Imposter

Chapter 38

"In another land, far away from here and yet so close, you could step from one to the other, death affected people differently," Alicia said. "They recovered from the grief of a lost loved one. It would always hurt, but you did not spend the rest of eternity dwelling on it. Magic, too, was different. Too much magic did not drive them crazy, and white was the color of innocence—not the color of insanity."

Mason sat across from her, his back against the wall and his long legs stretched out in front of him, as he listened to her weave her story.

"There were special beings who were chosen to be higher than the rest, and they were revered," Alicia said. "Some of them were hated and feared, and others were loved and feared. They did not demand respect; they simply received it. They came from all over the realm, and yet they knew each other as family."

Mason rested his head back, closing his eyes and folding his hands across his stomach.

"Even with all their power, they were alone in the world. All they had was each other." Alicia paused, her small voice faltering. "Each of them represented something, or at least. . .part of something. Wisdom, bravery, love, purity. Hate, fear, anger. There were many titles, for they were many."

Her voice was almost putting him to sleep. Not because her story was boring, but because her voice was so soothing.

He didn't like that.

Mason forced himself to open his eyes, blinking when he saw she was staring at him.

Alicia twisted her hands together, clearing her throat and looking away. "When. . .when one of them died, another was born to one day take their place. If their place was not fulfilled, it was speculated whatever they represented would fade away."

That didn't sound like it would be too bad. He didn't know why she was making it sound like a terrible thing.

"Even if the one representing fear died, imagine what life would be like if there was no fear," Alicia said. "Hate could die, and I believe everyone would be fine with what—but what is hate without love? They are polar opposites."

"One cannot exist without the other," he murmured.

"I don't like to think that's true," Alicia said, "but there are some things that deserve to be hated, I suppose. I don't like to think that's true either, but I don't make the rules."

He shrugged. "It's your story. You do make the rules."

"Yes, I suppose I do." She smiled. "But I do not believe that love would survive if hate died. I believe those two are held together by an invisible thread. They share the same life force, the same strength. If hate could die, so could love."

"How long has this story been in the making?" Mason asked, squinting at her.

"As long as I can remember." She laughed softly. "I've always told stories. My father used to say I was creating them even when I was in the womb. I used to sit at the fireplace at night, and my brothers would listen to each tale I told until it was time for bed."

A shadow fell over her face at the mention of her family, and Mason wondered at it.

He didn't miss his family. If he hadn't run away when he did, he thought he probably would have been grateful if someone kidnapped him.

Alicia rolled her lips together, silent for a moment while she gathered her thoughts. "Anyway," she said, painting a smile on her face, "would you like to hear the rest? There's not much left, I promise."

"Sure."

"Well, one day. . .they got bored," she said. "They had lived for so very long, in the same place, and they wanted something new. They longed for a new world, and that is what they set out to find."