Chapter LXXX

Blood's Tale (Part II)

Adriaas' grandfather took a deep breath, stared at the sky, and returned to his narrative. "As I mentioned earlier, Yzenia shared a unique bond with Annevan that I could never rival. They understood each other in ways I couldn't grasp. My senses were too dull to perceive him as she did."

Bitlan's voice carried a tinge of sorrow. "There was a word we frequently used when our species was mortal—'old.' But as we embraced synthesis, it gradually vanished from our vocabulary. In Sectum, we are closer to Homo Sapiens than to Homo Synthesicus, our kin. The Xtracter removes every aspect of our synthesis except for aging. It speeds up to a certain degree but not enough to kill us of age before reaching two centuries. Were you aware of that?”

Adriaas shook her head in affirmation, indicating her awareness.

"It's part of the punishment. We will never die a natural death in Sectum. If we deserve it, they will let us decay here for decades, which is arguably better than Eslavia."

"You've been to The First Country?" Adriaas was both impressed and fearful, knowing it was considered the closest thing to hell on Malkuth.

"That's where my journey in Sectum began. It took a lot out of me during the seventeen years I spent there," Bitlan said, his hands thrumming with the dirt. "It broke me in ways that made me think my time was near, but I endured, knowing that every choice was driven by love," his voice tinged with nostalgia. "After Yzenia turned three hundred, she decided to move on to the next dimension. Her decision to leave her physical body behind allowed her to experience extra-dimensionality."

Curiosity sparked within Adriaas, and she asked, "How old are you?" To her, Bitlan appeared to be in his sixties.

"I maintained the appearance of a thirty-year-old for centuries," he responded, his tone somber. "My aging has doubled since I became an extarri. I'm three hundred and sixty-three."

He was the oldest person she’d met.

"How long have you been here?"

"Forty-three years, with about fifty-six left," he responded.

She didn’t speak, imagining the inferno of that life.

"Anyway, why are we talking about this?" Bitlan mused, gazing at the flowing water before answering his own question. "Ah, yes, age. These wrinkles aren’t going anywhere. Let me tell you about Yzenia, the love of my life and one splendid soul. Some Malkuthians, after reaching a certain age, feel the need to transition to higher dimensions. It’s known as dimensional detachment, where they leave their physical bodies behind."

"Your grandmother was tired of this life. From our small family, your uncle Ennazil and Yzenia had an easiness to connect with their third eye. Their spirits would transcend to other dimensions through astral projection. I never understood what they spoke of when returning from their trances. For me, it was easier to enter a virtualis and get lost in a digital reality. The same was true for your father," Bitlan confessed with a hint of guilt. "He had a grudge about that. Once he discovered the genetic detail that hindered us, he told me my genes were furka about fifty-eight times before I was exiled. It’s understandable, really. Our logical brains struggle to connect with alternative states of being. That’s my side of the family."

Adriaas was intrigued. "Why do you have such precise number memorized?"

"My kabbalah granted me that record before my exile," the explanation came naturally.

"Huh, I never thought to ask Ion, my companion, for information like that," Adriaas admitted, realizing she had overlooked many details.

"You’ll have the opportunity. It’s an old person’s trait to analyze its own data," Bitlan assured her, reclining on the grass beneath them. "You do not know how fortunate you are with your sentence. Eleven years for hacking organs that could have potentially killed hundreds. Annevan must have pulled some strings."

"Not that I know of," Adriaas shared. "He had the power to save me and help me prove my innocence, but he chose not to."

Bitlan's laugh was sarcastic. "He was the one responsible for bringing me to Sectum."

Adriaas felt as though she had missed something important. "Explain."

"Yzenia fell ill with Synthevitya, a virus that causes DNA to reject any technorganic cells. It sped up aging before making her allergic to any technorganic technology. That included her Naadi, which naturally disappeared while her kabbalah had to be taken away as she became allergic to it. There was no cure, but disease progression could be delayed. Yzenia believed it was her time, a natural end. But your father disagreed."

If you encounter this narrative on Amazon, note that it's taken without the author's consent. Report it.

"Annevan found means to delay his mother’s deterioration, and he succeeded through various schemes, or so he thought. The woman I loved changed, and he didn’t realize," Bitlan’s tone carried eighty years of resentment. "He used his influence to spread rumors that your grandmother had Delirious Synesthesia on top of her Synthevitya. It’s a disease of his creation, claiming to affect twenty percent of Malkuthians in their third century by making them fall into depression. A narrative created to keep Yzenia in this realm, claiming advancements had been made towards finding a cure for Synthevitya. He stripped her of all credibility and assembled a team from Chesed, Tipheret, Chockmah, and Netzach to develop a cure, with the love of my life as the subject."

"The first time Yzenia decided to move on, Annevan opposed it. He convinced her to stay, and for a couple more decades, his persuasion worked. Fueled by emotional triggers and the promise of a bright future and a cure, she remained," Bitlan’s voice carried an unfixable sadness. "I was happy. We created many beautiful memories in those years. But over time, your grandmother’s longing to leave this dimension consumed her happiness."

