The Eternity Chronicles

[Alvis Alendran]

Okay, I have to admit, I wrote the original draft of this story when I was all of 15 years old. >< I've been redrafting it into something that better reflects my writing at this point, and at the encouragement of someone who's opinion I value quite highly, I'm posting up the first chapter at least.

The Eternity Chronicles
A New Beginning​

Gleaming steel caught in the light from the street lamps, and the muted ring of the blades clashing filled the small alley. One fighter was clearly giving all he had, pushing himself to new heights of swordsmanship, ducking and feinting, his grace that of a master. The other seemed barely to be exerting himself, his paired blades moving in perfect, flawless harmony, the long sword blade in his right hand making precise, and elegant moves, while his other hand held a dagger in the reverse grip, making constant jabs, and slashes, making the opponent constantly react to the attacks, and not gain any momentum. The sword blades locked together, and the combatants closed chest to chest, each sizing the other up. One was breathing hard, and looked almost panicked. The other was as calm, and cold as a man could be. As they broke apart, the dagger came in, punching into the underarm, and stabbing into the heart of the foe. He gagged, and spat blood. The other man held a small crystal to the wound, and the crystal began to glow with an inner white light. Withdrawing the blade, and wiping it clean on the clothes of the now dead man, he sheathed his weapons, and pocketed the crystal. He left the alley.

His steps were light across the pavement, cool grey eyes keeping track of the movements of the people on the street. No one reacted to his passage. No one really cared what had happened within an alley, that a life longer than any they could really reckon had been snuffed out in an instant. The man shook his head. Humanity had never ceased to disappoint him in one way or another. He was glad he'd never truly been a member of it. He knew much of it, and had seen some of the great achievements that had been wrought by the hands of man. He had stood and watched as the great pyramids had been erected, the amazing precision achieved by the people then. He had looked out across the ocean from the lighthouse built in Egypt, so many centuries past. He had witnessed the rise of the race of man from his perspective, and the fall of his own people. For thousands of years he'd watched, and in his own way, protected this race. He looked to the sky, and allowed himself a tight smile. He'd walked the world for twelve thousand five hundred and eighty one years. He was one of those who were called Eternals. He made his way towards the place he rested at in this particular city.

The apartment was small, and rather plain. He saw no point in luxury on the typical basis. At times he missed the extravagance of the early portions of the twentieth century, and shook off that feeling of nostalgia. It served no purpose for him. He lifted a small envelope that had been pushed under his door as he entered. He had a network of contacts that searched for rumours of other of his kind. He set the crystal that he'd used earlier in the night. It still glowed white with trapped light. He knew that the light came from the trapped soul of his enemy. It was the source of every Eternals longevity, the trapped souls of the fallen. Rumours of Eternals were rare, mostly because his network was sporadic at best. Humans had the poor habit of dying after a century or so, and they were difficult to replace, if he even noticed their death. However, he was fortunate this time, since there was a rumour in it that detailed the activities of a likely candidate. He sighed as he read of the deaths of humans, how the police believed it was likely gang related from the stabbing deaths. Most eternals fed on the souls of humans. It was easier, since few of them could match an eternal of age, but the souls were not strengthened by centuries of life. Thusly, they burned out faster, requiring more. He only took the souls of Eternals, and even then, he only took it from those old and powerful enough to last. He would leave for the city in the morning. After all, this, Los Angeles was a long way away. The walk would be long from his place in Chicago.

The trip was indeed long, but was made easier by the advantages of being Eternal. The power of the souls kept his metabolism at bay, removing his need for food or drink. He was still capable of consuming both, and indeed did rather frequently, but it bestowed no benefits for him, other than enjoyment of fine foods. After so many thousand years, his endurance and stamina were so far beyond human capabilities, he did not feel tired from the simple act of walking. He did not stop for rest that he did not need, and simply walked for the enjoyment of it, seeing the lands that he spent a great deal of time in. He had a deep distrust of more modern technology, such as motorized vehicles, and would not trust his life to them. When he deigned to cross the oceans to return to Europe or Asia, he did so at expense by hiring a sailing vessel. It had been nearly two decades since he had made that trip. All he carried was a shoulder bag that contained little more than a few changes of clothes, and a few extra blades. His pace was unhurried, and the days turned into weeks, and the weeks into over a month as he made his way across the country. He avoided cities when he could, preferring the company of the open road. The huge buildings of the city he sought started to come into view. His pace didn't change as he saw his destination. It was with a little distaste that he entered. He would need accommodations.

