Zodiac Academy 8.5: Beyond The Veil

I clung to the golden railing that ringed the great orb in The Room of Knowledge, watching Roxanya break over the loss of her one true love upon a battlefield of decimation, while my other daughter fled to the mountains, bound to a curse so dark I had never seen the likes of it before.

“Merissa,” I rasped. “There must be something we can do.”

My wife’s hand wrapped around mine, our fingers threading as a sob of grief left her. She no longer possessed any gifts of The Sight here, those powers tossed to the breeze of mortality. In this eternal palace of death, we were little more than observers of the world. I was no longer allowed to fight in wars nor shift the tides of destiny, but I could not let go of this.

There were many souls in this room, watching that same giant orb, seeing living Fae through the eyes of the stars themselves, witnessing their fates play out like a show on a screen. There were some who never left here, those who crept up to sit upon one of the gilded seats of this circular room which, at its heart, was little more than an auditorium for the living. Those who never left their perches were enraptured by the living, destroyed by all they’d lost. They watched until they became husks of themselves, barely distinguishable as Fae, their bodies nothing more than flickering shadows, but their eyes…. those ever-watching, never-blinking eyes remained. The remnants, we called them. Most of their kind watched the living from the privacy of their own rooms within the Eternal Palace, fading away without anyone even knowing they were gone. The door to the beyond crept up on them then, no doubt, when they were almost entirely lost, its silent hinges swinging open, a promise of oblivion beckoning them into its embrace.

I’d watched Fae pass straight through that door to the supposed sanctuary and solace promised beyond it, each of them satisfied with their death and at peace with the lives they’d left behind. But for those whose ties to the living were as strong as mine, passing on into the embrace of eternity was not an option.

I assumed that was why some souls remained here rather than staying in the privacy of their own personal sanctuaries within death. The Room of Knowledge was open to all, meaning the door would have to approach them in front of any who might be present, giving them a better chance at resisting its lure. So long as they latched onto something in life, they could keep their grip on this eternal palace, even when their features blurred and they all but forgot who they had once been.

“We cannot change fate,” Merissa said, her grief slicing through her beautiful features. Her deep bronze skin near glittered in this place, and her ebony hair shone like starlight. My wife had been a vision in life, and death had immortalised that beauty, the stars always seeming close to her, like she was their prized possession beneath their eternal roof. Though even they could not lay a claim to her that was deeper than mine. They could admire her all they wanted, but they could only envy the king who she had chosen as her keeper.

I accepted her words, aching to step out of this place more than I ever had before, to return to the living and destroy the man who had caused all of this. Lionel Acrux was the root of the pain in my family’s lives and the lives of so many others. If I had only seen it sooner, if I had stopped him while I still reigned on earth…

The orb was a great ball of silvery light which twisted and shifted like a pool of fog-drenched water. It used the power of the stars to show those of us lingering in death what was occurring within the realm of the living. It was enormous, taking up the centre of The Room of Knowledge, which was effectively an amphitheatre, countless gilded seats ringing the orb and rising up all around it on every side. Each soul who sat watching it could view their own heart’s desire at once. Golden arches swept overhead, grand awnings hung between them to shelter those who sat on the seats, but directly above the orb itself, a hole in the roof let the stars look down upon the glistening ball of power. The sky there was ever dark, the stars bright within it, their strength echoing over us at all times.

The Veil hummed with the power of so many battle-worn souls spilling through it at once, and I bowed my head, knowing what was coming. We had watched as Catalina and Hamish made a final stand against Lionel, and now it was time to greet them after so many years apart. There was freedom in their deaths, and it had not been in vain, I had seen that much, but it still pained me to know more of my friends had fallen.

Them, I could face. I could handle it, but it was the other man who was moving this way that I could not stand to greet. The one who should have remained in the realm of the living with my daughter, bound to her, protecting and loving her.

