Chapter 58: The First Queen (1/2)

As I walk across the circle, I sense power beneath my feet and realize what is happening. The untrained mages outside are not casters, they are fuel.

Semiramis is casually channelling a spell that will change the world, sitting on a comfortable chair, while a hundred mortals unwittingly do her bidding. I have no idea how she pulled that off, but I know that the skill required to do so should not exist at all. The glyph pulsates with more energy than the Herald ever had. I feel like I am standing on the surface of the sun, only separated from my impending doom by a hair-thin barrier and my host’s goodwill. When she invites me to sit, I comply.

The ancient queen leans forward in a suggestive way that shows a hint of cleavage, and I do believe those who appreciate this kind of thing would have lost their minds by now. The gesture is sensual without being vulgar, and the pose is so easy and graceful it is worth painting. Despite the dire straits I find myself in, I try to commit it to memory.

To my surprise, she serves me a cup of infusion from her pot. The liquid has an exotic reddish color and an earthy smell with a hint of spice.

“Try it.”

I hesitate, then realize that I should not refuse her hospitality. I have pretended to drink tea on numerous occasions. This is but one more.

I wet my lips with the liquid and its fragrance covers my tongue. As expected, earthy and spicy.

Its warmth covers my palate and I swallow. It has a minty aftertaste, peculiar and refreshing.

Hold on.

I just had tea, as a vampire. Impossible!

My eyes widen despite my attempts to remain composed, and my host smiles lightly. She drinks as well, then gazes at me with a hawkish focus. I feel like a deer before a pack of wolves. Her tone turns glacial and laden with threat.

“Before we go any further, does my son know you are here?”

“No… I mean, I do not think so?”

“When was the last time you saw him?”

“In dreams or in person?”

My answer surprises her, I can tell, yet soon enough the interrogation continues.

“Interesting… Answer for both conditions.”

“1803 in person, and 1812 in dreams.”

“Ah. You were one of the discarded spawns. Lucky you. Well, you are not a threat and I know who set us on a collision course.”

“Who?”

She lifts a beautiful hand, pointing up. I realize before lifting my eyes what she is referring to.

“I thought it only watched?”

“Mostly yes, but it does pull on the strands of fate on occasion. Answer me one more question. What are you doing here?”

“We are close to my city. I thought that perhaps, the spell was a threat meant to destroy me as I was nearing my goal.”

“Is that so? What is this goal you are talking about?”

“I need to remain in control of a city for twenty years to be officially recognized as a city master. This will allow me to use a loophole in the Accords to circumvent the execution order against me.”

“Ah, I see.”

The controlling glare of the judging queen fades away and I am once more but a valued guest in the world’s most remarkable tea party. She takes a sip and continues:

“If you are not here on your Master’s behalf, then we are not enemies. You find me at a most curious time little one. What are you called?”

“Ariane.”

“Ariane, mhh. An old name. In any case, I find myself occupied by this dreary task until the end of summer solstice, and I am in a mood to entertain. It has been a long time since I had a conversation for the sake of it. I assume you have questions?”

“Yes!” I blurt out, “Plenty!”

Her expression turns patient and understanding, like a teacher with an interested student.

“Ask then.”

“What are we?”

Semiramis looks stunned for a moment, then laughs merrily. The sound is like chimes in the wind, ethereal and pleasant.

“Aaaa yes, I can see why you could resist me so. Truly, you have a peculiar mind little one. Very well then, let me tell you a story. It will satisfy your curiosity I am sure, and there is no better way to pass the time. Ahem.”

The queen sits straighter and captivates me with her dark eyes. Gradually, the world around me fades until I can feel warm sand beneath my feet, the smell of heated stone and spices and the din of a humanity that existed at the dawn of time, before reason and enlightenment made man the center of the world.

“Almost three millenia ago, there was a land between two rivers where city states grew like roses in the desert. They flourished into empires or were sacked and dominated, but in the end, they would all perish to leave the scene to others. I was born in one such kingdom.

“It was a time where magic was not hidden. It was one more tool in the panoply of majesty that all rulers coveted, as only those favored by the gods could wield such blessings. When I was twelve, I manifested this magic, and used it to kill my father.

“Instead of being put to death, I was married to king Ninos as his third wife. He was eighteen and needed the support of gifted individuals to secure his rule and his line. Three years later, I gave birth to Nirari, my son. He is my only male child to reach adulthood. The others were assassinated.

