Page 137 of Obsession

In bed, where Aris should’ve been, was a long, dark red dress. No note, nothing along with it but a pair of crimson slippers. The message was clear: I was to wear this. Elizabeth helped me into it, as the back is a confusing mess of ribbons and buttons, and put some makeup on me this morning.

The color of the dress reminds me of the Grand Mage’s old ceremonial garb: his hat, his jewels, his wand. Sometimes, the fact that he’s really dead strikes me like a hunger pain, but there’s no food to eat to escape the ache. Strange, that feeling, since I never even liked him, but perhaps I admired him, and it is fitting that he did not suffer for nothing; his forging of the amulet, his aging, his death, these were not tragedies. Because he made something strong enough to contain a god.

Any god.

I put my hands behind my back, watching Aris, wondering how he will phrase his message. I wonder what he will do with the ones who disagree or will not help him. I prepare myself to witness someone die.

“My people,” says Aris. He need not yell or shout; the yard is completely silent. Even the birds don’t dare chirp. “My time on this planet has come to an end. I have decided to exit and leave this world as it stands. You all have served me nobly and without question, and I therefore offer you the chance to come with me, or to remain here with the promise that you will do no harm to other human beings.”

Ryan is the only one to look up, a strange look twisting his face. Confusion.

I know what destruction means to these people, if they even are people any longer. Aris being the harbinger of doom is why they worship him. For him to deny them their paradise…

The lawn is still silent, but the atmosphere has tensed; Ryan is not the only one who is surprised.

The giant turns his gaze from Aris onto me, neck clicking from the movement. I see that he blames me—oh, is that hate, even?

“This world is too primitive,” Aris continues. “Killing it excites me no longer, and so I will move to destroy other galaxies.”

Ryan blinks and ducks his head back down, reverent once more. Appeased by this mention of destruction.

There is a long pause as his followers wait for him to continue, but Aris is finished. Silva realizes this first.

A few meters off, the older man glances between the two of us, and slowly, hesitantly, stands. “Dark One,” he says, and I almost roll my eyes. Alone, the man admittedly terrifies me—there’s just something about his bizarre silver eyes—but he is the definition of simpering in front of Aris.

“Great One,” continues Silva.

The epithets, to me, are a bit much. I still don’t know if it’s Silva or the Following who came up with all of them: Harbinger of Uncreation, the Forewarned, the Chaos, Great Chaos, Dark One, Great One, Dark Lord.

To me, he’s just Aris.

“Where you lead, we are eternally grateful to follow,” Silva says. He sounds stunned, and I’ll admit to feeling the same. I’m not sure why Aris offered them the chance to come along. Either he’s gotten attached, or he doubts they’d stick to being peaceful on Earth without his supervision.

“You all feel this way?” asks Aris, and his congregation nods once in chorus, cowls dipping. I hate it when they do that—it’s like a hive mind. “As I knew you would. Now, prepare yourselves. We leave in two days.”

The followers stand, the ground rumbling, the sound of shuffling limbs deafening. Normally, after an assembly, his cultists like to approach Aris to express their admiration. Now, however, Aris turns from them. It’s clear that he is not welcome to conversation.

A few drag their feet at this, disappointed, but the lawn eventually clears. At that point, a flash of purple appears beside Aris, in front of me.

“Oh, what a sight!” croons Sem.

Today, she is wearing a gown so long that it trails behind her like a bride’s veil, only slightly longer than her hair. It’s rather simple compared to what she had on last time—no trinkets interwoven in this one—but the dress shines like a star. For all I know, it’s actually made of starlight.

Awe runs through me, and I am made simple by her presence. If I thought my stunned appreciation toward Sem could be blamed on my scrambled brain, I was wrong. Like her brothers, there is a magnetism to her that affects the very atmosphere, but it isn’t oppressive. It’s like a pie cooling in a windowsill—a scent that drives you closer, until the steam of the fresh treat brushes your face.

I take a step forward but halt abruptly when Aris says, “Don’t.”

Right. Sem is the “good guy,” but she isn’t exactly good. None of them are. She manipulated my entire life. Yet, her beauty and grace make me forget that so easily. I feel a rush of security around her, like a flailing fish finding water. I want to trust her, just as I instantly distrusted Jaegen.

Sem clicks her tongue. "Come now, I won't hurt her."

“Stay where you are while we speak,” he says, then he jerks his head to the side. “Why have you come?”

But, he knew she would appear.

“Sem will be keeping a close watch on us,” Aris told me last night. “She will understand the assembly tomorrow as something of an olive branch and a sign that we will execute her plan.”

“You know why,” she says. “You have accepted my interference.”

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