Spin of Fate, page 29
Aina was safe with Zenyra, and Meizan…Meizan had his clan.
Aranel stood, dusted himself off, and picked up his fallen sword. He tightened his grip on the pommel, its emeralds digging into his skin.
Meizan had stood up for him. Threatened his own clan members to keep Aranel safe.
Aranel’s heart soared at the memory. He’d been tempted to stay with Kanjallen. By his teammate’s side. But then what?
Meizan’s clanmates were warriors. Meizan was a warrior.
Aranel had seen firsthand how Meizan had fought in Incaraz. The gruesome ways in which he’d cut down his enemies. The way Meizan had laughed through it all, eyes wild with joy and face splattered with gore.
Aranel had convinced himself it was the influence of the chitrons, but Zenyra had never looked that way when she channeled.
Much as Aranel had tried to repaint them to suit his preferences, he’d seen Meizan’s true colors since the day they met.
I wanted to believe he could be different. Believe he could be someone I…
Aranel released the pommel of his sword and started across the field. There was no place for him in Meizan’s life, or even Aina’s. His business was with the upper realms.
He ought to have felt relief. The nightmare had ended. He could now live a safe and peaceful life in Mayana. Yet, as Aranel hiked up the familiar path that led to the palace gardens, all he felt was regret.
Because things could not continue like this. The thousands of children who dwelled within Malin could not be allowed to suffer the injustice of Toranic Law. Zenyra’s mission and the Balancers’ purpose could not be allowed to dissolve to nothingness. The Preservation could not be allowed to perpetuate their illusions of purity.
Aranel stopped in front of the torana that led to Paramos. In the moonless night of Kirnos, its columns shone like molten gold. Behind it, the uppermost realm was quiet and shrouded in darkness. He tossed through the round pebble they’d used to communicate, then waited for Seirem’s arrival. The Preserver came within the hour, his expression one of polite puzzlement.
“I did not expect you to contact me from Mayana,” said Seirem, handing Aranel the pebble. “Is everything all right?”
“No.” Aranel ground his teeth together and flung the stone back through the torana. “I quit.”
Seirem’s expression remained unruffled. “I am sorry you feel that way. I know it is difficult, Aranel, but the Balancers are—”
“The Balancers are destroyed. Incaraz was attacked. Zenyra is no longer a threat. Although she was never the real threat, was she?”
“Pardon me?”
“I know about the megarya blood! I know you and the Preservation have been drinking it to inflate your chitronic spin and stay in Paramos! To stay in power so you could control the realms!”
Seirem took a step back, raising a hand to his forehead. “Aranel, whatever poison that woman is feeding you—”
“I saw you,” seethed Aranel. “I saw you drinking it from that flask you always carry around. How dare you stand there and look down upon me, down upon her, when all she’s trying to do is help those less fortunate! The very thing that the Preservation ought to be doing but isn’t, since you’re a bunch of corrupt geezers who care about nothing but your own twisted souls!”
“Aranel, please.” Seirem stepped through the torana into Mayana. “Let me explain.”
“Is that why you sent me on this forsaken mission? Why the Preservation are so terrified of Zenyra? Because you’re afraid she’ll reveal the truth and shatter the illusion you’ve built around yourselves?”
“It is not the Preservation’s illusion I am worried about her shattering,” boomed Seirem, “but the realms themselves!”
Suddenly, Aranel found himself unable to move, the air solidifying around him to hold him in place. When had Seirem channeled? He’d been so quick, Aranel hardly had time to react.
“I regret having to bind you like this, Aranel,” said Seirem. “But I entreat you to give me the chance to explain myself. Then you can make an informed judgment based on both sides.”
“Not much to your side beyond lies and powermongering.”
“It is true that certain members of the Preservation, myself included, drink megarya blood on occasion,” said Seirem. “Not all, but near a third, although I can assure you that His Supremacy Lord Kyrian has never needed it.”
“Why would I believe your assurances?”
“Please, Aranel. Allow me to admit to my actions and apologize for misleading you. My true realm, if I am honest with you, is likely closer to Mayana than Paramos. The same could be said about the other dozen or so Preservers who drink the blood—which is common knowledge amongst the Preservation. It is also why we have two factions.”
Seirem raised his sleeve to show a ring of silver around the hem. “The blooded, including myself, are marked by this ring. We possess neither the power nor the authority of the unblooded faction, for our purity is sustained by the blood, whereas theirs is true.”
“So that’s what Sam meant,” muttered Aranel. “I should’ve listened when he tried warning me about you.”
“You’ve had contact with your brother?” asked Seirem sharply. “When? Does he know of your mission?”
“It’s not your place to be interrogating me!” snapped Aranel. “Why even have a blooded faction? Why not let those of you too impure for Paramos reside in Mayana?”
“An excellent question.” Seirem looked relieved that Aranel had asked. “There are several reasons, one being that we are able to govern the upper realms so peacefully and without contest precisely because the Mayani believe in our purity and wisdom. The brightness of our keiza and our Paramosi status are proof of this purity, and it uplifts the morale of our subjects, who strive to become better people in order to follow our example and ascend.
