Ana forgot the dream she had. She was in the middle of one, but when the white fog came, she frowned, looking around. “Hello?” She saw a figure and walked forward, the build familiar. “Carlos?”
The man turned, and Ana gasped, seeing Nathaniel. She covered her mouth, tears in her eyes. “No.”
Nathaniel looked away, a frown tugging at his face. They stood that way for a moment before he met her gaze again. “I need to tell you a few things before I rest.”
Ana nodded, her hand still to her mouth, tears streaming down her cheeks. She would have to tell Rosa. The dread she felt at this responsibility was too much. She remembered the pain at seeing Carlos almost eight years ago now in one of these dreams, but she couldn’t imagine the pain Rosa would go through. Rosa had been there for Ana, and both of them knew, one day, Ana would have to be there for Rosa. And that time was now.
“There is a loose floorboard under the bed of my room,” Nathaniel said. “I’ve written letters to my children and to Rosa. I write them every year during the Spring Welcoming. It should get them through the year of my rest. Please find them and deliver them to my children and my wife.”
Ana nodded, closing her eyes as more tears spilled down her cheeks.
“Tolomon’s body is near the dungeon. As far as he’s told me, no one has found it yet. Make sure he’s found and given a proper burial.”
Ana gasped, looking away as she continued to cry, trying not to be too loud because she had to make sure she could get his words exactly. “How did this happen?”
“It was Indenuel. But my father stopped him. You will hear more news later, I’m sure.” He straightened the white robes he was now wearing, the ones indicating he would be with the good spirits. “And Ana.” His voice barely contained his pain, tears now forming in his eyes. “When you tell my wife, make sure there’s powerful healers close. She’s pregnant. We don’t want her to lose this baby.”
“I will,” she said through her sobs. This was going to break poor Rosa.
Nathaniel nodded, using a hand to dry the tears before they fell. “I want you to listen closely to this next part so you can tell Rosa.” Ana tried to still her sobs, tried to cover her tears. “This year of rest we do as spirits, everyone does it because we are all exhausted from the new experiences of traveling through the realms, but Tolomon-” Nathaniel paused, looking away as he became overcome with emotion. “He’s working through the exhaustion. He’s not going to rest right now. He’s talked to his sister and told her his plan. He’s already by Rosa’s side. Tell Rosa that…” Nathaniel cleared his throat. “Tolomon is going to stay with her for as long as he can. To be with her and the baby. Once the year is up, I’ll be there to watch over in case he needs to sleep, but something tells me he’s going to push through for the next eighty years to watch…” Nathaniel trailed off.
Ana stilled, the realization hitting her. “Tolomon is the father, isn’t he?”
Nathaniel paused. “We were so focused on not getting caught, we forgot to… to be careful in other matters. Tolomon is the one that fathered the child, but we were going to raise the baby, the three of us, as a unit. We still will. I consider Tolomon as another husband for Rosa, and he considers me another father to the child he gave Rosa.” He cleared his throat again. Ana could do nothing else but listen. She had her suspicions, of course, but she thought Rosa loved Tolomon instead. She had no idea it was both of them. “She, Tolomon, and I were going to tell everyone eventually. To bring him on as another father to my boys if they would have him, but…” he glanced over at a light just beyond Ana’s shoulders. “But things happened.” He turned his gaze back to Ana. “Let Rosa tell the others when she’s ready. Keep it to yourself for now.”
Ana nodded, drying the tears. “I will.”
Nathaniel looked again at the light before smiling. The peace entered his face that she saw on so many others. Carlos smiled as he stepped into view. “Hey, little brother,” he said, gathering Nathaniel in a hug. Ana covered her mouth, trying desperately not to sob. She was so jealous of that hug. She ached for Carlos to hug her again. Nathaniel gripped Carlos tightly.
“I’ve missed you so much,” Nathaniel said, his voice cracking with a sob.
“Me, too,” Carlos said, his voice heavy. Carlos sniffed, breaking away from the hug even though Nathaniel wasn’t quite ready for it. He smiled at Ana, still keeping his arm around Nathaniel. “Hello, Ana.”
Ana tried to smile, but she couldn’t. “Carlos, you must promise me. If anyone were to figure out whether or not you could die in heaven, it would be you two. Please don’t actually figure it out.”
Nathaniel’s chuckle was drowned out by Carlos’ loud laugh. “That’s right! We’ve got so many sword fights to catch up on!”
Nathaniel shook his head, the exhaustion finally making itself known on his face. “At least let me rest, first.”
“Of course, Nathaniel,” Carlos said.
Ana gripped her fingers together, desperate to reach out to Carlos, not ready for the pain her heart would feel when her fingers would brush though his spirit. She closed her eyes, the tears still streaming down her face. “Visit me often, Carlos. This…” she opened her eyes, looking at her husband. “This will hurt. I need your strength.”
