Paragon

⊰❉⊱ 70 ⊰❉⊱

"Life is only precious because it ends, kid."

― Rick Riordan, The Son of Neptune

"Tara Fletcher!" A flash of a dark grin was the first thing I saw on the stairs.

Paragon's hall of Elders.

I cast my eyes about the extravagance in the heart of Bank. High arches, priceless paintings and marble sculptures that had been kept in the same condition since they were carved.

An elder in a high collared military coat–I immediately recognised from my early days as an initiate–approached me. She used to hold as much interest in me as the fur rugs on the floor–or perhaps she was merely better at hiding it. She was brunette when I knew her, changed to a dirty blonde now. More vanity.

"Elder Helland." I answered, and dropped into the formality of a short bow.

She laughed heartily as she reached the bottom of the stairs and waved me off with a hand. She was classically beautiful and she wielded it well. Something to be wary of.

"There's no need for that, you are of the same standing in these walls." She dismissed, taking in my eyes quickly and no doubt measuring the fullness of gold in them to her own.  She had a good half century on me regardless–but that did not mean she was better in combat. The only immortal I would never dismiss was Vanilla. But dismissing any of these immortals would be a costly mistake and I was not such a fool.

A few lounged on chais lounges, inhaling the smoke of a pipe, or duelling on the battlefield of a chess board. Some seemed to keep to themselves with one hand in a book–but they still gravitated to this place.

She drew her gloved hand out to me with a slow smirk.

I flicked my gaze down to it. There was no need to create enemies this early in the day.

I clasped my own around her hand and shook it.

"Selena." She greeted.

"It appears you already have my own." I answered, removing my hand and tucking it into my coat.

She tilted her head in appraisal. "I was in the hall when the whispers travelled about Cordius' new blood, yes. You made a name for yourself and then vanished."

I ignored the compliment. "Is that why you brought me here?" I asked, making the jump to assume it was her summons from that phone last night.

She tucked her hands behind her back and straightened. I glanced at the immaculate buttoning and traditional military trim. Perhaps she had served in wars before my time... Canons were a nasty business.

"I'm not, no. I simply wanted to see what all the fuss was about." She winked, making my eyebrows rise.

So, who did I need to thank–

"Try upstairs. I believe they have a new batch." She finished, turning on her boot heel before I had a chance to make sense of her words. Batch? She was already leaning over one of the arm chairs conversing with Elders I didn't know and mocking their strategy. I glanced back up the looming marble steps. The sky light above cast it in detailed patterns and swirls of golden sun.

The light conversations around the hall had seemed to pause for a beat before resuming. Or perhaps it had been my imagination. My world was on a tilt and I had no way of rebalancing it. Not with this blood in my veins. 

So I took the first step forward and ascended the stairs. 

These rooms, these halls... they were from a different time. A different Tara. One that fought for her own savage right to survival the only way she knew how. Learn quickly. The others weren't as lucky. But they didn't all perish. I just didn't keep track of them. The moment I earned the right to an independent life–within Paragon's limits–I was gone. I had visited my friends from my mortality but never showed my face. I was a ghost looking through the veil. Showing my face would have only made it harder for everyone. I was better off being the young woman that died for her country in a muddy field that had long been forgotten about.