“The necromancers are never properly afraid of anything.” Stef chuckled and returned to his chore. “Particularly when they damn well should be.”
Elloven had fallen straight from the Night Soul into an energized sense of purpose. Jesstin was there, in the Infinitum, and the reckless, obstinate man had found her!
There was still so much unresolved, but looking to the past wouldn’t tell her where to go. They had a plan. The part where he believed he could... resurrect her was a fantasy, but seeing him again, touching him, hugging him...
Kissing him. Almost. Elloven’s belly retracted as she followed the rutted road toward Magna Annalis. She couldn’t believe she’d done that. Her emotions had been running hot. Neither of them seemed capable of the resentment they’d parted with in the mortal realm, but it was still there, and she’d be a fool to assume he wasn’t holding onto his own, no matter what he’d said last night.
Light moved from left to right like the wind had carried it. The sky erupted with lightning. She ducked off to the side of the path just as a burst of rain hammered the ground, but the edges of the forest canopy offered minimal relief, and she was closer to the Nemus than she was comfortable. She fastened her hood tighter right as a group of children ran by like giddy sprites, arms spread, welcoming the soak. She almost laughed with them, but her good humor dissolved as they passed. They may be gleeful children, but they were still dead children.
She’d just knelt to secure her laces when something gentler dusted her boots and sleeves. Snow. The hail would be next—maybe. Storms in the Infinitum lasted as long as they pleased. Seconds. Hours. Days. Back when she’d stayed at her first cloister, she’d picked up a number of useful anecdotes, and she had no idea how many were true, but one man had theorized that the precariousness in weather patterns, in time cycles, and even in season shifts, which she had yet to experience, were the acts of a deliberate terrorist and not quite the random event some claimed.
One day had been especially hot, and on a whim, she’d tried to summon the ice and cold intentionally, rather than just as a fear response. She discovered, though, that her magic had no power at all there. It belonged to where she’d come from. Only those reigning in Imperator Hall, the ones who set the laws and who turned souls into ghouls to enforce them, had any preternatural power. Comprised of former kings, queens, lords, ladies, pretors, curatrices, and others, they had been chosen for their role by manner of birth rather than merit.
But her father—her real father, Laxius of Rivenholde—would most likely be there. Speedman, her custodian across the Desidero, knew who she was and had asked, somewhat snidely, if she’d intended to take up residence with the other nobles in their red-tipped towers. If you do, maybe you say a word or three about the conditions in the Mori, eh? Maybe you remind them we’re not their toys.
I don’t understand any of what you mean, she’d said in protest, but even if she had understood, she’d still been in a state of shock from her sudden, brutal death.
I see you’re no different. Fortunately for you, I came to this place with my morals intact, and they mean something to me. So I’ll tell you all you need to know to ‘survive’ this hellscape, which is more than your ilk would ever do for us.
Were Elloven brave enough, she could approach this denizen of power and demand answers no library would ever offer. It was near the Magna Annalis, according to the signs, and she had weeks of patience waiting ahead of her. Jesstin was certainly determined enough to cheat time, but it didn’t mean he could do it. Meeting her father—getting to know the man she’d watched persecuted in the sky—was exquisitely tempting. Maybe... Maybe he’d even know how to find Gennady.
Her supposed “real mother” might be somewhere in the Infinitum too. She didn’t know if there was any truth to Esme not being her mother, but the idea Esme would steal her and Gennady away was incomprehensible.
She would find Gennady though, even if it took her a thousand years.
On her first night, she’d asked a kind woman how she might go about doing that, and the woman had said, If you find out, will you tell me? I’ve been looking for my husband for nigh a century now. Everyone else just told her to be patient.
Elloven braved the road again just as the hail began. Next could be more snow, or perhaps the gods would kick up a dust storm. It was always anyone’s guess. But behind the chaos, illumina edged lightrise into the past, and she needed to find a new havre before twilight arrived.
The road, sparsely populated when she’d started out several hours ago, had filled with people of all ages. Some moved in packs; others alone, like her. Aside from her reunion with Jesstin, she hadn’t had a proper conversation with anyone since those first few evenings in the cloister. Most factions and cliques had formed from the innate desire for connection, a need just as strong in the afterlife. She smiled at them as she passed, until her face ached with grief. Some even returned the gesture, but their bodies were angled away, their intentions already written. Though she held her smiles, they were all, even the ones she meant sincerely, products of her adaptability.
The crowds thinned when she split off at a fork that directed her toward the power center of the netherworld. There were no sigils marking the path anymore, at least not the way she was walking. She passed several signs advising there were no havres, cloisters, or places of commune that way either, and she was reminded she still didn’t understand distance in the Infinitum at all. Magna Annalis could be an hour ahead, or days. The thought of being stranded or exposed, without the protection of the symbols to guide her to safety, made her decide to turn back, until she practically ran into the massive gates.
She certainly hadn’t seen them on the approach. It was like they’d materialized while she was debating what to do. The strange metal was a deep, unsettling crimson, not dull like rust but gleaming. Gritty but solid. The bars stretched so high as to be ridiculously unnecessary and wrapped as far to the left and right as her vision reached. A serrated sign, tied into the metal, read, For procession into the Estate of the Imperatum. All other intentions unwelcome. Our toleration for deception exists not.
Everything about the gates, the sign, and the energy was urging her to leave, but she couldn’t be certain the next day would offer her better circumstances, and she was already there. The odds of the library offering something seemed less hopeful than they had when she’d thought of it, but what if there was something they could use? Both she and Jesstin had been misled. Only he was deluded enough to believe he could save her, but her concern was getting him home. What if he found the door for the dead, but not one for himself? What if the dead moved on and he, the sole living survivor, was trapped in the Infinitum, alone, for eternity?
She’d stay with him, if it came to it. Or try anyway.
Maybe the answer was inside Magna Annalis, and maybe it wasn’t, but if Jesstin could cross from the living realm to find her, she could step through some bars for him.
The thick metal moaned with the weight of its parting before she could even make contact. She looked around, sensing she was being watched, but didn’t see anyone.
You’ve endured far more disturbing things than a gate and some dead nobles, she told herself and stepped through.
The old sign rattled as the gates clanged shut behind her.
Jesstin liked the Infinitum much more in the daytime. The trees were no longer out to get him, and the courtyard didn’t feel like a wartime infirmary. It all appeared quite normal, aside from the violet streaks cutting through the bands of light bathing the stones and the fact that, despite the warmth that had greeted him upon exiting the cloister, it was snowing.
Six roads jutted out from the cloister in an array. At the end of the courtyard was a crossroads sign, one like he’d seen at points along the Compass Roads. Words had been etched into flat arrows indicating directions, but there were also mile indicators on the couple of dozen markers, all jammed on top of each other in a chaotic cluster.
Forum Obscura, 2 terrestrial miles, 1.5 avian miles. Next one, 84 and 76.
Imperator Hall & Magna Annalis, 405 terrestrial miles, 389 avian miles.
Felsswan Quarter, 14 terrestrial miles, 12 avian miles.
Yesterday’s Whispers, 67 terrestrial miles, 64 avian miles.