Carlos nodded. “I will.”
“Thank you, Ana,” Nathaniel said. “Send Rosa and my children my love. I will be with them again in a year.”
Ana nodded, and her dream filled with light before it faded away.
***
Martin sat there as the night grew darker and warmer. He had his fingers stroking Nathaniel’s cheek, staring out among the trees. Staring at nothing. He owed his son this much. To be here, to watch over his body, before it was collected. He could make sure they cleaned it well before Rosa came to identify it.
He vaguely heard the others coming with lanterns. He wasn’t in his body enough to sense someone trying to help him to his feet. Didn’t answer the questions asked of him except to identify Nathaniel. Saw the feeble lights of the flickering lanterns as the men there tried to understand what had happened. He was so far gone from his mind and body that he was simply existing.
Theo released his fingers from his temple before he became aware of himself again. The warmth of the summer night beating against the numbness he felt. King Ramiro was there, ordering a cleanup and a gathering of bodies to identify.
“What’s that?” Theo asked. Martin looked down to see the black mark on his forearm. Theo healed his other injuries, but this was a demonic injury. Theo touched the black mark, and Martin groaned from the shock. In his mind’s eye he saw Indenuel lash forward with the stub of the staff, cutting into him. Martin gripped his arm as it burned. His muscles, the nerves, it all relived the wound exactly as it had been only a short time before.
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“Martin?” Theo asked, startled.
“A devilish power created this wound,” Martin said. “I will carry it the rest of my life.” Maybe even the rest of eternity. He would have to wrap it. If anyone touched it, he would relive the memory of the wound. He would be cursed with seeing Indenuel’s rage filled face, the last moments of his desperate act to kill him.
“Can you walk?” Theo asked. “You need to get out of here.”
Martin took Theo’s arm and pulled himself to his feet. He unclasped his robe. It was soaked in so much blood, mud, and gore they were no longer white. He closed his eyes as he let it fall, aware of his breathing echoing in his mind. He couldn’t look at that robe ever again.
“It’s alright,” Theo whispered, helping him move away from the battle scene. “You’re alive, Martin. We’ll get you help.”
Martin found no comfort in these words. He now outlived his sons. Something he prayed to the dead Gods he would never do. His greatest fear when they both proclaimed they would be soldiers.
Martin shut his mind off again as Theo lead him through the battlefield as quickly as possible. He refused to acknowledge the lingering smell of corpses, of burning flesh, of death. One he survived. One he caused.
He took careful steps into the city. He wasn’t aware of Elias and Adosina until they were already there, in front of him, holding their lanterns.
“Ana gave us the news,” Adosina said, her chest heaving from the run and the emotions. “Is it true?”
“Martin’s not in a state to talk right now,” Theo said.
Martin said nothing. Instead, he reached forward and touched Elias’ face. His eyes widened, but he didn’t back away. Martin touched the boy’s chin, his hair, then placed a shaking hand on his shoulder. He had found the strength to kill Indenuel for this man. He reached over to touch Adosina, to feel that she was there. She had tears in her eyes, one of terror.
“Api, you’re scaring me.”
Martin said nothing. Simply touched her cheek, her hair, feeling for himself she was alright. Martin turned back to Elias. “You have my blessing. You are now betrothed to my daughter. She may keep whatever titles she wishes. However long those titles may last in the coming days.”
Elias froze, then glanced at Adosina. She continued to stare at Martin, tears running down her cheeks. Martin moved past, leaning on Theo’s arm for support. It was still dark, but the inhabitants of the city were awake. Some gathered in the street, watching Martin in shock and horror. If there was any talking, Martin couldn’t hear it. He simply stared ahead as the people parted for him.
“Sir!” someone cried.
Martin tried to focus. Theo tightened his grip on Martin. “All questions for later, please. He’s not in a good state right now.”
The messenger was gasping, holding a book to his chest. “Sir, you ought to know. The library of the High Elders. It’s burned. Destroyed.”
Those around the messenger gasped in surprise, some giving out cries of pain. Martin felt the pain, but it was simply added onto what he already felt.
“I’m sorry, High Elder Martin. By the time we noticed, it was too late. Some of the guards survived, and they said it was Indenuel. He destroyed it.” The messenger gave Martin a book. “This is all that’s left.”
Martin looked at the book in his hands. He remembered all the secrets of the prophets, all the doctrine, the beautiful words that filled him with such peace. The words that filled him with dread. Now they were gone. What book had been saved from the fire?
He opened it and saw meeting notes. Navir, Fadrique, Dalius, Cristoval, all members of the High Elders. This, of all the books, had been saved. This book was nothing special. This didn’t contain any doctrine. It was simply about people, many of them now gone. Inessa. Tolomon. Indenuel.
