“The show is silent,” Velanthe explained.
“Because you all know it already, but what about me?”
Her aunt stared at the sky and said nothing.
Laxius was kissing and tickling the infant’s cheeks, marveling over its tiny fingers. He lifted him. A boy.
Esguards swarmed in. Laxius clutched the baby to his chest. His mouth moved in frantic pleas as the child was ripped away. She read his lips, between other protestations, No, not him. Not again.
Laxius sobbed and fought the esguards as he was brutally restrained, but all he could do was scream his sorrow as his son was taken.
Murmurs of sadness passed along those watching. Elloven’s hands drifted to her face.
The scene shifted. Laxius was again alone, but the chair was gone. Two new people appeared, both of whom Elloven recognized, though they were much younger, Estelar and Velanthe. Words flew between them in rapid fire, too fast and overlapping for her to read, and it made her anxious to watch. Laxius screamed, and thunder rippled the scene, knocking away the others. He raised his hands to the sky and howled.
A flicker of orange light blinked as Velanthe relit her pipe.
Sky Velanthe stepped forward. Something appeared in her hand, a large ball that swirled with color, like it was made of magic itself. You knew the rules, her lips said.
The real Velanthe whispered, in time with her doppelgänger, “You of time could have loved anyone. Anyone but chaos. This is a fate of your making. There can be no absolution, only what must come next.”
Sky Estelar spun away. His posture was reluctant, but Velanthe laid a hand upon his shoulder, and he turned back with a curt, decisive nod.
The scene shifted. Laxius stood upon the edge of a great chasm, a soul lumen in one shaking hand. Velanthe and Estelar chanted in unison, and Laxius went soaring into the abyss. Velanthe surged forward to catch his lumen before it could go with him.
Estelar handed Velanthe the glowing ball, which she accepted, though unhappily.
“I don’t understand,” Elloven whispered. “You killed him?”
“It was out of our hands. When he defied destiny, he decided his own end.”
“What, though? What choice?” Elloven’s fevered pitch rose with her pulse.
“You asked where your father was. He’s in the Infinita Mori, with so many other souls.”
“Estelar said he was...”
“Resting. A wistful notion. We all pray he has found his peace in death.”
“Why...” Elloven needed a moment to collect herself. “Why would Estelar not just tell me that? Why would no one tell me?”
“I was asked to show you, Aelloven,” Velanthe said reluctantly. “Estelar and the others can’t bring themselves to witness this.”
“But you can?”
Velanthe tilted both palms out.
“And you were the pretor when this happened?”
“Curatrix is the title we give women,” Velanthe said. “I had no aspiration for it, so I passed the riven sphere to Estelar. He was always the most suited for power... a shame he could not have been the one to start with it.”
Even as intoxicated as she was, Elloven understood Velanthe was telling her more than she should. “You don’t like either of your brothers, do you?”
Her aunt laughed again. “I never have. Though, Laxius was born a fool, and he cannot be blamed for that, if nothing else.”
Elloven was more wary of Velanthe than any of the others, but even those who would mislead could provide color to a monochromatic problem. “You sentenced your brother to years of purgatory. He can’t even move on.”
“A fate we will all face eventually.”
