Chapter 8: Stands a House

‘A palace built from bones,

Whose hidden treasures are:

Pride & contempt,

Unloyalty & death.’

My first thought was that I was dead. Time passed, and my second thought was that I was dreaming.

Whatever connection I had to shadows was amplified in this place. Thousandfold. Walking during the nighttime in Dagon enhanced my concentration to where I could hear someone around a corner. As I was now, I could probably smell them. Every minute detail jumped out at me. Everything that wasn’t there screamed at me.

This place was empty. Empty except for…that buzzing. It wasn’t noise. Noise was a wave of sound, and this thing was anything but. No. It was a feeling…similar to the one you got when you saw a misaligned piece of paper. I needed to realign it. But I couldn’t, which grated on my nerves. I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that I noticed it precisely because my senses were honed. It was like walking through the woods, a regular pureblood, then magically gaining night vision and detecting the predators stalking your every move.

I stood up. At least, I thought I did. There was no reference, no up, no down, only dark. But I strode through the dream space, trying to flee the droning gloom that hounded me. I walked and walked, and the void danced around me, followed me—more than the night ever had. My steps were silent in the blackness, but that awful clamouring stayed hot on my tail. Breathing heated my neck—

I swivelled in place.

Nothing.

There was nothing but my own mind playing tricks on me, and my mother's words rang in my head. 'There are things beyond shadows, Asha'. My chest started to burn, and my previous walking pace turned into a jog. Then I ran. I didn’t know where I was going; I couldn’t see. Yet I kept running.

The void was a patient hunter, though. It didn’t take off sprinting. It didn’t chase me. Didn’t have to because it was everywhere all at once. I’d take a turn on a whim, and it would be behind me as if it had been expecting me to do so.

When my lungs couldn't take it anymore, I bent over, hands on my knees and heaving like a dog. I caught my breath and moved my chin up. An image popped into my head, one that I couldn't get rid of, no matter how hard I tried. I squeezed my brows together and finally realised what was happening: I was looking at something.

There was a house in the distance.

Instead of the building's description swimming over the connection of my eyes with my brain, a sixth sense plastered them directly into my head. The decorations were simple and smooth. Whoever owned it was not here to impress others, and a chimney was the only thing stopping me from calling the structure a hut. Smoke a shade of deeper black than the surroundings billowed through the roof-opening in waves.

The abode pulled on me like a whirlpool. I let it haul me forward, a part of my mind cringing backwards. Why was I edging towards the creepy house in the middle of an even creepier setting?

Well, where else am I supposed to go? Besides, I’m dreaming. What’s going to happen?

I stopped in front of the door. What now? Did I just knock? Indecisiveness struck me for some time before I took a breath and rasped my knuckles. Wood groaned as the door creaked open. It opened slowly, like the door of a haunted house in a film, and for an instant, the drumming of my heart deepened. I could still turn away. I could still run.

The decision was taken from me. A face peeked from behind the frame, half hidden by the entrance. The visage sent a chill striding down my upper back. I’m fucking dead. I’m so fucking dead—

Come in. The words chimed into my mind. In complete contrast to the appearance, the tone was inviting, so much so I found it hard to refuse. Literally and figuratively. My feet moved on their own. Marble, warm to the touch, lined the floor inside.

Even in my state of angst, I couldn’t help but think I had been right. Calling the home a hut did the interior more justice than calling it a house. A kitchen on my left was fitted with ordinary spatulas and utensils. On top of the fireplace in the middle stood a pot of boiling liquid, which must've been the source of the smoke, given how dark it was. And right in front of the fireplace stood two chairs with a table in between. Two cups were already set.

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The door shut. The atmosphere clicked in place, and air curled around me, setting on my shoulders.

“I hope you like tea.”

This time, the voice didn’t magically appear in my top. The pitch was a woman’s, soft, almost as if her words regretted disturbing the space through which they travelled.

“Always,” I said.

I was in a small room with a stranger at least four heads taller than me. So, what possessed me to respond that way? I didn’t know. But I had meant it.

The woman strode past me. Her skin was pale, her hair grey, contrasting sharply with the monotonous white robe that she was wearing. Despite her size, her steps were light. I could lift her with a single finger, I thought to myself. Though it made no sense logically, I believed it.

She bent over to lift the pot from the fire and used a ladle of a material I couldn’t name to pour our drinks.

“Please, take a seat.”

I did. From my seat, I watched her movements closely and lost myself in their rhythm. The fabric around her wrist pulled back enough to show the outline of an armband but not enough to reveal the piece of jewellery to the light, my senses. A single strand of her hair jutted in front of her closed eyes. It dangled, swaying to a melody only it could hear.

