The world was dead.
Asphodel lurked below, a smoking
cinder in space, a blackened husk of a world at the end of eternity, lit not by
the sun, but by The Light itself. It was
the last of the line of worlds stretching down the Axis of Eternity from Earth all
the way outwards to The Light. If Refi’s
message from the blessing stone was to be believed, this had been the home world
of the Seraphim. Yet as Will looked down
upon it from orbit, it was impossible for him to imagine that anything had
lived there, ever.
When Will had seen the planet for
the first time, through the images in the blessing stone, he had thought it was
Hell. Nothing he was seeing now
dispelled the impression. Even from
orbit, the brutality of it was surreal. From
the edge of the mist, miles up, he could see a web of glowing rivers of lava
stitching together fragile plates of soot-stained planetary crust. Above Will, the heartlights of souls streamed
past, chasing one another into The Light.
Here and there, in the distance, a predatory psychovore sought to chase
them down. With such abundant prey so
readily available, Will doubted any of them would even notice him.
Scanning the horizon, Will saw
another heartlight hovering at the edge of the planet’s atmosphere. Again and again, it plunged into the mist, only
to be repelled. One of Ammerman’s men. He was reminded of a moth, banging over and
over against the glass of a lantern, drawn by irrepressible instinct, seeking
its own immolation, yet unable to achieve it.
Ramesh? he wondered.
Milton? Takashi?
Which are you? And how long have
you been slamming yourself against this brick wall? How many weeks or months of self-torture, all
for the sake of helping others, of restoring memories? The Light is right here,
so close you can almost touch it. Yet
you deny yourself, choosing instead this cycle of pain. For you, this really is Hell.
He looked down again at the
planet’s surface. Somewhere far below
him, fire blossomed in a mighty eruptive plume; the scale of it must have been
unimaginable by Earth standards, a hundred Krakatoas. What must the air be like? What could breathe down there? And…I intend to go into that? Willingly?
Whoever’s
soul that is over there, hammering away at the STYX, I have no business
accusing him of being insane. I proved
my own insanity the moment I drank from that flask.
This
was a terrible idea.
Will. His
soul resonated to the sound of the voice; his mind was full of fire. Will. You have come at last. My congratulations. You have overcome many hardships, suffered
much, to arrive here.
Refi?
That
is correct, Will. You are he to whom I
referred in my Holy Gift. You are he who
shall redeem the shame of the People of the Ten Directions. It is you who shall restore what was lost to
humanity, you who shall open the way to full enlightenment.
The Seraph was not physically
present, yet somehow it was with him, in his mind, a glorious inferno drowning
out all else, rendering conscious thought almost impossible. It was, unmistakably, a creature of The Light.
Refi…who
am I? Where do I come from? What was I, before?
Your
answers lie below, Will, on Asphodel.
Only by untangling the strands of the skein can you restore what was
lost to you, can you know yourself fully.
I promise, Will, the answers await you…
Can’t
you just tell me?
I
could attempt to explain, Will. But the
reality is…complicated. And there are
those who would seek to deceive you, Will.
Seek proof, Will; do not settle for a thing so fragile as “trust”. At the Skeinhall, you will find truth through
revelation, truth beyond doubt―the
truth of memory. Your own memories,
Will. All the memories of your life,
complete, unexpurgated.
And
everyone else’s memories? They’ll regain
them?
Every
human soul on Elysium, Will. When you
untangle the skein, you will bring down the veil of the STYX both on Asphodel
and on Earth. My race’s great mistake will
be undone. That which separates human
souls from their earthly memories will vanish.
Things will be as they were meant to be, as they should have always
been.
But
you said the Styx veiled human sight, too.
Does that mean that people on Earth will be able to see souls as well?
Souls,
yes, but also so much more. All veils
shall be lifted from human sight, Will.
Your intervention will change the world.
Man has been cheated for far too long.
There is so much for you to know, so much for us to show you. But beware…I am not the only one of my kind,
Will. There are many among the seraphim
who would seek to deny enlightenment to yours.
The physical presence of Seraphim on Elysium is forbidden―not
by the STYX, but by other means. But their
methods are subtle, their strategies indirect.
Remember, it was traitors among the seraphim who made the STYX.
You must rely upon your inmost nature to reject their lies, to defeat
their agenda.
Will smelled brimstone, tasted
metal on his tongue. In his mind, Refi
blazed, shading from crimson to orange to gold.
Would that I could explain fully. I cannot know for certain what challenges you
will face, and were I to explain the skein to you before you lay eyes on it, it
would do you no good. When you reach it,
I will do my best to aid you, but the knowledge that already lies locked inside
you should be sufficient. But the first
steps will be the hardest. I trust you
have a means of passage beyond the STYX?
I…do. Sort of. And Will did,
indeed, have a plan. Will knew what
Ammerman had been hinting at when he’d suggested that, for a person with the
ability to incarnate on cue, there might be a way. It was immensely, spectacularly insane―but it
was a way.
It
will have to serve. Know this,
Will: when you enter into the STYX, my
glory will be dimmed in your mind. You
will be open to the voices of the liars, those who seek to deny enlightenment
to your people. You must be firm in your
purpose. Trust always in that which is
your core. Trust to your questions, and
to your demand for answers! Let nothing
deter you. I will help you, where I
can. But it is you, Will, and you alone,
that can lift the veil.
The
Skeinhall. How will I find it?
I
have guided your steps to this point, Will.
It is directly below you on the surface of Asphodel. But beyond this point, I can only advise. Trust yourself, Will…
Will gathered his wits about him. He drifted lower, and lower, into the fringes
of the electric mist. There was the
itch, permeating him from the inside out.
There was the powerful, repulsive force of the barrier, pushing against
him. But he was no longer the
weak-willed soul-infant he’d been on Earth.
Events on Elysium had hardened his willpower, reforged him. Will felt the barrier push against him, and
he pushed back…
Lower still, and lower. His momentum was slowing. He was at the extreme edge of his abilities;
the toxic fog suffused him, the unscratchable itch driving him to the brink of
madness.
I’m
well within the atmosphere by now,
he thought. And atmospheric gases consist of physical matter. When my body draws in matter for incarnation―how
wide a field can it draw from? Almost
two hundred pounds of air…how much space does that fill?
I’m
guess I’ll find out.
Will allowed his mind to drift. He seized upon a question.
Who
am I?
There was a moment of resonance, as
the air around Will was sucked inwards to a single point, the widely dispersed
atoms drawing together, forming new molecules, densely packed, no longer gases,
but a solid mass, the shape of a human body.
Miles
above the surface of Asphodel, Will incarnated.
No comments:
Post a Comment