Worlds Apart

Chapter 14

C L O U D S • O F • M A D N E S S

Sep. 09 2020 11:15 CET

ɿɘbmaʜƆ eʜT

A lean figure stood in the dimly-lit room. They paced, agitation sparking with every step, and then they stopped. Then they paced again, muttering under their breath in a steady stream of hysteria. Each word echoed in the vast chamber, bouncing off every dusty surface, the inch or so of time's residue doing nothing to muffle his madness.

"—why why why of all people did it have to be her—"

Their thoughts ran into each other, derailed trains speeding towards collision on a crumbling bridge. They were on fire and the screams of the damned pierced his ears but—

The trains were empty.

" —so close and now—"

So who was screaming?

"—idiot...why did you—"

Their own voice pricked his deafened ears and his surroundings shot into jarring focus. He settled on one thought, the others fading into the darkness tucked away under the carpet they stood on.

"She remembered." Invisible strings stretched their mouth into a smile as he whispered, "She cares, I knew I knew it would help I knew it."

The strings grew loose and heavy. "But...this is bad."

He swivelled and stalked up to the window. It towered over his head, as grand and ancient as the room they stood in. But he could not focus on those intricate carvings and that soft glow imbued in the wood that hissed in the ears of all who would listen that this was from a different world, an era beyond history.

Right now, they could only focus on his dear little sister who had ventured into territory she never should have even looked at.

They stared at the flaming foliage and the scattered buildings amongst it, but his own reflection was all he could see, his reflection and his molten eyes that carried a hint of madness.

They should have known. Riona might have been a child but she was never wrong.

"Czarina."

A hazy silhouette appeared at their side, ice blue eyes gleaming in the glass.

"What do they know back home?"

"They're aware Miss Jaykio has split with the General. They're not happy about it but their priority seems to be locating you. I think they've realised it was you crossing that triggered the beams." A sinister smile split her face. "They're terrified."

They tried to ignore the surge of triumph in his chest. They deserved it they deserved it all letting everything fall to pieces they were reaping what they had sown—

"They might realise she's onto something and follow her, or decide not to trust her and attempt to bring her back. They might send someone soon," he said. "We need to deal with Riona."

Czarina's eyes sharpened, glittering with malice.

"DO NOT TOUCH HER," they thundered, then quieted his voice to a hiss. "Or you shall never see the light of day again, I'll make sure of it."

He gazed at the trees, so similar yet alien to their home. The clouds had grown heavier, darker. They reared above the horizon, walls of granite, lighting up from the inside with angry lightning that sparked his veins. The sky was the one thing they'd found was the exact same here, down to the pinpricks of light at night. They were the very ones Riona had snuck him out onto the roof to see when she was six. That was the last time she had been so carefree around him.

The walls clamped shut overhead and the sky was gone.

"I'll take care of her myself," they murmured into the glass, their voice barely above a whisper.

"Lien." A face materialised in the glass, nothing but a reflection from far away. "Close the wormhole."

A muffled scream pierced the air from behind them. He tilted his head towards their guest, satisfaction pooling in his chest. "Ah yes, that was the only lead they had, didn't they? Your saviours." They could almost taste the word. It was delectable.

They turned and strode up to the armchair, plush and white. It was luxurious once, but was now layered with dusty decrepitude. The ropes that tied its occupant didn't help with the aesthetic. He stared the red haired woman in the eye—there was still some defiance swirling around in there, after all she had gone through. After all they had put her through. It would have been admirable if it wasn't forcing him to change his plans.

A smile twisted its way up their features. "Don't worry," he purred at her. "You'll be seeing your dear cousin again, very, very soon, Regine Ihle."

"Neàl."

Irritation filled their chest, white-hot flames engulfing his insides at the voice. They stared right at Ihle as they bit out: "What?"

"Leave her be." The words were sharp but the tone gentle. At least this one knew not to cross him, unlike that nasume playing around with the amateur detective. "We need her in one piece until she arrives."

Neal whipped his head around to glare at the man, that arrogant little—

Underestimating him as if—

Narrow-min—

Terro—

"And the girl should be easy to handle. She knows little about the hotel. Her sudden appearance, though...undesirable, changes nothing here." He flashed them an infuriating smirk. "We still have the upper hand."

Neal turned away, aware that just one more word and he would snap that neck with his bare hands and Àl knew they would relish every second, and reached out to the woman again—the one who had surrendered and yet been attacked and impaled and skewered until she bled to death—through the mirror. Her glowing eyes, pale and lacking body but not fury, materialised in the glass. She nodded, already knowing what he required of her.

They saw the edges of the wormhole spark and fizzle as if he were there himself. The wall melded back into a smooth, untainted surface. The kadin fabric slipped and fluttered to the floor, settling in the carpet of dust.

Lien returned, ready to be summoned when she was needed and the link vanished, the visions dissolving into nothingness.

‡  ‡  ‡

Sep. 09 2020 20:41 ULAT

The Gobi Desert, Mongolia

A battered house stood crooked on the horizon, framed by dark silhouettes of sharp-leaved trees which pierced the night sky. A golden glow illuminated the window and a shadow moved across it, blocking out the light for a brief moment. The ground between them glittered with a soft incandescence.

The wind picked up, the hands of death trailing up Neàl's arms and caressed their shoulders. He strode towards the nebulous shadow, sand and reddened rock crunching under his boots.

They had been patient, and their patience was going to make this all the more delightful.