Though most opponents I fought in the ring were shorter than me, there were some I needed to look up at. I never feared them. They had longer reach, true, but their size made them clunky and easy to manoeuvre around and strike. The lady was taller than even the tallest of my opponents. Yet I could use only one word to describe her: graceful. And finally, I understood why I was so at ease despite the situation. Her presence, her essence, was alluring, much like the cosiness of the house.

She finished pouring, and the aroma dug into my nose. Unprompted, the colour of chocolate and the rough texture of bark usurped my thoughts.

“What is this called?”

“Darqi.” The name washed over me like a faint breeze. “Named after the energy source found within the Darqi trees of an ancient forest to the far east.”

I blew on it, then took a sip. Viscous, honey-like, the drink dragged down my throat. I let out a contented sigh. It was hot but not scalding and warmed me deep into my stomach.

“The far east,” I said. “Where are we?”

“Nowhere in particular.”

She put her cup down and resumed before I could question further.

"This is a void space, so you won't find this place on any realm chart. I only mentioned 'the far east' because it fits my sense of direction."

Realm chart. Those were maps used to navigate the heavens. I’d heard of them in a children’s tale, one I particularly liked. It told the story of how Erregar dove down into hell, Ignis's domain, to challenge him to a duel. The god of death had been convinced Ignis had stolen his bride, but it was a ruse set up by Erregar's betrothed in a ploy to get rid of him.

“A void space?” I asked, finishing the rest of my Darqi in one big gulp. It’s a shame I couldn’t take this home when I woke up. May would love it.

"Think of it as a slice of dimension beyond the universe's boundary." She motioned towards my cup, and I gave it to her to refill. "It exists but not truly, similar to a lie you want to believe."

She handed me back my cup, and I immediately started drinking again. Her subsequent smile was that of a grandmother watching her grandchild eat her cookies.

"So," I said between gulps, "if this place doesn't exist, what are we doing here?"

Though I still thought I was dreaming, I was less sure by the moment. This tea just tasted too real and dammed good.

The woman chuckled.

“I am here because I want to be. You are here because you are about to die.”

I was halfway into another swallow when I paused. The last part of her sentence cut through my good mood like a freshly melded blade, and the square box I was in suddenly felt more like a rat trap than a house.

“Not by my hands, child,” she quickly said. “I am speaking of your body in the waking world.”

Her eyes were still closed, and the cup hid a snicker I wasn’t sure was there. But there was a set to the woman’s shoulders. One that made me think she knew exactly what she had just done and had enjoyed it.

‘My body in the waking world,’ I repeated to myself. So I’m not sleeping. I frowned, trying to call on my last memories. I’d been walking through Brighttown, and then…nothing.

“I can’t remember anything,” I said.

“Allow me to help you,” she said.

A clot of darkness swirled into a large, rectangular screen, showing me everything that happened.

The images froze right as the meteoroid was about to annihilate the entirety of the Central Plaza in Brighttown. With me in it, I added. I was calmer than I expected. Watching your death about to happen in third-person really wasn't the same as experiencing it. It also helped to know that I was knocked out cold. There would be no pain, at least.

My question was: how had she stopped the explosion? Did the time in the void space we were in move at a different rate? How else could I be in two places at once? And be drinking tea, no less.

Slender arms moved and put away a cup. The lady folded her hands over her lap, turned my way and beamed.

“Shall we talk business?”

I regarded her. Divine intervention wasn’t unthinkable—not in this world of Primals, gods and Shuras. It wasn't even unheard of. The year Mother died, a god was sighted saving a settlement in the desert beyond our barriers. So yes, it was possible. Deities helped those they liked. Or had a use for, I thought darkly. Not all of them were kindhearted and generous. The term she’d used was ‘Business’. I bit my cheeks. This intervention would not come without a cost.

“To whom do I owe the pleasure?” I asked.

“Sharp question.”

Elbow on her thigh, the woman supported her chin and tilted her head, a strand of hair tumbling in front.

“My kind have many names.” She raised a finger, counting upwards. “Devils.” Already, I did not like where this list was going. “Demons. Evil Gods. But I think you’ll understand one better than all the others—”

She paused, and not her lips, but those of the void around her curled upwards, grinning.

“—Ashura.”

The dark vibrated as she uttered the name, swaying to show its reverence.

Muscles around my mouth went slack, and my nails bit into the backrest.

My luck today was the worst.