On a whim, he decided to forgo the utilitarian living quarters, and seek something a little higher end. He had a man unlocking the door that led into the place he'd been considering. The door was beautifully made, all carved out of a dark wood. It was a good indication.
“It's been a little while since we've had anyone interested in this place.” The man said idly.
“And why is that? Is there some problem that I am not aware of?” He asked coldly.
“Oh, no! The previous owner was killed in a car accident, and his children were fighting over who would inherit the penthouse. After a while, they just gave it up. Just a few weeks ago really. But the legal fighting was going on for almost a year. So, you're the first one to see it.” The door swung open, and they entered. The place was very large, wide open and spacious.
“One would hardly believe that you were on the roof of a structure in this place.”
“That was the idea of the place. Wanted to make it look more like a mansion or the like. This is the main living room, as you can see.” He could indeed. A few armchairs were laid out, as well as a large sofa. All of them were made of a wonderfully tooled leather that glistened in the low lighting. Practised eyes picked out every detail of the place. Dark wood trim contrasted with the lighter carpeting, while all of the cabinets in the room were that same wood. “You've got a full stereo, sixty inch TV, surround sound, the works. What do you think so far?”
“Very impressive. How long is a lease for?”
“Life time lease.”
“How long?” The second time the voice was much colder. The other man swallowed.
“Ninety-nine year lease.”
“And the cost is likely very prohibitive, am I correct?”
“Yes sir. Most people really can't afford a place like this.”
“I estimate you're agency asks for two million dollars for it, am I correct?”
“Actually, we ask for three. Fully furnished after all.”
“Of course, careless of me to forget that. I believe I'll take it.” The man perked up.
“You will? I mean, you've not even seen the rest of the place yet, and-”
“I will take it, and offer you an additional half million if you can make the arrangements tonight.”
“That's impossible.”
“Everything can be done. I repeat the offer of a half million dollars. Make this happen.”
“What name should be on the lease?”
“Mine of course. Don Alessio Amadeus von Storintino. I will give you the proper spelling.”

Alessio reclined the armchair. The thickly cushioned leather was exceedingly comfortable. He'd discovered a fully supplied bar, and was sampling a bottle of eighteen year old scotch. The soul energy offset any effects of poisons or similar effects. Alcohol had no effect on him in any way, but the flavour of the scotch was pleasant. There would be time enough for the hunt come evening. For now, he had time to enjoy some of the simple pleasures that he had denied himself for quite some time. All the documents were done, the penthouse was his. Money was never a concern for him, and never had. He'd always been able to acquire currency, and after the invention of banking, his life had been made far easier. Investments had turned out extremely well, and he was easily one of the wealthier people in the world. The wealth had been spread out, hiding it from the eyes of the world. Fewer people asked questions that way.

Alessio walked the streets now that night had fallen onto the land. The darkness was his ally, and he knew it well. He dressed to better blend into it. He wore a longer coat, to better keep the weapons he carried concealed. He was hunting for his prey. One of the gifts of the Eternals of age, was the ability to pick out the presence of others of their kind using both their eyes, and more importantly, by sheer mental prowess. It was only after several millennia that an eternal could then learn the trick to hiding their own presence. Alessio scanned the area, letting his mind try and pick out the feeling of others. He did catch a few, but they were not aged enough to be his target. He ignored the humans around him, and kept hunting. The night was nearing the point of waning, when he decided to end the boredom. He selected a presence, and marked it for investigation. Perhaps one of these weaklings would lead him to his true prey.

Alessio slipped into a alley, and crouched, gathering the strength in his legs. As an Eternal aged, he was able to continue, through work, to build his strength. Alessio had been diligent in his efforts through the millennia, and thusly it was a simple matter to make the leap to the roof of the eight story building. He landed lightly, and looked down at the street. He visually picked out his prey. She moved confidently, the confidence of one who has not seen the true powers of the world. She moved into an alley, looking around as she adjusted her coat. It was painfully easy for one like Alessio to pick out the sword she tried to conceal there. Alessio waited, watching as she pulled her coat back on properly, and started to walk again. He kept pace from the roof, wanting her to be farther away from people. He could tell she'd not been an Eternal for more than a few years. She looked to be in her early twenties. When she was far enough in, he stepped off the roof. The fall was short, and he crouched, absorbing the impact of landing. The landing was almost silent, and enough for her to not notice. He stood, and dropped his coat. He noisily drew out his sword.

