Xana walked the halls of the Silver Pyramid. She passed the throne room, feeling the smoothness of the walls with her fingertips. Her heels resounded wherever she stepped, they clacked full of dominion.
She left the throne room and entered the crypt, where family had been buried. Silver statues of them had been constructed over the graves of each of them. She beheld, much to her distaste, her grandmother's cruel eyes and curled lips. No.
She wanted to return to her bed and hide beneath her sheets, but her legs wished elsewise. They moved of their own will towards her grandmother's grave. Xana fought to turn away and run from there. She couldn't, her body was not hers any longer. Her hands touched Xanarona’s grave, her eyes were enchanted to see her cruel eyes, her lips curled with the same arrogance. Xana was within herself. She, however, had no control beyond her thoughts. Her feet moved still of their own accord, leaving the crypt and starting again to the halls.
Silver so shimmery, Xana saw her reflection on the walls: face wrinkled, back hunched, phalanges bare-boned.
She screamed, returning to herself—her true self, imprisoned in her home. She was dreading moving her hands, afraid they would not obey. Finally, she lifted a finger, panting. She raised her forearm and soon, the whole hand. Her legs obeyed her now, her neck too. She sat up and looked round. She wasn't hunched or bony or ageing.
She went to the balcony and saw the silver instrument she had destroyed the previous dusk. She was losing control, little by little. She climbed the iron rails. Is this it? She considered the height of the fall. You have lived a good life, Xana. You can see the whole world.
“But if I jump, I'll not die. I will be in pain but I will not die.” You can see the whole world. “But…” You can see the whole world. She alighted the rails and slumped back into bed. She got out a paper screen, pierced her skin with her pen and with the blood she wrote:
In very little time you'll be a different person. Don't be afraid; don't cower.
The wound shut itself. She stabbed at it again and let the blood leak onto the table. She proceeded dipping her pen in blood and inscribed on the screen:
Don't forget who you are. And don't forget to kill them: Nara, Bulma, Aqna, Dy'Anne, Xanfeil. Write to your brothers when you see this. Write to House Loran too. Tell them to expose the Steelhouse. Write to your friend, Ilyana, she knows you inside out. Tell her to expose the soul that will soon harbour your body. Tell her to reveal it to everyone…
When the blood had dried, she cut at herself again.
...that the soul of her grandmother resides in you. When you see this again, Xana, you must bring everything down. Take your last stand!
“Xana.” She heard her name, and in answer swirled round, afraid.
“Xana.” She heard again. “Don't fight it, Xana. Don't fight. We’ll become one. Both of us. We’ll be together.”
“Shut up!” Xana screamed as she scribbled more words. “Shut up! Shut up! Shut up!” She slurred the words. Her righg hand moved of its own volition and flung the pen across the room. She gentled the rebel hand with her good arm.
She stood to retrieve her pen but one leg teetered in the opposite direction. Then, she crawled with her last ounce of strength, heaving and coughing.
“Xana. Don't fight me.”
“Shut up.”
Her right hand scratched her face till she bled, her right leg wiggled in crooked, dangerous positions. She did not stop until she held the pen in her hands. Then, she stuck herself everywhere till she gained complete control. She was spread out on the ground, exhausted and hungry. Strangely hungry.
She jolted up now that she could move, panicking in search of somewhere to hide her letter.
“You can see through my eyes can't you?” There was no reply. But she wouldn't risk it. So she put her message in a prism-shaped postbox only she and her friend, Ilyana, knew the pattern to and hid it in one of her top cabinets.
She fell trying to get down and hit the back of her head hard. Xana remembered the first ever time she saw a travel basket, and heard the iron-swoosh of the plates as they unfurled.
“What is that?” Young Xana had asked a man standing beside her. In this memory, the man’s face was blurred but his voice was somewhat familiar.
“It's a travel basket, Xanarona.”
“What do they do, father?”
“They travel to far places”
“There are many of them.” Young Xana said. There were six of them arranged in the sky. Some people sat on the edge of the baskets, chains around their necks.
“Why are they sitting there? They would fall.” Young Xana complained.
They were suddenly pushed off, left to dangle by their necks and kicking their feet till they became still.
“Father!” Young Xana hid her face in her father’s clothes.
“It's okay Xanarona. They were executed for treason, against the Iron Capital. Come inside.” The man carried her in his arms.
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These are not mine. Xana whimpered. These are not my memories. Someone entered her room and set a bowl of food on a stool. She did not see his face but said, “Wait…help me.” He kept on his way.
“Xanarona, what are you doing?”
“I told you not to come in, father.”
“I was worried. You haven't left your room in a long time.”
“Because I am working and don't want any disturbance.”
“Come and eat with me. I have something for you.”
“I said, I am working!” Xanarona stopped sawing off the bone of the corpse before her. She sighed, “Forgive me father. I am just trying to get things done.”