“When he reached fifteen, he led our armies against barbarians from the West and emerged victorious. His arrows were the first to slay a foe and his chariot, the first into their lines. His skill and ferocity were made legend then, and when the Hittites slew my husband, I became queen with his support. By then, I had eliminated the other consorts and their progeny while warding off dozens of attempts on our lives. We had poured molten gold in the mouths of mercenaries bought to kill us and lathered the genitals and anus of assassins with honey before burying them in red ant’s nests. I had sent terrible curses on our enemies so that their fingers would rot and maggots would crawl out of their head as they were still conscious.”

Oh. Wow. And I thought brother Achilles and I had big fights.

“In the next few years, Babylon became unmatched. Tribes and cities would send us tithes and offerings of slaves and gold. They would send their princesses to give my sons descendants of their blood, but it was not enough.

“I was the greatest mage who ever lived and still, I knew that I had access but to a fragment of what could be done. I found reflections of alien planes and strange people, civilizations before which we were but children squabbling in the dirt. I needed more time than a human body could provide, much more time. And so, I searched far and wide for something that could pierce the veil of our reality, a reality that resisted magic more than most. It needed to be powerful enough to grant me what I desired, and honorable or patient enough not to destroy us. And in the most remarkable of places, I found it.”

“What? What did you find?”

Once more she lifts a finger. I am too stunned to accept this answer.

“Impossible!”

“Very much possible. The Watcher was all of that and more. You may think of it as both an almighty being and a toddler. The most accurate description I can give of it, is that of the sliver of a creator god. One day it will die and give birth to a new universe.”

“No that’s… You can’t know all of that. It’s impossible.”

Genuine dread constricts my chest and freezes my mind. She can understand what is unthinkable? That would make her mind that of a god and I refuse… I absolutely refuse to accept this. No human mind should comprehend this. It isn’t right! Surely...

“Trust me, I had a very, very long time to study my partner. Communication was arduous at first, but I did not give up. When I told you that I was the greatest mage who ever lived, it was not hubris. I really was, and I still am.”

I force myself to calm down a bit, surprised by my lack of control. I consider the might of the spell under us and the hundred people outside, laboring to an end they probably do not even understand. She can manipulate all of them, mesmerize me and cast this incredible working all at once, while sitting at a table having tea. Yes, I can believe her, and it terrifies me.

After a pause, she resumes her outlandish tale.

“I struck a bargain with it. I needed immortality, it needed knowledge. It was, I think, curious, and a little bored. In return for my prize, he asked to be let in. I could not achieve this. He cannot come to this planet, no more than a grown man can get into a thimble. So instead I offered him an aperture through which he could see and even interact by the tiniest of margins. Vessels to carry his essence. You.”

“Are you telling me… That we are tools so that the Watcher can spy on this world?!”

“Not spying. Spying implies a malevolent intent. It learns and, perhaps, entertains itself. I received the power to alter my essence into that of an immortal and in return, I created the elixirs filled with its essence to share and spread to humans who would interest it throughout the ages. The unleashed alien potential turned them into Progenitors, the first ones, whose bloodline powers reflected their very nature. All vampires carry this foreign mark. That is why your existence is denied by the sun purifier, why you cannot create life and need to steal it from others, why calls to a creator God deny your existence and repulse you, and why the soul of the person you were needs to depart before you can rise again. The Watcher cannot create here, only alter, and your nature is reflected by this.”

“Wait, hold on, wait. I still have my soul. I am still… me! It’s just changed! No?”

Semiramis shows something that I cannot accept: pity.

“You believe you are the same? Oh, poor thing. Her memories and spirit are yours now, but her soul is gone to wherever souls go, replaced by vampiric essence.”

“I… what? No, you are wrong. I am me! I am still me! Ariane Beatrice Lucille Reynaud! This is a lie, a travesty. Papa, he… I cannot accept this.”

“You are still you, yes, but the mortal girl is dead. I am so sorry.”

I don’t have a soul? I Don’t have a soul, at all? I am… not her? Then, when I woke up in that cell under the fortress, those were my first moments? Then… the human Ariane died under Master’s tender care, and her last three days were spent lying broken and bloody. Tortured. Defiled. Just for having addressed a man at a party?

I look at the queen, expecting a hint of disdain or amused cruelty, but there is none. When she sees my doubt, she adds with a soft voice:

“I am telling the truth, on my honor I do so swear.”

This is bullshit.

I thought I was continuing being me, a daughter, a sister and a friend. I thought I was honoring myself by enduring despite what life had thrown at me. And now it turns out that it was all for nothing? I was masquerading a dead woman after stealing her violated body? This was all for nothing?