She started, and spun, trying to draw out her sword from under her coat. Alessio rolled his eyes. It was a very amateurish thing to do. He swept his blade across her quickly, the tip of it slicing through the front of her coat. She reeled back, almost tripping. She finally got the coat off, and her sword out. Her attack was predictable, and Alessio bat it aside without effort. He reached out a hand, and negligently shoved her. She sprawled out on her back, nearly five feet away. She started to sit up, when his foot crashed into her collarbone, pinning her to the floor. She opened her mouth to call out, when she saw the shining point of his sword over her mouth.
“Call for help. Scream. Do so, and I shall cut the very tongue from your mouth. Answer my questions woman, and you shall go free.” He warned in a voice that brooked no disagreement. She nodded slowly, not taking her eyes from the sword point. Alessio leaned down, and she shifted in the pain that the extra weight on her caused. He reached into her pocket, and pulled out a necklace, one with a glowing white crystal on it. “The soul crystal. Where did you get it?”
“M-my boyfriend. Two years ago.” She answered. She had a pleasant sounding voice. Alessio nodded, and took his foot away. She blinked, and sat up. He tossed the crystal back to her.
“And how long has he walked this path?” She looked confused.
“What?” Alessio blew out a long suffering sigh.

“How old is he really?” He asked, sounding irritated.
“Over a thousand.” She answered. She was gaining confidence now, secure in the knowledge she had a powerful patron to protect her. Alessio nodded again. Her boyfriend might prove a more interesting opponent. He allowed himself to examine the woman more closely. Contrary to how most women in that day dressed, she was fairly conservative in her attire, keeping most of herself covered. Her face was well balanced, smooth skin showing one who clearly paid attention to her appearance. Piercing green eyes glared out at him. She was a stunning beauty, very rarely seen, even to one like him. It was little wonder that an Eternal had taken to her. Alessio sheathed his sword.
“You may go.” He turned away, and lifted his coat. He crouched, and leapt again, taking him back to the roof. He stepped away from the edge, out of sight, and then ran. His leap to the next building was easily made, and he moved to be able to see her better. His eyes picked out as she fumbled through her coat, pulling out a cellular phone. She had to try dialling three times before she managed to get the number done right, since her hands still shook with the after effects of her meeting.

She fled through the maze of alleys, Alessio pacing her without effort from the rooftops. His pace was almost lazy as he negligently leapt from roof to roof, never letting her get out of sight. He marvelled at how few people ever looked up to catch a glimpse of his movement. He stopped on a roof, seeing her continue to flee towards a warehouse, and he crouched, seeing that there was no roof within easy reach. She reached a door, and fumbled with the lock on it for a few minutes, clearly still shaking with the after effects of her encounter, but finally pulled open the door, and went in. Alessio mentally counted off the time, and looked over at the horizon. There was a very faint glow there, one that stated he was running out of time.

Alessio counted as more people kept coming, all filing into the warehouse. He let himself drop to the ground, crouching slightly to absorb the impact. He started at a trot as a man was entering the code to open the lock. He pulled the door open, and Alessio tossed a stone into the wall of the building. It rang off, causing the man to look to it. Alessio pushed himself, using all the strength in his legs to move, shooting forward at a blurring speed, and speeding past the man, and reaching the shadows, all before he realized someone was moving. He turned, and looked around, trying to see, but when nothing was readily apparent, he went inside, and closed the door. Alessio watched as he walked to a long table that had others sitting at it, including the woman, who still trembled slightly. Alessio smiled. It was all falling into place.

---

One man stood at the head of the table.
“I call this meeting to order. Be seated.” Everyone sat as he finished speaking. “Now then Cynthia, would you mind telling us what was so vitally important it required you to call us all out of bed at this ungodly hour?” His voice was tinged with a British accent, and he looked at the woman as he spoke. She stood.
“There's a new player in town. And I think he's looking for you Brock.” She said to him. The man blinked.
“What makes you think this?”
“He was asking about the crystal you gave me. But he...seemed satisfied when he found out you gave it to me. And no, I didn't tell him your name.” She glared around the table as a few mouths closed. The man, now identified as Brock, nodded.
“How strong was he? Did you get a read on him like I taught you?”
“I tried! I couldn't even get a flicker from him! But he was stronger than anyone I've seen. More than you Fredrick.” She said to a man who looked to be in his late sixties. “More than you Brock.” The people all seemed to be visibly disturbed by this. Alessio pushed his thoughts out, getting a read on them all.