"I knew she had attempted suicide three times, and my children told me there were more attempts. By then, my relationship with Annevan was nonexistent. I watched as Yzenia’s light dimmed day by day, her soul yearning to explore other realms of existence. After living for three hundred and twenty-three years, she came to me, her pain evident after decades of longing."

"'I care about you and have loved you more than anyone in this dimension,' she told me," Bitlan recounted, reliving the memory as if it had just happened. "'With my soul, dear love, I beg you to release me from my physical life and let my soul be free in higher dimensions. Annevan won’t allow me to reach it during the long sleep; he’s afraid of losing me. But I have to go. My soul no longer belongs here. Please, help me.'"

Adriaas understood and implied, "You did as she wished."

"I’d do everything again for her, without hesitation. She died happy and complete, on her terms." Bitlan’s words conflicted with his expression. "I never heard Yzenia speak with such certainty in the years we were together. It made me realize how selfish it would be not to honor her wishes. Annevan had done everything in his power to prevent your grandmother from reaching the Aeternum Terras. But there was nothing wrong with her." Sadness filled his eyes. "Her spirit was ready to depart from this reality, as most Malkuthians do. She was pushed far beyond what any of us should endure, and in the end, they couldn’t create anything to change her desires."

"How did grandma Yzenia die?" Adriaas asked, unable to contain her curiosity, wishing to have met her.

Bitlan paused, his gaze fixed on the flowing river, contemplating his memories. "She had planned it all, including making it look like an accident," he explained. "She prepared our levitator without sharing it with me, and we spent the entire night soaring above Malkuth. We ascended so high that her body couldn’t handle the lack of oxygen. She deliberately disabled the limitation in the ingravitas systems of the platform. By the time a gevurah reached us, it was too late. Suffocation. Annevan went mad. He saw me as the one who executed her when all I did was hold her hand during her transition. Decades later, he gained access to my birthcloud after submitting a thousand and six requests to the Table of Nine."

Adriaas speculated in her mind, piecing together the puzzle.

"I didn’t hear from Annevan for thirty years after his mother’s passing. When he finally reached out, it was to inform me of the joy he felt knowing that justice was knocking at my door. Moments later, two Gevurah appeared on my doorstep. The Sephirot discovered our entire plan and realized Yzenia could have survived, breaking Edictum Vitae. Apparently, Annevan found a cure to suppress those ‘depressive desires’ and delay Synthevitya even further. I was found guilty of second-degree murder, for not encouraging Yzenia to wait for a cure. I was also considered an accomplice to her death and guilty of attempting to destroy the cure for the Delirious Synesthesia." Bitlan's resignation was clear.

"How did he find a cure for a disease based on gossip?" Adriaas was confused.

"My theory is that his ‘solution’ suppresses the third eye and grounds the soul in this reality by doing some trickery to the pituitary gland."

"Is it wrong to do that?" Adriaas asked, deep in her thoughts.

"I don’t care. That’s beyond my days. Perhaps those afraid of dying will sacrifice their celestial side to live longer lives in the Third Dimension, but not your grandmother."

"I don’t blame you," Adriaas remarked, sensing peace in his demeanor. His eyes exuded a wisdom that spoke of a his accumulated lifetime. "You were kind to her. Your destiny was shaped by the paths of Kether, and there was no cure. You went with the flow while Annevan was driven by selfishness, as always."

"He used his persuasive tongue to manipulate the situation and secured the harshest sentence for me: a hundred years in Sectum," the old man seemed weary. "And I’m not even halfway through."

"How did you survive Eslavia?" Adriaas inquired, eager to uncover the missing pieces of his story. She had heard wild rumors about it from Gidit and Miveria, but they seemed too fantastical to believe.

"That’s a story for another time." Bitlan pulled his feet out of the water. "I’m hungry. We should head back to camp before anyone looks for us. We have tasks to complete, my dear."

Adriaas wisely chose not to press for further details choosing to be patient, she followed, Bitlan’s lead as she put on her sneakers and prepared for the walk back to the Medtent.

"Thank you for sharing. I won’t breathe a word to anyone."

"If you ever have children of your own, you have my permission to share with them the many stories your grandfather shared with you during your time as an extarri, cause there are more from we're that came from but they will come in due time." Bitlan said as he walked ahead.

Adriaas sensed an incredible energy emanating from him, happiness at having met his grandchild, who saw him as more human than most Malkuthians.

"Will you tell me how you ended up here on our way back?" He asked. "I read your file in the camp archive, and it’s clear that there are many missing pieces to the story."

****

Thank you for reading! See you in "Chapter LXXXI - Chesedin Internship"

If you can't wait and wish to continue, Patreon is running with up to 20 chapters (7ish weeks) ahead of RR release.

Please leave a follow, rate or review, these small gestures are huge for the story's success, and my sanity.

Your opinion matters 💫

Aequitas and much love,

Indigo Sapiens.

© All Rights Reserved