36 - INFECTION

I moved closer toward the corpse on the table. Up close, its eyes managed to somehow convey a lingering sense of malicious intelligence. I could see my reflection distorted across their glassy surface and was forced to look away.

“How could you even know that?” I asked in a hoarse voice.

“Let me give you a little more background,” The Autarch said gravely. “We first noticed strange, inexplicable gateways several decades ago. They were just rumors. The Order of the Seeking Hand investigated them nonetheless; we don’t take chances. But information was hard to come by. They never seemed to stay open for long and the few people who reported seeing them were often useless witnesses. We’re talking farmers and woodsmen out at the edges of the empire, men who aren’t the most reliable when it comes to writing a serious report.” The Autarch started to pace the length of the room, idly flipping the knife in his hand, deftly catching it by the hilt each time. “Over the last five years, we’ve started to put the pieces together properly. We found people who were behaving strangely. At first, it was hard to pinpoint them—in the early stages of infection, the physical changes are far more subtle. It’s a slow growing poison and, as far as we can tell, capable of remaining dormant in a person’s system for a very long time. It’s possible that some had been infected since they were children, and were only now starting to…alter.”

I didn’t like any of this. I felt as though I were in a dream. Even still, fixated, and chilled to the bone, I listened attentively.

“But then it became more obvious. The infected started to move. They traveled to our major cities. They tried to join the Terarch Guard. And then they began to kill. And they didn’t just kill, Aurion. Afterward, every time, they ate the brains of the dead.”

“The brains,” I echoed numbly.

The Autarch stopped pacing. “Yes. We speculate that they’re capable of gorging themselves on the memories of the dead. Like I said. Information gathering. Here’s how we think it works: the infected are subconsciously driven to infiltrate centers of power and authority. Then they kill, gather the relevant intel, and transmit it back home.” He waved a hand absently toward the elongated skull. “Hence the drastic changes to the structure of the brain. It allows them to form a sort of…psychic link.”

I rubbed my eyes. “This is madness.”

“Oh, certainly,” Marak said. “I assure you, I find it as insane and difficult to believe as you do. And yet it’s the truth, and we have no choice but to confront it. The point to what I’m saying, Aurion, is that for quite a while now, we’ve known that this is coming. I don’t know how, exactly, to fight back. I don’t know how to win. But in every way I can, I am preparing. The Autarchy—and indeed, the human race—must be strong if we are to withstand an invading world. And so that is why I must conquer the world. That is why I must rule with an iron grip. We require unity. Strength. We must be united behind a singular leader who can coordinate a war against an unknown enemy.”

“And that leader is you,” I murmured.

“Who else? My immortality alone makes me a perfect candidate. This might very well be a slow war. It is possible that they don’t operate on timescales we’re used to. So, a normal human lifespan isn’t enough.”

“And you expect me to simply believe that this is all true.”

“The evidence is in front of you.”

“A single, deformed body. It doesn’t prove anything else you’ve said.”

“No,” Marak confessed, “it doesn’t. But I can show you the reports, if you’d like. And I have personally seen the horrifying aftermath of their information gathering. I could even transplant the images directly into your mind, if that would help. I have that power.”

Tempting. Very tempting. But I did not trust the Autarch, no matter how much he sold this story to me. If I gave him access to my mind, there was no telling what else he might do while there; he could strip away all information regarding the Thorns, about the Withered Isles, about our plan.

“Follow me,” said the Autarch. “Let’s continue this elsewhere. I do not like to be in the presence of the body. I find it…unsettling.”

On that, we could agree.

Marak led me back to the room I’d woken in. I saw nothing as we navigated the Victory Palace—my mind was distant, distracted with all I’d just learned. Despite everything, I found myself compelled to take it all at face value. It simply couldn’t be a lie, not when there were so many easier ways for the Autarch to deceive me.

Enjoying the story? Show your support by reading it on the official site.

So. If it was true—then what? What did it mean?

How did it change things?

Did it change things? Even if there was an invader, did that justify all that the Autarch did? Could he really claim to be the best chance humanity had, or was that his vanity speaking, his own self-interests blurring the story?

