>>6329594You watch as hours pass—in the past, in Lithala’s memories, you observe her past self limping on unsteady legs, helped along by Helias. They hide and run, always trying to steer clear of sight.
You have seen them chased off by believers before. Attempts at reasoning with them have been met with naught by attempt at unmaking them.
The Will of Ansàrra is absolute. And they have been deemed aberrations.
So, now you see them spend their hours from sunset slithering through the glorious streets of Rasena. Carnaval brought you here when she picked you up.
It has changed little in six hundred years. The same white houses, with beautiful blue and gold domes, the same blindfolded dancers in white veils, jumping from roof to roof, singing the glory of Ansàrra.
And beneath them, two aberrations.
You watch as they crouch next to what looks like a metal pod, black and shiny even in the dim silvery light of the ring.
Of Ansàrra’s brother—
It’s still hard to sling together thoughts with everything that happened, and with everything that is about to happen. To you.
What little time you have.
You may have asked to see everything, but this will only postpone the inevitable. There is a choice to take, soon enough.
What are you going to see?
Helias from the past runs his new arms over the structure, seemingly changing some stuff about it. You can’t even begin to image what he might be doing, so you just accept it. Besides, he’s the same man who built the Eyes of the Sun.
Whatever those pods might be, he seems to know what he’s trying to do.
And right at that moment, he speaks again—in the present, taking out a large vial of liquid from the depths of his body.
The Stilladìa cringes at the sight.
“Love—is it already time?”
“Just to make sure.”
[cont.]