Nathaniel.
The page fell open, and Martin stared at Dalius’ quick yet perfect handwriting. His eyes traveled down, reminding himself of this conversation.
Fad: We can’t waste time pouring over Jaakob’s words to guess what part might be true and which is false.
Ind: I don’t think we were supposed to know this much anyway. It seemed like Mela’s prophecy was dangerous enough, and Jaakob’s was just adding to the fire.”
Fad: What I want to know is how is it possible Indenuel saw someone who isn’t even born yet?
Ind: Time must work differently on that plane of existence.
Fad: A nice tidy answer.
Mar: It will be impossible to prove in this time.
Ind: It will eventually be proven. I don’t know how long in the future the prophet is, but he seemed convinced there were things that had already been proven true by--
Martin shut the book before staring at it. He had stopped in the middle of the street, and people were surrounding him. Theo was looking nervous. But all Martin could do was stare at this book.
“Martin?” Theo asked.
He glanced at the people, all watching him. Looking to him for the answers.
“High Elder Martin?” the messenger asked, his voice nervous.
Martin shook his head. “I hereby revoke my own titles. I am no longer fit to be a High Elder. Just call me Martin.” The messenger looked confused, but Martin tucked the book under his arm and strode forward, purpose returning to his steps. Theo caught up with him.
“Martin?”
“I know what I have to do.” He headed down the street. He survived. The library did not. All the writings were in his mind. He was done keeping secrets. “I need all the paper, ink, and pens you can give me. The people have a right to know the doctrines of the religion they follow. I’m done telling lies. They deserve to know the truth. About everything.”
***
It was white. Not white, more fog. The kind of fog that happened on cold days in Mountain Pass. But this was more than just fog. Matteo knew this kind of dream. He had one before with his mother.
Matteo walked forward, placing his hand against the fog to try and see if he could find her. There was certainly a figure among the clouds, but it didn’t look feminine.
“Who’s there?” Matteo called out. The figure turned around sharply, and it startled him. He backed away a few paces before he recognized who it was. “Indenuel?”
“Matteo?” Indenuel reached for him but froze, dropping his hand.
“I don’t… I don’t understand,” Matteo said, looking around. “Did I… have I died in my sleep? Are you visiting me?”
Indenuel stared, a hurt on his face Matteo couldn’t understand. “No, no Matteo. This is… this is me visiting you. For the last time.”
Matteo frowned, then he felt his chest heaving as a sob built up inside. “No. No, you’re alive.” Tears fell down his cheeks. “What happened? I don’t understand.”
Indenuel said nothing, the pain still on his face. Matteo was crying hard. He couldn’t get any words out. He had a million questions, and he couldn’t ask one of them.
A black figure came out of nowhere. Matteo was startled into himself again. His eyes widened as the black figure grabbed Indenuel’s arm, pinning it behind him. “Indenuel! A demon!” Matteo hissed.
Indenuel did nothing to stop it. Another demon appeared, pinning his other hand behind him. “No.” Matteo moved forward, trying to grab the demon, but his hands slid right through it. “No!” He went to the other one, clawing it with all his power, trying to get it to release his friend. "Fight back! They can’t take you!”
Indenuel’s face was stoic. He stared forward, not looking at Matteo. He tried to grab Indenuel’s shoulders, but his fingers again slipped through him. “Why aren’t you fighting back!”
A demon soared through Indenuel’s chest and out again, laughing maniacally. His stoic face crumpled, and he gasped. More demons began to flit in and out of Indenuel, and he dropped to his knees.
“STOP IT!” Matteo screamed with all his might. He tried to get his power to work. Tried to remember what was taught about how to force the demons away, but it didn’t work in this realm.
Indenuel looked up, his eyes darting all over Matteo’s face as though to memorize it. Matteo sobbed as a deep, evil laugh came from behind. Indenuel’s gaze fell on whoever was laughing, but Matteo was too terrified to turn around. There was something deep in his soul that knew it was the devil himself behind him.
“Indenuel,” Matteo said, his chest heaving. “What did you do?”
His brother began to sink into the fog, tearing his gaze from the devil to look at Matteo one last time. “What I had to.”
Matteo dropped to his knees, trying to grab Indenuel. Trying to lift him back up, but it was like catching fog. “No!” Indenuel kept his eyes open as demons swarmed around his body. They swallowed his face, making impossible for Matteo to see him. “Leave him alone!”
Indenuel dropped past the fog, and Matteo let out one final scream.
Matteo was awake, feeling hands grab him. “No!” He tried again to reach with his power. It worked now, but it was pointless. He was awake. Indenuel was gone. Dragged to hell by demons to suffer for eternity. “INDENUEL!”