“This is why ascension ceremonies are so popular with Mayani royalty, for they indisputably prove the worth of those in charge and inspire those around them. Were Preservers allowed to fall back to Mayana, this belief in us would be weakened. Why would a Mayani trust a Preserver if they suspected he or she might fall the next day? Why would they follow an organization filled with those whom they viewed as equals, rather than their superiors?”
“That’s nothing but an excuse to stay in power,” said Aranel in disgust. “Mayana is a peaceful realm, full of good people. It would function well even without the Preservation’s interference.”
“Perhaps it would,” said Seirem. “But there is one more reason Preservers cannot be allowed to fall: we know far too many secrets about the origin of the universe and the chitronic system that governs the realms…secrets that would become deadly were one of us to fall to Malin and decide to use them for evil.”
“What secrets? What could you possibly know that would endanger the realms? Everything runs on Toranic Law, and it’s not as if you can control…” Aranel trailed off, blood going cold. “Can you?”
“Of course not. Toranic Law is absolute, as unbreakable and unchangeable as gravity. The Preservation can neither affect nor control it. We can only safeguard.”
“What’s there to safeguard? You just said Toranic Law is unbreakable and unchangeable.”
“Come with me,” said Seirem, his tone somber. “It is time I show you the truth. The whole truth about the universe.”
* * *
Aranel scrutinized the white limestone walls and their four statued columns. The musky scent of marigold pervaded the room, bringing with it a strange sense of nostalgia.
He was familiar with the temple of Kirnos. He’d visited weekly, in addition to all the times he’d escorted Aina here so she could serve penance for her various crimes.
Am I being locked up too? wondered Aranel. Aina would never let him hear the end of it if she found out.
Seirem nodded to Aro, the high priest, who swept out of the shrine without a word, leaving Aranel alone with the Preserver.
“Look at this room, Aranel,” said Seirem. “Tell me what you see.”
“A shrine. And the statues symbolize the four Planetary Beasts, the seitarius.”
“Yes. Now look closer. What else is there?”
Aranel frowned, not quite understanding where Seirem was going with this. “The inscription on the ceiling, about the Great Toranic Separation—”
“What else?”
“There’s nothing else!” exploded Aranel. “What are you getting at? Speak plainly!”
“Observe the color of the walls,” said Seirem. “Pure white, with not a single carving or inscription. Every single shrine, in this realm and in Paramos, has blank walls of pure white.”
“So?” Aranel scowled. “Did you bring me here to talk about temple design?”
“If the statues symbolize the seitarius, what do you think the blank walls symbolize?”
“That whoever built them clearly lacked inspiration…”
“The Universal Void, Aranel,” said Seirem with a sigh. “The Chorus of Creation, verse one. The universe started out as but a blank emptiness from which the seitarius created our world.”
“So it’s the Void,” said Aranel impatiently. “What does that have to do with anything?”
“Look down.”
Aranel did, noting the fine carvings that ran across the white marble floor: four rings, one encircling each statue. Extending from each ring were three fine lines connecting to the other rings.
It was a fairly simple design, neat and geometric. Aranel didn’t understand what he was supposed to find so fascinating about this.
“This shrine represents the Void,” said Seirem, “and the chitronic system that lies within.”
“You mean the system you’ve been monitoring?” Aranel blinked several times. “That’s in the Void?”
“It is the only place in the universe stable enough to hold it,” answered Seirem. “You are well-versed in the Second Principle of Chitronic Equilibrium and its implications, I presume?”
“Souls can only exist in realms with a chitronic rotational speed equal to or less than their own. In essence, it’s Toranic Law.”
“Answered wonderfully, as expected. Now, Aranel, a trick question: How were the realms made? What are they, really?”
“They were made by the seitarius, who split the original realm into four overlapping ones during the Great Toranic Separation.”
“Ah!” Seirem’s eyes gleamed. “See, that is where you are missing the nuance. The seitarius did create the realms, so to speak. But a more precise definition would be that the seitarius are the realms. Their slumbering bodies lie within the depths of the earth. And their souls—which have been projected outside their bodies—make up the chitrons of the realms.”
“I’ve heard that before,” said Aranel, remembering Hiraval’s explanation the day they had entered Incaraz. “From one of the Balancers who was training to be a priest in Ashkator.”
“Yes, the priesthood of Ashkator is particularly devoted toward studying the seitarius,” said Seirem. “Now here is the part your priest friend will not have told you. The barriers between the realms that limit ascension are nothing more than a set of giant, unbreakable chitronic shields…made from a portion of the seitarius’ souls. These shields are designed to operate under the Second Principle, protecting our realms.”
For the love of Sherka!
Aranel forced his mouth shut and leaned against the temple wall for support. Chitronic shields? That’s all it is?
Aranel had never given much thought as to exactly what separated the realms, maintaining the absolute order of Toranic Law. He’d assumed it to be something sophisticated and mystical that transcended the boundaries of human understanding.
