Chapter LXXXVI
What the Future Holds
After months of tension, Capahuento found itself in a crisis. The High Council was desperately trying to contain the unexpected weakening of their forces. Bitlan had a private discussion with Adriaas days after Miveria was transferred to Dictaduria. Her departure, earlier than Gruvin's, had sparked rumors of a reduced sentence.
Adriaas' grandfather met her at their familiar spot next to the caves, sitting by the river. The moon was high in the sky, casting its silvery light as the sounds of nature layered the air with complexity. As they approached the caves, Adriaas was bombarding Bitlan with questions.
"Last time, fifteen years passed between extraction seasons. This time, it's only been seven!" Bitlan exclaimed with noticeable exasperation as they neared the caves. "No one saw it coming."
"How long?" Adriaas had been dreading the thought of life without her grandfather.
"Until when?" He pressed for specifics.
"Until you have to leave, you know."
"I don’t know. I can't read minds. Why don’t you just ask me the whole question instead of half of it?"
Adriaas rolled her eyes. Bitlan expected a direct response. He demanded mental clarity from those he considered equals and often grew frustrated with evasive answers.
"Fine. When are you leaving, and which country will you be transferred to?"
Adriaas secretly hoped for Dictaduria.
"There's no escape from experiencing a dictatorship for me. My sentence got extended in both Eslavia and Imperia. It's given me a chance to plan. I might leave soon or might stay longer than you. What matters is that we keep working," Bitlan said, gazing at the sky, his future uncertain.
"Have you saved Onis for Dictaduria?"
"Of course. Why?" He was the first to reach the river.
"I haven't managed to," she confessed, not feeling hopeful about her prospects in that country. The whole situation with the extractions made her reflect on her own circumstances.
"There’s an account in your name. You've been earning Onis since you started working for our cause. Didn’t someone in administration tell you?"
"Wait, so how much money do I have?" Hope flickered in Adriaas.
"I'm no master accountant. Check tomorrow," Bitlan advised as he sat with his feet in the creek, enduring the cold water. "My path will begin a new journey but my concerns about this place will continue. What an irony."
"Are the Elkrachets coming?" Adriaas asked, as she did at every meeting.
"I doubt it. They're waiting for the extraction season to end and ambush Capahuento at its weakest."
"So, the rumors..."
"Fears overtaking sanity," Bitlan replied, unfazed. "We’ve forged the greatest alliance against the Elkrachets in Dictadurian history. My job is to maintain that status until my extraction and beyond. I suggest you do the same with your duties before you leave."
Adriaas sat down next to him, her face illuminated by the moonlight reflecting of the stream.
"What if you leave before I do?"
"What about it?" His tone was indifferent.
"Capahuento has remained strong thanks to the council’s leadership, and you’re essential for its stability. For my stability," she voiced her concern about how the camp might change after his departure. Since he had joined the Silver faction, everyone's life had improved.
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Bitlan smiled, touched by his granddaughter’s sincerity, aware of her innocence.
"You’re competent enough to survive," he reassured her. "You’ve built yourself up to this point, which makes you more capable than most. I understand your concerns, but know that my preparations have been decades in the making. My current job is nothing extraordinary. There’s a substitute for me in line, trained and ready—Alabel."
"I don’t have an opinion on her work, though I've heard she's truly capable."
"What’s that tone?" Bitlan looked puzzled.
"Why didn’t you choose me?" Adriaas' voice had a hint of annoyance.
"You don’t have fifteen years left in Imperia. Your focus needs to be on your goals for Dictaduria, not on trying to fill someone else’s shoes. Isn’t being Head Healer of Medcamp enough?" His amusement at her attitude was obvious.
"Don’t think I’m serious. I’m just jealous that Alabel gets to spend more time with my grandfather than I do," Adriaas confessed, half in jest.
"Don’t get greedy," he teased. "You’ll be tired of me in Dictaduria. I can’t guarantee it."
"Doubt it. Why would you say that?" Adriaas knew there was more behind his words.
"I’ll be training you," he revealed with a hidden grin, his expression serious. “Without the responsibilities of Capahuento I’ll be able to pour all my knowledge into you.”
"Do you think it’ll work? My skills are in healing, not warfare."
"I’ve heard otherwise. Don’t worry about what you aren’t. Focus on what you can be. There’s plenty to teach. Let's start by meditating."
Bitlan closed his eyes, focusing on the sounds around them.
"We’ve never meditated before."
"Do you know what day it is?" He ignored her question.
"September 19th. Fall has started," Adriaas remembered, thinking of Raxae who had changed their hair color to celebrate the occasion.
“Exactly, and that’s why we’re meditating. Vis is flowing with great intensity today. I’ve never been good at it, to be honest. Virtualis was my choice,” Bitlan said as he prepared for the ritual, shaping words and symbols in the dirt beneath their feet.
“Same with me, I can’t find the focus.” Adriaas closed her eyes with determination.
“We can’t fully connect with other dimensions with these watered-down versions of our bodies unless we make a genuine effort. It’s not a simple task to connect with yourself when your environment is so polluted by the negativity of our reality. Now, take a deep breath and be conscious of your inner self.”
Adriaas took his words with the required seriousness and composed herself, keeping her legs in the water and straightening her spine. She inhaled deeply, holding the breath for a moment, focusing her thoughts on the body that carried her every day.
“Keep your breath going,” Bitlan instructed gently. “In and out, while focusing on everything that happens inside those lungs.”
Adriaas followed his instructions, relaxing and continuing with the breathing exercise and feeling small waves of energy. Vis was palpable, even if her body couldn’t fully process it as a Homo sapiens. There were no distractions, however, clearing her mind from the myriad thoughts was a challenging task she strove to master.
“Be one with your breathing,” her grandfather interjected, helping her break through the mental barrier.
“I’m getting there. Let’s remain silent,” she responded, falling silent for what felt simultaneously like an eternity and mere a minute.
Adriaas struggled to reconnect with her higher self, but she maintained her focus.
“We can’t stay here all night. It’s been an hour,” Bitlan finally spoke, breaking the long silence.
“You’re kidding me!” Adriaas exclaimed, unable to believe it.
“It’s not my fault you fell asleep while meditating. I didn’t realize you had such talent,” he teased.
That explained the time distortion. Disappointed, Adriaas stood up and wiped her feet on the grass, realizing she had failed to reach a higher state of being.
“Were you expecting to achieve nirvana with the limitations of that body? On the first try?” Bitlan mocked her with a gentle tone.
“What if I did?” Adriaas asked, defiant.
“Then you would be setting yourself an unreachable standard, Dri. We are far from the advantages our birthright synthesis provides. Enhanced connection with technorganology provides the dimensional sensitivity needed to experience the universe. As mere extarri and with our genes, we can’t fluctuate with Vis like others would.”
“I could barely do it when I was malkuthian,” Adriaas admitted with resignation. “It’s not my thing.”
“This is just attempt number one out of thousands. Make it a part of your daily schedule, and by the time you reach Dictaduria, meditation should be second nature to you. That’s what I expect.”
“Challenge me if you want to lose,” Adriaas said as she laced up her boots, feeling encouraged and defiant.
Her provocation was well-received.
“Let’s see if you can keep up with that big mouth of yours,” Bitlan replied, matching her tone to challenge his granddaughter.
They walked away from the spot that had witnessed their transformation from estranged family members to confident allies. Her grandfather didn’t stay long after that conversation. Four months later, he was transferred. Unbeknownst to them, that meeting by the cave was their last there.
****
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