“Is there no justice left in the hearts of the stars?” Azriel Orion’s sharp voice drew my attention to my left where he stood watching reality play out, his dark hair unkempt as always and worry lines etched across his forehead. He reached for the orb with shaking fingers that curled tightly into a fist, his own grief potent.

In our rooms, we all had access to a window which gave a view of those we had loved and left behind in the living realm, but here we could see more, we could widen our view to watch something as all-encompassing as a battle as it took place. So here we had gathered. Here we had watched as the rebellion our children had spearheaded had fallen to ruin and Lionel Acrux had once again triumphed where he had no right to.

I pressed my hand to Azriel’s shoulder, drawing his focus to me.

“What have you seen in the great orb?” I asked, wishing to share his burden with him in hopes it might lighten the load a little. So much was taking place at once, and it was impossible to keep track of anything more than the fates of my own children.

“Lavinia has taken Lance hostage. He has offered himself to her in payment for Gwendalina’s curse,” his voice cracked. “He made a Death Bond on it, Hail.” There was pride shining in his eyes, but fear most of all, and a weighted sigh left me.

My mind sifted over this new fact. There was hope in this offering his son had made, a chance for Gwendalina to escape the binds of her curse, and my gratitude to Azriel’s boy spilled forcefully through my chest.

Azriel’s daughter, Clara, stood just beyond him, her gaze still riveted to the orb. Her dress was silver and flowing, her eyes bright as they reflected the swirling glow contained within the sphere of knowledge. She looked a little younger than the age she had truly died, her brown hair cut to her ears and the freckles dusting her nose looking as though they had seen the kiss of the sun recently.

I squeezed Azriel’s arm. “Your son’s love knows no bounds, and I know well that he would die for my daughter. But he is no fool. He would not make such terms with no hope in sight.”

Azriel swallowed thickly, nodding to me, distress written into his features.

“Dad,” Clara croaked, turning away from the orb and pressing her face to Azriel’s chest. “She’s going to torture him.”

Azriel held her tight, and I turned back to Merissa, who was lost to the orb’s offerings again while tears tracked silently down her cheeks. To see her like that was another knife in my unbeating heart, and rage took root in me, climbing up through my chest like ivy growing beneath a baking sun. I may have been long dead, but my wrath was as robust a thing as it had been in the Fae realm.

“I will not stand for these fates,” I snarled, moving closer to Merissa. “Keep watching over them, I will go to the stars.”

I turned my back on the orb and made a path for the arching doors, hostility decorating my face.

“Hail,” Merissa called after me, her voice so full of grief it broke what was left of my restraint. “Bargain with them. I will offer anything to free our children from the curse of the stars.”

“Of course, my love,” I replied, then shoved the doors wide and made a few souls stumble aside from the ferocity of my sparking aura.

Merissa knew well I would do as she willed, but we had tried countless times to offer anything to the stars to break the curse laid upon our daughters by Clydinius. The fallen star, a creature who had not followed its rightful path once it had tumbled from the heavens long ago, twisting the laws of old and changing fate. It should have released the power within, offering it up to the world as a final gift as was decided by the ancient stars themselves. Instead, Clydinius had thwarted nature and unbalanced the true path, setting a curse upon my family for generation after generation with the deal it had offered my ancestor.

The broken promise had taunted me so deeply in life, and now it remained to taunt me in death. I knew its truth. It was the second truth I had perceived within the afterlife, finding the memories of all that had happened in the lead up to my demise and watching them play out from the sanctuary of my room in the Eternal Palace, the first being that of Lionel’s Dark Coercion over my mind.

The bitterness of that terrible day still laid deep within me, and I did not believe it would ever be put to rest until Lionel’s soul passed into the eternal fields of chaos, hurled through the Harrowed Gate, or tossed down into the raging river which led to that place. Only pain awaited him there.

He deserved that, but far more besides. I would see him through the boundary of The Veil myself, I would walk him on his final path and lay him at the feet of the one they called Crucia. A being of death designed by the stars themselves to inflict unimaginable torment upon the souls of the wicked for all of time. That creature possessed blades forged from agony itself, able to cut apart the essence of a Fae and bind them in infinite suffering.