But chitronic shields were the most rudimentary of techniques. Most Mayani children learned to make them by the age of ten. The power of the seitarius would be immeasurable in comparison. Yet to think it was nothing but a set of shields that stood between Mayana and Malin. Between Mayana and Narakh…
Images flashed through Aranel’s mind, of Kaldrav’s soldiers bursting into Incaraz, pieces of Zenyra’s shield raining down. He pressed his fingers to his temples as the disturbing revelation sank in: that any chitronic shield, no matter how powerful, could be broken if subjected to enough force.
“Is that…” Aranel found his voice. “Is that what Kaldrav’s soldiers meant when they spoke of breaking Toranic Law? When I asked you about it, you claimed it could never break.”
“It was no mere claim but the truth.” Seirem tapped his chin. “There is a fine distinction between Toranic Law—and the chitronic shields and torana that operate under it. Most people do not know or care for this difference, and the two are often treated and spoken of interchangeably.”
“And that’s wrong?”
“Wrong indeed,” said Seirem. “Toranic Law has existed since the beginning of time, dictating the spin of one’s soul. It is what causes chitrons to spin a certain direction and speed based on one’s intentions, thoughts, actions, and emotions. Beyond that, on its own, Toranic Law has no practical effect.”
“But what about ascension and descension?”
“A soul’s movement between realms, while wholly dependent on spin, is not controlled by Toranic Law itself,” explained Seirem. “Rather, it is regulated by the chitronic shields and the torana, both of which were created by the seitarius during the Great Toranic Separation as a means to stop the war that almost broke the universe. But this was done centuries after Toranic Law came into being.”
Aranel narrowed his eyes. He, too, had assumed Toranic Law and the torana were one and the same. None of the scriptures bothered to make clear the distinction, something he’d begun to think was deliberate.
“So if one spoke of breaking Toranic Law,” said Aranel, “what they’d actually mean is—”
“Breaking the shields between the realms,” answered Seirem. “But I would not worry about some army, Aranel. They cannot break anything from within Malin, and they have no access to the chitronic system. That this king believes physical strength is necessary proves he knows nothing about how the universe works.” Seirem shook back his sleeves and clapped his hands. “Returning to the matter at hand. The realms, and the seitarius themselves.”
“What about them?” asked Aranel. “The realms are made from the seitarius, and the chitrons from their souls.” He crossed his arms. “I know the Chorus of Creation refers to the Planetary Beasts as our creators and benefactors, but I expected something more conceptual.”
“Religion is more literal than you would expect. That is why it is so easy to have faith. Our deities exist, Aranel, in both physical form and spirit. We walk across their backs and channel their souls.”
“Must be annoying. I certainly wouldn’t want a bunch of tiny humans walking all over me and using my chitrons for their trivial purposes. Or my blood, for that matter.”
Seirem ignored the jibe. “Our deities are tolerant and benevolent,” said the Preserver. “It also helps that they are asleep. Their chitrons may be vaguely aware of what is happening, but the Beasts themselves are in a near-comatose state. Or they had been, until recently.”
“The disturbances.” Aranel caught on. “You mentioned there were explosions in the chitronic system, caused by erasures. Are they somehow awakening the Beasts?”
“There is a risk they might,” said Seirem. “You see, right after the Great Toranic Separation, the seitarius had a part of their souls—namely their chitronic cores—stored in the Universal Void for safekeeping.” He gestured to the white temple walls and the seitarius statues, then pointed at the floor with its geometric web of lines. “The design represents the chitronic system that upholds our realms, with the seitarius cores at its foundation. Think of it as a control unit for the shields and the torana.”
“And this control unit, this entire system, is inside the Void?” Aranel’s voice rose a fraction. “The Void that the Preservation have access to?”
“Now you see why we must drink megarya blood and remain in Paramos,” said Seirem. “There is a single torana that leads to the Void. It is located in Ashkator, guarded day and night by one of the Preservation. But imagine what could happen if the wrong person with the wrong intentions knew of the Void and what lay within. They could recalibrate the soul-spin limits on the chitronic shields, for example, allowing more Mayani to enter Paramos. Worse, they could dismantle the shields altogether, which would throw the realms into chaos.”
“When you recruited me, you mentioned Zenyra was sighted near Ashkator,” said Aranel. “Do you think she plans to do something in the Void?”
Such as change the limits on the shields? he wondered but dared not say in front of Seirem.
“Regardless of her plans, the Preservation will never permit her near the Void,” said Seirem. “Even so, we cannot stop whatever it is she is doing in Malin that is causing the erasures.”
“We have no proof that it’s her.”
“Call it an old man’s intuition, Aranel. I have seen with my own eyes how those explosions are reverberating through the chitronic system and shaking the seitarius cores. If Zenyra is allowed to continue, whether she intends it or not, she could end up awakening one of the seitarius—Azyaka, the planetary nagamor, to be precise.”
“And what happens if Azyaka awakens?” asked Aranel, voice trembling.
Seirem’s face turned grim. “The shield around Malin will crumble. And the universe will break.”
They left the temple soon after and walked through the empty marketplace. Aranel hardly registered where they were headed as he tried, with a profound effort, to process everything he had just learned.
“You could’ve mentioned some of this when you recruited me,” he said.