Back in the expansive and well-furnished quarters that appeared to be reserved for me—at least for the moment—the Autarch strode across to one of the vast glass windows on the other side of the space. I joined him, and for the first time gazed out across Althira. A city of tall towers. Of narrow, twisting streets, full of people. Immense and grand buildings—belonging to the government itself, if the thousand flags were anything to go by—cast ancient homes in their deep shadows. There were gardens, bright and green. Doves flew past the window and below, down in the street, a man all in green was performing a juggling act to the adoration of a growing crowd.

It was an impressive sight. A city of infinite possibility. Of old history and new beginnings. All throughout the world, grand events unfolded; wars, assassinations, riots, innovation. If one were to view them through the lens of cause and effect, lines could be drawn to Althira. Always Althira.

And to the man standing next to me.

“I fear for humanity,” Marak said sincerely. “And if I had to sum up the reason why I’ve done everything that I have, those four simple words would be it.”

“We’ve come this far without your help,” I said. “Thousands of years. Millions, maybe, if you can wrap your head around that. I’m not convinced we need you.”

Marak’s smile was sad. “You’re too young.”

The old rage reignited deep inside me. Few things aggravated me as much as that.

“And you,” I said, “are too arrogant.”

“Please tell me, Aurion, how, exactly, you and your friends expect to win. It’s a hopeless cause.”

“It’d be even more hopeless if I told you our plans.”

“Ha,” Marak grinned humorlessly. “As if I don’t already know them. I know, for instance, that your leader intends to set off a bomb in this very city. An ancient bomb. He hopes it’ll destroy all of Althira, and me with it. And then you…well, you have your own role in that plan, don’t you?”

I stared at him with wide eyes, my heart suddenly pounding hard. How did he know? Had he looked into my mind? Had the Order infiltrated the Thorns?

And if that plan had been our only hope, it was now dead.

“Don’t make me laugh,” Marak said, seeing my shock. “You truly think I wouldn’t know about that?”

“I…I don’t see how…”

“It’s not even their plan,” the Autarch growled. “Do you know, boy, the history of Tymora?”

I did—vaguely. I knew that it had been the capital of the Rising Dominion, once the Autarchy’s greatest rival. I knew, too, that Marak had destroyed the city in a single day, using powerful magic; he had burned it all to the ground.

My heart sank. I had a feeling I knew what he was about to tell me.

“It was your plan,” I said, now hollow. Hopeless. It was all hopeless.

I had been such a fool.

My anger grew, inch by inch. More fuel thrown on to a growing inferno.

“It was my plan,” the Autarch echoed. “Mine. I ruined Tymora. And then I devoured the souls of the million dead. I am not proud of it, but the outcome was a positive one for humanity, if you factor in the total lifespan of our species. I killed a god that had been preying on us for millennia, and who would’ve continued to prey on us until the very stars burned themselves out. I do not know how your friends discovered the exact nature of what I did. It was a long time ago, I suppose, and few secrets survive the centuries.” He shrugged. “But there is a key difference. When I consumed the souls, I soon afterward used them all. They acted as fuel for my power—as temporary fuel. You, however…” his bright eyes fixated on me. “You are a Soul Eater. I am not. If you were to do the same, you would become a god. Or close enough to one to deserve the title, in any case.”

I absorbed that silently, feeling betrayed. Did Camillan even know that the plan wasn’t his? I had a feeling he did. Why had he kept that knowledge from me?

I took several deep breaths. Hard not to feel as though everything was rapidly changing. The future was uncertain. What I had once believed was my destiny now seemed distant and blurry.

“What’s the point of telling me all of this?” I growled out. Impatience gnawed at me. Impatience and frustration. “What are you getting at?”

The Autarch turned to face me, hands folded behind his back, a pensive expression on his face.

“The point, Aurion, is that I want your help.”

I couldn’t quite meet his gaze anymore.

“You begin to see the dangers facing humanity. And you, unlike me, are a Soul Eater. Your potential is boundless. So: help me. Help me fight for mankind. Help me save the world.”