Only then would my soul find peace.

I moved across the landscape of The Veil, pacing through the picturesque valley beyond the palace, bathed in the golden glow of the sun above. A tower lay to the east of the Eternal Palace, its shadow long and its gaze perpetual. The Stars’ Spire, where starlight lived within the walls and moonbeams danced like living creatures across the ornate floor. The whisper of the stars themselves carried on the wind that swept through its glassless windows, the taste of destiny colouring the air.

I didn’t pause as I reached the stone archway which led into the tower and stepped onto the stairwell where few Fae ever dared to step, climbing the spiralling stairs that rose up and up forever, the structure as white as purest sunlight and almost blinding to look upon.

I climbed ever on, the power of the beings above pressing in as I approached the entrance to the Halls of Fate. I would not be permitted there, but a king of the living still held sway as a king in the afterlife. They listened to me even when it meant nothing, but at least they would hear me. And today, they would do more than that, I was determined of it.

I made it to the door that stood weightlessly at the peak of the stairway, nothing below and nothing above. It was a simple door forged of something dark, like the absence of light between stars, and the space around it was foggy, the strange clouds made of a lambent, sparkling light.

I pressed my hand to it, the forces in the air trying to make me retreat, to turn me away from this need of mine. All wants faded in The Veil, that was what they’d told me when I arrived. Eventually, I would want for nothing, because I would either possess everything, find peace, and move on, or I would become a remnant. One of those lost souls with their ever-watching eyes, clinging to the living and losing grasp on true death. The stars often told us to seek solace, find acceptance, embrace harmony. Then we would truly rest. We would feel the call of the Destined Door, and we would walk through it into bliss.

There was no resting for me, and I would not become one of those ruptured beings who had forgotten their own name. I would remain Hail Vega and stand at the side of my wife for all of eternity. But while my daughters remained in peril and Lionel Acrux still walked the world, I would always be afflicted by their suffering, and I would not bow to the whims of the stars while my family were in danger.

“Open this door,” I commanded, my voice ringing through the air with all the conviction of a monarch. I was power embodied, and they would not keep me out this day. They would hear me and my demands, and they would damn well answer them too.

“Father of the flames,” they spoke, but they did not open the fucking door. “We know what it is you seek. But fate lies not in our hands.”

“You are the stars!” I boomed. “If it does not lie with you, then what are you worth? Are you nothing but false gold? Gleaming prettily with no true value at your core?”

“You know well that we cannot intervene. Clydinius holds their fates in his grip.”

“He is but one star!” I roared, my voice echoing out into the strange clouds around this door. “How can you not have the might to take on just one of your brethren? What greatness do you truly possess if you cannot do this?”

“Once a star has fallen, it is beyond our intervention. All that lies in the living realm can only be influenced by our power, not ruled by it.”

“Then send another star down there to destroy your brother,” I commanded.

“Clydinius has broken the laws of old. When we fall, we must release our power. No other star would dare do what he has done and defy the Origin. It has already led to a mighty unbalance. Chaos cannot be righted by more chaos. Now rest, regal soul of the eternal, this is not your fight.”

“It is my daughters’ fight, so it is mine,” I snarled.

“It is not your fight,” they repeated, and I felt their presence withdrawing, leaving me with no answers nor solutions.

But I was not even close to done. I would find a way to send word to my daughters, my children, and tell them what the broken promise was. I’d learn how to push deeper into the barriers between worlds and offer them the truth that the stars continued to keep from them.

If the stars truly wanted balance, they would tell my children the truth of the promise so that they might keep it. But I knew why the stars held off; I had sensed it when I’d questioned them on it once. Even stars could feel fear, it seemed. And the last thing they wanted was for Roxanya and Gwendalina to choose to raise Clydinius into Fae form, the power he could wield then would be some unimaginable terror. But the stars had just confirmed there was no other way. So I would make it my duty to force them into relinquishing that truth to my children.