The dwelling of the Sensitives, where we convened, enhanced all the worst parts of me. My beacon of destruction.
When I entered The Assigner´s Hall, awaiting applause, or at least a warm welcome, I found nothing.
All the Sensitives of Tripolis, my beloved siblings, should have been there, preparing for our period of brief recreation.
The silver curtains draping the round Hall revealed all that I considered the Assigner´s greatest weaknesses. Vanity, materiality, narcissism. All the traits Cleo had in common with him.
While my siblings reveled in the shrine he built for us, an endless peaceful protectorate made of tellurian possessions – a silver floor that reflected our crude forms to us - lounges filled with life-granting, translucent Gore-Tex potions, love of extravagance and prominence that came from our superiority – I despised it. Maybe I just despised him and associated all his creations with this irreverent feeling – regardless.
I wasn't here for him. I was here for my brother.
"Ari?" My voice echoed through the hollow chamber.
When I began to think I'd spend the season alone, a ripple of warmth brushed against me. Vectra stepped forward, her dark-violet skin glowing faintly in the silver light. Lord Father's aide.
"Anchor," she said, calm and practiced. "Welcome."
"Vectra." I fought to keep my tone even. "Where is everyone? Where is my brother?"
"Which one?"
"You know which one."
"The Lord of Light is indisposed. The city has been cleared. The others are back at their posts."
Rage surged in me. The silver rings on her brows and lower lip stretched as she morphed her features into a dishonest smile. I could drop to my knees if Lasicus wasn´t in control of my emotions, muscling through the effort to keep me in check. She might have had her hands clasped together on her lap to project informality and friendliness, but she was struggling to be both the conduit for Las' power to manifest where he wasn't, and a grounding presence for me. I felt the vigor with which she managed it, slowly leaving her.
"Vectra, I will ask one more time," I said, casting an appeal rather than a threat. "Where is Areilycus?"
Las could have at least been here in person. Coward.
"He´s not well, dear." Vectra made one step towards me. I retreated. One step back.
"Why did he send him to Tripolis on the day of the storm?"
Vectra gestured toward the lounges. "Sit. Please."
"No." My voice cracked the silver dome.
The Hall quaked. Vectra could not shield objects, only minds. She would not unleash her power on me unless cornered.
"I don't know," she answered solemnly. "The Assigner does what´s best for each world under his care."
"Endangering a Sensitive who holds the worst of humanity in check is best for the worlds under his care?" My sarcasm was acid. I knew she hated irony—it bent against the grain of her essence. She winced.
"You care too much, Mila."
"We were told to treat each other as family."
"We are family," she countered. "On the most basic level. We share substance. But you—you gave them names, made it personal. Anchors are not meant for love."
Her words carried his cadence. I hated her more for it.
"Let me see him." My voice faltered. "Please."
The respect I had for her wisdom blinded me from focusing on what was most important.
"No Sensitive can go near him now. Especially not you, your essences are two entwined. If you touch him, you could break him. Or he could break you. And then Tripolis falls."
The Hall rang with silence. Too convenient that the Assigner was gone. He fled Millenia while Ari suffered, leaving Vectra to soothe me with half-truths.
"So he's… rotating." My chest ached as I said it aloud. "He can't settle in his body."
Vectra lowered her gaze. "The negative charge in the storm damaged his essence. He is trapped in flesh. Unstable."
There she stood, forged in determination to obey an order. And there I stood, obligated to anchor Tripolis´ core.
"Who is looking after him?"
"The Assigner has gone for help."
"Vectra."
The sound of her stilted breathing filled my sensory receptors. Where the Assigner saw the assistant, the mouth that dealt with unpleasant consequences that he tended to cause, I saw a friend who struggled to navigate the line between servitude and loyalty. who struggled to navigate the line between servitude and loyalty.
"Milada, there is nothing I can say. I had not been briefed on anything past the point of your brother's physical state. I´m sorry. You have to go back to Tripolis and await further instructions."
I winced. "You said worlds under the Assigner's care."
Vectra tilted her head by merely an inch. "Where are you going with this?"
"Hypothetically, if I brought Ari to a world outside of his care …"
"Anchor."
She wished for peace and obedience; I felt peace and resolution.
"Love is a powerful thing. A good thing. But too much of a good thing can kill you," she reasoned.
What a dangerously bad time to repeat her mantra to me. I looked at my friend, the one who stood between me and my family. Whatever decision I was going to make, it would be irreversible.
I looked at her—my friend, my gaoler—and made my choice.
I would never let Ari vanish into the silence of space.