide how peace could come about? I determined I wasn’t. We must’ve been wrong. There must’ve been more.
“But try as I did, I couldn’t see another way, and I started to perceive my very existence as flawed.”
She looked at Treycore, her expression suggesting she’d just realized something very important. “I know that must be hard to consider, but I felt disgusting. We were wrong. Everything was wrong. As I met with Tekker and Dissapha, I just kept seeing error and imperfection. I even started questioning their forms, our forms. Did their legs and arms need to go there? Or was that just where the Almighty had decided they should go? It seems like an odd question to ask now, but at the time, it made perfect sense. And I hardly had any question about my approach as I was severing Dissapha’s arms and legs. Surely, by taking them apart, I could find the answer. Isn’t that the heart of logic and reason? Taking things apart?
“I was certain this would help me reach my conclusion… and ultimately, reach our conclusion about peace. This was certainly more important than sparing Dissapha’s life… or Tekker’s. Shouldn’t he have felt thrilled to be a part of my great revelation… rather than horrified about the end of his existence? Unfortunately, my experiment didn’t offer any solid conclusions, and the Council ended our committee… or what was left of it.”
Her eyes lit up and she put her hand to her face like she was about to stifle a giggle. “It sounds insane when I tell it now, but it made so much sense then. I must’ve forgotten some important part of it.”
Her version had concerned Treycore far more than brought him relief because it wasn’t so different from the story he’d heard before his arrival. She was, as all accounts had assured him, insane. Yet so much of her seemed as it had been before the moment she recounted. So much reminded him of the creature he’d been so enchanted by for so long. Still, little besides her beauty captivated his attention now.
“That’s the story of why I’m here,” she continued, “which brings us back to our real question—why are you here? Since I saw you, I’ve been pillaging my memory and thoughts for an answer, but I can’t seem to come up with anything that makes sense. I suppose the wisest decision would be to turn the floor back to you, yet I feel I should find a way to keep speaking, if only to keep you wanting a moment to vocalize your own request. I feel I have the right to keep you in such miserable suspense. But I won’t. I’m hoping whatever tragedy you’ve come here to tell me about is enough to sate my vengeful spirit.”
Since he feared she might not give him another opportunity to speak, he was quick to reveal his mission. “I’m looking for a way to Hell.”
