The dwelling of the Sensitives where the ruling council convened enhanced all the best parts of me. A place devoid of complexities, devoid of the spectrum of human emotions that meddled with my powers.
My beacon of rest.
When I entered The Assigner´s Hall awaiting applause, or at least, a warm welcome, I found nothing.
All the Sensitives of Tripolis should have been there, preparing for our period of brief recreation.
The silver curtains draping the round Hall revealed all that I considered the Assigner´s greatest weaknesses. Vanity, materiality, narcissism. All the traits Cleo had in common with him.
While my siblings reveled in the shrine he built for us, an endless peaceful protectorate made of tellurian possessions – a silver floor that reflected our human forms back to us, lounges filled with life-granting, translucent Gore-Tex potions, love of extravagance and prominence that came from our superiority – I despised it. Maybe I just despised him and associated all his creations with this irreverent feeling – regardless. All I wanted was to see my brother.
Once I stabilized the core and merged with its energy, I expected to wake up on the hills of Milennia, at the gates of the Assigner´s Hall.
Instead, I could feel the physical limitations of this hosting body as soon as I came to my senses - at the edges of Milennia.
Something was wrong. And when I finally reached the Hall, emptiness laughed at me, the way Cleo always laughed at me.
When I began to think I´d spend the following months alone with my fears, deep from within the endless spinning Hall, Vectra came to stand before me. Her grand entrances baffled me, especially since her neutrality was supposed to be the driving force of her nature.
Being an assistant to the most conceited creature of the galaxy did that to a being.
Vectra´s purple skin radiated warmth. The one thing she had in common with . I hated when she used his qualities to trick me into submission. Her influence poured on me, forcing my emotions to behave. As the serenity spread in my veins, Vectra acceded, keeping a polite distance.
"Anchor, welcome."
"Vectra," I greeted the assistant politely. "Where is everyone? Where is my brother?"
The silver rings on her brows and lower lip stretched as she morphed her features into a dishonest smile. "Lord of the Light is indisposed. We cleared the City of Milennia and ordered all Sensitives back to their posts. You arrived later than usual."
I could drop to my knees if Vectra wasn´t in control of my emotions, muscling through the effort to keep me in check. She might have had her hands clasped together on her lap to project informality and friendliness, but she was struggling. I felt the vigor with which she managed my power.
"Vectra, I will ask one more time," I said, casting an appeal rather than a threat. "Where is Areilycus?"
Vectra suddenly let go. There was no more pulling on my mental strings, I felt the full scope of my indignation rattling through the Hall, springing free. That was her way of casting an appeal.
"He´s not well, dear." Vectra made one step towards me. I retreated. One step back.
She dropped her mask of misplaced politeness. The Assigner must have left Milennia if she dropped her defense. I had a million questions, none of which would satisfy the dread ruling my better judgment if answered.
"Why did he send him to Tripolis on the day of the storm?"
Vectra motioned for us to sit in one of the lounges. I shook my head. Her displeased facial expressions did not pain me as much as they used to whenever I crossed a line and she had to correct me.
"Vectra!"
The Hall quaked. Vectra couldn´t rebound objects, she was helpless. Unless she´d unleash her power on me. Which seemed like a non-starter if she wanted to keep our good relations and Milennia intact without the presence of the Assigner.
"I don´t know," she answered solemnly. "The Assigner does what´s best for each world under his care."
"Endangering a Sensitive that´s keeping the worst of humanity in check is best for each world under his care?" I parroted, sarcasm dripping from each syllable I spoke. Vectra wasn´t a fan of sarcasm or irony, it pained her. It went in direct opposition to every principle her essence was made of.
"You care too much, Anchor."
"We were instructed to treat one another like family!"
"We are family, on the most basic level. We all come from the same substance. You decided to make it unnecessarily personal. To give your siblings human names, entertain outside of your jurisdiction – that is not a job of an anchor, Mila."
Vectra swung away from me. She spoke with the voice of the Assigner, as I spoke with the voice of a primitive emotion I was supposed to rise above.
"Let me see him. Please."
Vectra´s words lingered on my mind, to the point I couldn´t tell if she was the one perpetuating the repetition or my allegiance to her status, and the respect I had for her wisdom blinded me from focusing on what was most important.
"That´s not possible, dear. He´s volatile, no Sensitive can go near him at the moment. Especially not the one that shares his essence. He could hurt you. Or worse, you could hurt him. Tripolis would become unstable."
It was too convenient that the Assigner wasn´t here. I could blow Milennia to pieces if only he was lurking somewhere around here. With Lord of the Light sick, the Assigner was as far away from the sacred city as possible. Unleashing chaos would be pointless if he wasn´t here to witness it.
Your time will come.
"So, he´s rotating," I guessed. "Ari. He can´t settle, right?"
Vectra adopted a deferential tone. "He´s stuck in the solid matter of flesh and bone. The negative charge in the storm somewhat damaged his essence."
I gnawed at my lip. This was no regular Diamond Storm. This was no info-dumping medical briefing, nor a meditative preparation to recharge my lingering faith in the Assigner he had sensed months ago. We all knew what kind of damage a cyclical galactic storm cause to a Sensitive who had no chaos, no negative charge. And yet.
There he stood, forged in determination to obey an order. And there I stood, by his side, obligated to anchor Tripolis´ core. Something was going on.
"Who´s looking after him right now?"
"The Assigner is on a mission. He will bring help."
"Damn it, Vectra! Talk to me!"
The sound of her stilted breathing filled my sensory receptors. Where the Assigner saw the assistant, the mouth which dealt with unpleasant consequences he tended to cause, I saw a friend who struggled to navigate the line between servitude and loyalty.
"Milada, there is nothing I can say. I had not been briefed on anything past the point of your brother´s … physical state. I´m sorry. You have to go back to Tripolis and await further instruction."
I winced at the harshness of her tone accompanied by the cold delivery of her rehearsed lines. I spent too much time on Tripolis. I was too focused on guarding life and death. Meanwhile, Milennia was plunged into the Assigner´s schemes for which my twin now suffered.
What was the little gremlin up to?
"You said worlds under the Assigner´s care."
Vectra tilted her head by merely an inch. "Where are you going with this?"
"Hypothetically, if I brought Ari to a world outside of his care …"
"Anchor."
Vectra reached out to my essence, leaning heavily to stilt the growth of chaos.
She wished for peace and obedience, I felt peace and resolution.
"Love is a powerful thing. A good thing. But too much of a good thing can kill you," she reasoned.
What a dangerously bad time to repeat her mantra to me. I looked at my friend, the one who stood between me and my family. Whatever decision I was going to make, it would be irreversible. No one could hear the scream in the vacuum of space, or so they said. But I could hear my twin´s essence screaming as clearly as I heard the worlds in galaxies free of the Assigner´s care calling me. It was time that I answered.