NINE TIME MACHINES: Do you want to undo your entire life on planet earth?

CHAPTER 183

My step of safety leads down a narrow winding path draped by engraved walls. I place each foot before the other, inching my way down towards uncertainty, eyes shut in rebellion until the scent of rosemary entices them open. I examine the walls for clues. But thus far they've decided against showing their hand. So my mind roams again with questions. Am I heading to a dungeon of some sort? Are they going to execute me in their circle? Or am I going to be welcomed into their fold? On my next turn, the walls throw back a response. An engraved area lights up. There are tree roots standing side by side, like soldiers without guns. Then that image fades and a fire blazes in the south side of a graveyard, but I see no throne. So I continue down, closing and opening my eyes along the way until I meet a landing within the stairway. There I find the serpent's black throne, littered with the starry night, perched atop striped tiles, the vertical lying right next to the horizontal ones. It completely blocks the rest of the way down. The only chance I have of going further is bowing before it.

I bow as low as I possibly can, eyes never leaving the throne. Nothing happens. After a while, I feel like a fool; so I straighten up again. Is there something else I'm forgetting? Right is left. Up is down. Bad is really good. That's about it, right? No, there was more. If only I can crack open my head at moments like these and pull the answers out. But one can only dream. All I'm getting is bow before the throne, spill your guts, sit on it then rule. I remain silent until the memory taps me on the shoulder. Yes, that's right. I remember now. Enter as a slave if you want to leave as a master. But didn't I already bow before the damn throne? What more can it want? Slave and master? Slave versus master? The master rules; the slave obeys. No, that can't be it. I won't do that. How about parent versus child? Yes, this one I can do.

A parent is bigger than a child. But not forever, right? One day the child will grow into the parent. And then the child won't need the parent's help anymore. So what the hell does that have to do with the slave and master? Surely, there's no guarantee a slave will become a master. I think about it in silence a while more. My first thought is of the Dream Killers and their god, the god they want me to sit around waiting on for scraps from his table. Now I feel like less of a child and more of a slave, and I remember all those days the master refused to share his scraps with me, nights when I cried myself to sleep hoping for miracles in the morning. But they never came. No, I won't do it! I'll never enter anywhere as a slave. But I can enter as a child because I know one day that will lead to somewhere. I can bow before my mother today, learn from her, enjoy our moments together, love her completely, and when she's gone be her replacement. Now that I can do! And so instead of bowing, I go full-blown and kneel before the throne.

"I don't know who you are. But I can see your throne," I say carefully. "My name is Mary Pethiel. I'm not quite sure where I'm from. I just know where I want to be. And if you're one of the people to lead me there, I'm willing to learn everything you have to teach."

"You were conceived in the Bloody Sea," a relaxed voice says, "and fed by the blood of all your mother's fallen children."

I lift my eyes to see who the voice belongs to. It's a man dressed in a purple cloak.

"Come closer, Mary Pethiel," he commands. "Come sit on top of me."

What the hell! There's no way I'm sitting on top of some strange man I just met in a basement.

"Who are you?"

"The throne master."

"I know that. I meant, what's your name?"

"How about we save that for another time?"

"I'd prefer now."

"You know, Mary." His tone is haughty. "You weren't the only one to receive an invitation."

I look around. "Yet so far I'm the only one present."

"That's because all may be invited to the party. But not everyone has the right attire to enter."

"What happens if you don't have the right attire?"

"No one ever gets to find out. But; you can come naked if you wish, and find out for yourself."

"Like I said before, I'd prefer to know whose lap I'm going to be sitting on."

He looks down the steps then back at me. "Even at the risk of not passing?"

"You'd be that petty?"

"Only if you intend to be that stupid this early in the game."

I think it through quickly. What really matters at the end of the day? The who or the what?

"Let's get this over with. How do you want it?" I ask standing before him now. "Front or back?"

"Facing me, of course. That way we can look into each other's eyes."

I climb on top of him and hold on tightly in case he's taking me for a ride. But he doesn't. One minute we're staring deep into each other's darkness; the next he disappears right before my eyes and leaves me wearing his purple cloak.