She smiled and pecked him on the cheek. “I’ll join you after I clean. Wait for me in the dining hall.”
She slipped off her gloves, uncovered her head and removed her apron. She cleaned herself with Blackstone, put up her hair in a fine knot and joined her father.
“You like silver batter from the bottom clouds, don't you?” He passed her a bowl. “I had Colwene harvest it specially for you.”
“Thank you.”
After some mouthfuls, Xanarona asked, “Father, why do we pay taxes to the Iron Capital? Why do we have their Affiliate hung everywhere in our grand study?”
“What do you mean?”
“The ruler of the Iron Belt came here two stars ago, you bowed to him but he did not bow to you. Why?”
“It has always been like this Xana. The Iron Belt sends us its metals. It is why we can build our terminals, our houses, our baskets.”
“Why is it called the Silver Belt then?”
He did not answer.
“Because we use a lot of silver? Because we have silver stashed away somewhere? Or because they are using us as their labour guild to harvest impure and muddied silver just to send all the good bits to them? We are merely delegates with more land.”
“They put us here. They gave us everything.”
“They gave us everything because your father was a coward during the War of the Belts. He betrayed the family he served.”
“If he hadn’t betrayed those fools where would we be? I will tell you, Xanarona. I would have been slaving away in some useless terminal and you, training to be a cook or worse even a Waste girl!”
Xanarona threw her plate across the room and stormed out.
Xana shivered on the floor, grasping what was left of her sanity. You can see the whole world. You can see the whole world, Xana. Her eyes tweaked on and off, between light and dark. She was past, present, and future. She saw Xanarona’s throbbing heart in the midst of flayed flesh. And with each beat, she was less herself.
“Xanarona.” Xanarona's father managed to rasp on his deathbed.
“Surprise, Father. I came to see you.” It wasn't a smile on her face. It was… nothing. No emotion whatsoever. Even her words were bland. “Let me see your heart.” She shut her eyes and projected her father's heart. It was merely beating. She let the display hover close to her own heart.
“You know that I loved you despite everything?”
Her father's breath was hoarse and effortful. He mumbled words that she did not hear. She edged closer. “What did you say, father?”
“Kill… me.”
“I will. I will. Don't you worry. I will." What is disappointment now? Was she nerve-racked? "I just want to tell you what I have planned for the Belt before we get to that.” She sat. “I want to build a Pyramid, several feet tall. A stepped Pyramid. During ceremonies, the the throne room would rise, so that every one would see me rule as Empress. Then I will build a Steelhouse, just by the Deep. The Drafts will produce real silver this time and we will trade with whomever wishes to trade with us. I'll throw the Affiliates into the Deep. I'll change our method of ruling the Belt, every terminal will have to report directly to the Drafts. I can see these things before me. Though there is one thing left." She stood, pacing the room. "I want to live forever, Father. It might sound wishful but I want to rule this world father. I want to bring light to people. I want to love and be loved… I cry sometimes before I sleep because it rubs me the wrong way—the fact that I would die. But I have made friends, father. I have seen the world and I have made friends. Friends who also want me to live forever.”
"I deserve to be happy," she mumbled this part to herself.
She brandished a knife. “When Colwene told me you were sick five stars ago, I was not happy. I loved you, as awful as that sounds. I couldn't help it. Then, I sat down to ask myself whether it was really love? I never got an answer. But seeing you now. I have realised it wasn't love, it was pity.” She laughed. “Pity.” She laughed again till she cried. “I think of you very often. You can ask, Colwene. I ask her about you all the time.”
Xanarona's father croaked even more.
“I will get to killing you. Be patient!” She snapped. “I have more to say.”
She stood and rubbed her stomach. “I am pregnant, father. For your granddaughter. Her name would be Xanfeil."
He wheezed again.
“Fine, I'll kill you.” She raised the knife, wanting to bury it in his heart. She couldn't; the knife fell at her feet. Her father's projected heart still beat on hers. And her silver tears rolled down her eyes to wet it. She kissed her father on his head and said, “Sleep well.”
She went away.
Xana opened her eyes. She could not move and she had stopped fighting the process. She lost, she knew it. You can see the whole world. You can see the whole world. You can see the whole world. There was movement in her room. A woman was dressing up in her clothes, combing down her hair with her brush, looking into her mirror, lying
on her bed, using her Blackstone, sitting on her stool, eating her food. You can see the whole world. You can see the whole world, Xana.
And Xana asked her, “Who are you?”
The woman, blurred, tall and towering, walked over to her and said, “I am Xana, daughter of Xanfeil, Empress-designate of the Silver Belt. Who are you?”
“Who am I? Who am I? Who am I?” Xana repeated. She looked at the shadow of the woman looming over her and asked, “Who am I?”
The woman watched her for a second or two and walked away towards the balcony till Xana could no longer see her.
Xana took her final breath.