Mechanical Gods (lgbtq+)

Chapter Thirty-One: Inside Out

A/N: Here it is! An Aiden POV, back for popular demand :)

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     Aiden stood at the rim of a dormant volcano.

     Snow covered the peak in a thick blanket of white up to its base below the slopes. No footprints were on the ground aside from the brown of the deciduous leaves and the few patches of the earth. The morning sun struggled through the darkening clouds above.

     Below, the volcano's mouth groaned and moaned, releasing wisps of steam rising from the leeward slopes of the crater; those pale snakes of vapor writhed up until they came close to the wind's brisk broom; then they have swept away into the night.

     However, even the canvas of the cold winter didn't match what Aiden felt. Standing at the peak, it was stifling hot.

     The winds picked up, piling up snows in drifts. Aiden tried to protect his eyes from the chilly blow, but it seemed the storm passed by him, scurrying away.

     Nothing moved except the shadows of the wind.

     The chilly winter air wasn't the only one that failed to penetrate Aiden's machinery. Even the shrieks and growls of the storm wind were inaudible herein. 

     The atmosphere at the crater was unusual, uncanny, and disquieting as if Aiden had been lifted off from the comforts of his home and plopped down at the peak out of the flow of time and space, and suspended in the void.

     The only sound came from a distance, and Aiden followed it. It was a distant hiss and murmur coupled with a crackling fire in a hearth. As he stepped farther into the void of darkness, the sound grew louder, but not a great deal loud. Just a little, and enough for Aiden to distinguish the muffled music of voices in a symphony of screams.

     Horrified screams.

     Aiden saw a light a hundred feet away from him.

     It was a barn.

     At the same moment, the orange light of the incandescent bulb beamed brighter than ever before from the barn door left ajar, and it slowly creaked open as Aiden approached. Aiden could feel the heat emanating from the barn, too.

     Aiden stepped inside.

     The screams stopped.

     Inside the barn was the perfect replica of Tyler's apartment. 

     All the lights were on. Ceiling lights, reading lamps, table lamps, and floor lamps blazed; and no room was left in the shadow. In those few corners were the lamplight did reach, clusters of candles were lit, standing on dish pans, pie pans, plates, and cake tins. Compared to the outside, it felt like it was daylight inside.

     Iago sat on the dark gray wing chair with his shadowed hands clamped around a glass of Dewar's. He stared at the falling snow by the window, and once in a while, took a sip of the scotch.

     A hurricane-force gust of wind slammed into the building and whined through the eaves of the barn.

     Windows rattled in front of Iago as if something out there than the wind was trying to get in with them.

     A whirling mass of snow pressed to the glass. Strangely, those hundreds upon hundreds of trembling flakes seemed to form a leering face that glared at Aiden and Iago. It hung there against the hammering of the wind, unbothered just beyond the pane as if painted on a dark canvas.

     Iago turned his head toward him. He smiled. Aiden couldn't see it through the shadows and mist that wrapped his face, but he felt it.

     "Ah, Aiden," said Iago, taking another sip of the scotch.