is this place Cathedral of Thunder?” She asked, falling asleep.
“The place where heaven and hell met,” he could have avoided answering, as he always did, but somehow he told her everything. “It is the cornerstone in the architecture of the entire universe, and of all worlds. A place that is the receptacle of evil and yet it is blessed because we are all reborn there again. Any of my lost angels can become the same again if they find their way there and perform the ritual. Their consciousness, imprisoned in a human body, still holds all their former knowledge. If only they have the strength to overcome the madness and the conviction that they are only human, and the road from paradise is not their fantasy, then they return to their paradise. It is a gloomy paradise with intricate colonnades and dormant statues. Beneath the enormous dome is a hall, and on its marble floor so many sacrifices have already been made that it is difficult to count. Only a few of them have ended in death. There are some people who want to be mistaken and identify themselves with my troops. Such people perish. It would be the same if a man imagined himself a bird and threw himself into flight. Their entrails remain on the floor and those who do manage to eat the bodies. The others, fragments of my army, remain dead for only a few seconds… it’s not death, really, but an eerie suspension between the real world and the spirit world that dwells in the cathedral. Both worlds are alien for a moment.”
“And then?” She gripped his arm harder so that she almost scratched her side, but he didn’t even notice. If he says what she hopes, she’ll even give him another kiss.
“Then their wings grow back, but if you’ve seen the agony they are beating in a moment before. Only a few minutes pass, and they manage to endure on the marble floor all the pain I have endured in eternity. It comes over each of them in a black wave and drives them insane. A moment seems endless.”
“And you sit on the high parapet like a statue, watching indifferently as others take in your pain. Sometimes you are even satisfied when you realize that you are not the only one who has suffered the most. Others have gone through the same thing.”
“Yeah, how do you know?”
“I guess I can see it in your mind,” she admitted uncertainly, afraid of what would follow.
“You can keep looking,” he said graciously. “I can show you everything.”
“Why?”
“Because you, my twin, are part of me,” he squeezed her shoulders tighter.
“And that means that one day I’ll have to suffer like you, there in the cathedral… or somewhere else…” she herself was frightened by her hunch.
“It is not you,” he quickly objected, “I won’t allow it. You don’t know what it’s like.”
“I’m afraid to find it, and yet… if it’s the only way.”
Her lips touched lily-scented skin in a long kiss.
“There are other ways to immortality. Suffering is not necessary.”
“Is that what you say?”
“I prefer to leave suffering to others, but not to myself and not to you.”
“You speak of me as something close to you.”
“But that’s the way it is.”
“Yes, I think so,” she wasn’t sure. It’s always hard to believe in something that is too desirable. Becoming part of someone who is the most beautiful and powerful, it was too good. For a second she remembered the god, the suffering, the destiny that was forever setting her up for it. The god’s chosen are always suffering, and Dennitsa is to blame. The god’s first favorite betrayed him and now everyone he loved after his first chosen one suffers. She suffered the most, for she had been chosen to take his place. And she didn’t want to remember it anymore. No one wants to be a toy that is expertly guided through a thorny labyrinth of pain to lead to some intended goal. Why is everything so complicated? Why must everyone suffer for the fault of one? And why did this one choose to save her rather than kill her, as he first wanted? Rhianon buried her face in the comforting shoulder, felt even more strongly the scent of lilies and some peculiar, unlike anything else, but pleasant smell of his skin. It immediately brought back memories of gold and rye fields and fairy valleys. No one had ever loved her but him. She was loved only by the devil, the one who should hate everyone, and also her society was desired by the fairies. Everything had worked out so strangely, but she regretted nothing. It was good when at least someone loved you, and it did not matter who they were, as long as you loved them in return. And there was no fear that one day it would end in betrayal, war, division of power, or hurtful words. Madael was proving that he could be trusted. She just couldn’t believe herself. The desire to return or destroy Loretta had become so strong that it would have cost nothing to rip open her own guts for it. The terrifying journey to the Cathedral of Thunder didn’t scare her so much anymore. Some things are worth the sacrifice. You just have to find enough courage to make them. The thought that someone had walked this path before her cheered her up a bit.
Dragons’ Valley
Rhianon woke up alone. Though her bed was crumpled, the empty space beside her was unpleasantly startling. It seemed that everything that had happened could only have been a dream. And there really was no deity to hug her at night. There was only fantasy.
She put a hand to her head, kneading the already disheveled strands of long hair. Her consciousness burned as if it, too, had been burned. It seemed that as she lost Madael, she lost her mind as well. Was this how a man who had slept with a fallen angel should feel. The angel is no longer around, and you begin to lose your mind without him.
If she leaves here, there’s a completely empty world waiting for her. Only Rhianon was somehow sure that if she became queen again, that Madael would follow her. He would rule with her, or rather stand beside her throne, like a dragon guarding her. For him, the earthly realm is but a toy, and he can give the toy to her and remain the force that invisibly rules all. Rianon would have been fine with this course of events. She would have her own bodyguard, her own personal dragon. With him at her side, she would not have to fear for her own power. And the bonds that held him back… were they still there, or was his bond with the sky fraying?
Rhianon wondered. Could she live without him now? Would it be possible for her to leave this tent without completely losing her mind? She decided to try. She got out of bed, found on the floor an outfit she had never seen before, and a lace gown. A luxurious dress with wide sleeves and bodice embroidered with pearls fit her just right. She put it on effortlessly. She could feel them crawling lightly down her back and braiding into an intricate knot. Rhianon examined herself in the mirror. She liked the cut and finish of the outfit very much. The only thing missing was a headpiece. The turtle comb, also trimmed with pearls, which was lying on the table, suited her very well. Before she could even think about taking it and sticking it in her hair, it was there. The strands at the back of her head were woven around it, forming a sort of hairstyle. Well, now she has at least a parody of a crown. Rhianon glanced smugly at the teeth of the comb that protruded from her hair. It was like a crown.
“Queen of the Underwater Kingdom,” she called herself, jokingly, smiling at her reflection. “You’re covered in pearls, and you like the cooler shades of water because they stifle the fire within you.”
Suddenly she was afraid of her own words. It was as if Madael were made of fire, of golden fire. By denying the fire, it was as if she was going to deny it, too. Well, no, she wasn’t denying it. She would just have to see how she would feel without it.
Rhianon hoped that she would somehow manage to subdue the vigilance of the guards and get at least a little walk. She cautiously looked out of the tent and saw no one standing watch. The strange black bird was still flying over the spire of the tent. It was making strange noises, and its dark plumage shimmered in the sunset rays. Rhianon’s lips parted in amazement as she saw that the bird had a woman’s