It was all a lie?

Is this what this world really is about? Cruelty and malice without end? Endless destruction without meaning? Suddenly, all I have witnessed surges back in me, unhindered by my usually cold nature. I remember those children who died in their own dejection as cholera ravaged their frail insides, those people murdered and scalped for being at the wrong place or those others summarily executed for being the wrong color. When I arrived in Marquette, there were whores stabbed in the chest and left to drown in their own blood and men with gut wounds who died slowly, their blood poisoned by their own shit, for nothing more than a fistful of coin. Was there a reason for that? The girls barely entering puberty who would show up at the Dream pregnant by some relatives, those poor assholes with missing body parts left to die by the side of the mine, did they serve a purpose? All of those, I ignored because they were mortals, and suffering and dying is what mortals do. Now, it’s coming back, all at once. All the pointless misery and senseless suffering. All the horror that can be blamed on nothing but fate. Was there a point to Ariane’s existence, to be snuffed like this, so cruelly? And she was not the only one. What about Penelope who retired seven years ago, only for her to lose her husband and children in a flood and hang herself afterwards? The Stevensons whose only child died of a strange and painful disease? Is there a point? At all?

There is no God. If there is one, it is merciless beyond measure.

I hate it.

I hate everything. I hate being cheated by fate. I hate having no immortal soul. I hate the lies I told Papa and myself. Do I even have a right to call him father? I’m just some parasite who stole the lifeless husk that was left of his daughter after Master had his fun. Fuck.

“Ariane, look at my hand, I will make it all go away.”

“Don’t you fucking dare.”

Annoying bitch. Did I ask you something?

“Little one, it is not weakness to seek help in difficult times.”

“Would you erase your own thoughts because they are not convenient?”

“I have.”

I lift my head in surprise at this admission. Her face is candid and open, and though I suspect it to be artifice, I am still appreciative of the effort. When she sees that I am paying attention, she continues.

“Some knowledge will destroy the mind. But enough about me, am I correct in assuming that you have a bit of an identity crisis?”

“And faith crisis, yes.”

“If you would refuse my magic, would you still take my advice?”

“No, thank you.”

A flash of anger, gone in an instant. You are angry? Really? Who gives a shit? Not me and not the original Ariane, because she’s dead.

What a fucking joke.

My dad, no, Ariane’s dad, I lied to him. I truly am a monster wearing the face of his child. Just a thief born from an alien God’s perverse curiosity. So, Watcher, you enjoy watching your pet creature fuck, drink, and kill huh? You sick bastard.

God fucking dammit.

Alright, enough, I need to calm down. Now is not the time to panic. I pinch the bridge of my nose and resist the urge to glance at the vampire star. Normally, it would fill my heart with calm, like coming home. Now, I just want that transcendental arsehole to get a comet up its cosmic arse or something. Since I am still facing the second most dangerous entity I have ever come across, I close my eyes and do the next best thing.

In an instant, my mental fortress appears before me and I leave the bedroom at its heart to walk through its inner halls. Tortuous hallways and illusory rooms fade in the background as I walk to the entrance. I will never get lost here, this home is mine. I know the emplacement of each memento, each statue and each tree. When I reach the grand entrance, the double doors bang open as a reflection of my mood and the garden greets me in all its glory. The purple tendrils look more subdued today, almost quiescent.

I cannot resist.

I look up to the dark aster that I always considered an ally. It looks down and once more to the familiar split pupil and red sclera. Its unconditional acceptance fills my heart with peace. And grief.

I died. She died. And now I’m here.

I will deal with this. I just need a moment.

I prepare to bask in the otherworldly light but something tugs at me. Several tendrils are insistently pointing in a direction.

I follow and my gaze lands on a distant wall. There is something happening there. I draw nearer and look at the border of my mind. As usual, a forest of thorny roots and branches without end blocks anyone coming in, or at least it should. There is something there that doesn’t belong, moving quietly through the otherwise impregnable wall. I focus and see the strange thing.

This place is me, and that thing is not.

I become more aware of that part of my mind, I survey it and gauge it. I can feel the wrongness, but I cannot identify it properly.

I sharpen my will to a point and inspect the wall strand by strand. This is me, this is me, this is me…

The anomaly moves back, trying to escape. This is not me. Those are not mine! Somebody is trying to…

I open my eyes to see Semiramis’ hand move back by a fraction of an inch. Our eyes meet.