Most were very young, not even beyond their fourth decade of life. The older man, Fredrick, was nearly eight hundred and thirty, from the aura he projected to Alessio's examinations. He smiled as he looked to Brock. He was just past eleven hundred, making him very likely the man he'd come here to find. A man tapped on the table top.
“Yeah, what's on your mind Andrew?” Brock asked him.
“Cynthia, you said you couldn't read him, right?” She nodded. Andrew shifted. “Then are we sure that this guy didn't follow her here?” Everyone fell silent, and stood, forming a ring around the table, and fumbling for weapons. Alessio only smiled.
“Key the lights Andrew.” Alessio frowned, and blinked as high power floodlights snapped on, throwing the warehouse into light like high noon. Sighing quietly, Alessio stood tall, and faced the assembled mob. They formed a line, all keeping a ready weapon in hand. Alessio took a few steps forward.

“So then, who are you, and what the bloody hell do you want?” Brock demanded. Alessio only smiled.
“My name is one spoken many years ago. I am Don Alessio Amadeus von Storintino.” He replied. Brock and Fredrick both felt their eyes shoot open involuntarily.
“No way! That guy is just a myth!” Alessio chuckled quietly, and let down the mental barrier that blocked their attempts to get a reading from him. The moment it fell, all of them took a step back, and shifted.
“Am I truly now?” No one dared speak. Alessio calmly walk past them, and took a seat at the table.
“Now then. Come and sit. I would hear the tale of you lives. And in exchange, I will answer a question to each of you about my own past. Would this be acceptable?” Brock nodded.
“Yeah. I think it would.” Alessio looked across the table at Cynthia.
“Why don't you start.” She faintly smiled.

Unsurprisingly, she had little in the way of interest for one like Alessio, as young as she was. Regardless, he saw something in her, a strength of will he'd not seen in a long time, something that made it clear that she would be a powerful figure in time. Alessio smiled at the thought that in a thousand years she might get another visit from him. Brock spoke next, telling his tale, of how he watched and lived the rise of the British empire, and how it had pained him when it at last fell. The tales themselves were of little real interest, but Alessio could appreciate the perspective of it all. Fredrick was next, but his story was clipped, and short, as though he was a man who kept his past very close, and even what little he was revealing was a great deal more than he had previously. Alessio took it all in, and smiled faintly. The table circled, each telling the tale, and Alessio sparing a glance around the warehouse, planning his next few moves. The skylight over them was helpful as it showed that dawn was getting far too close. He heard the last person stop speaking, and looked to see all eyes on him.
“I think it's your turn now.” Brock said simply. Alessio nodded.
“Then ask your question, and hear the answers.” He replied.

Each one had a question about the period of history they'd all so dearly wished to see, but been unable to. Alessio answered them all completely, telling them not only of the time, but the people he'd met in that time, the state of the world itself, and how he'd moved through it. When he was done, every face had a smile, and every eye was alight with the wonder of it. Alessio spared a look at the skylight again, seeing the time. He looked across the table at Brock.
“There is something I must do now. I do apologise for spoiling the mood.” He said, bowing his head. Brock frowned, and barely had time to blink as Alessio exploded over the table at him.

The others all scrambled to draw a weapon, to get to him, but Alessio grabbed Brock by the collar, and heaved him at the skylight. The man flew, smashing through the heavy glass, and landing on the roof. Alessio crouched low, and leapt after him, a split second ahead of Andrew slamming an axe into the table. He landed lightly, and turned, his coat falling off, and a sword and dagger coming to hand easily. He had expected Brock to likewise draw out a sword, but he drew a handgun instead. Alessio didn't bother to hide his distaste. Brock fired a round at him, smiling triumphantly. There came a loud ringing as the bullet rang off of the blade of the sword, and Brock lost his smile instantly. Pulling the trigger frantically, Brock opened fire. Alessio walked towards him calmly, sword in motion.

“I have to get up there!” Cynthia nearly screamed. Most of the others ran for the door, heading for ladders outside to gain the roof. Fredrick had a more direct option, grabbing Cynthia around the waist, and leaping for the skylight. He landed, dropping her onto the roof, just in time to see Alessio had been waiting. His booted foot connected hard with Fredrick's jaw, breaking the bone firmly, and sending him back down the skylight. He landed hard on the edge of the table, clearly wounding himself badly. Cynthia had her sword half drawn when Alessio slammed a palm into her breastbone, sending her skidding along the roof. He turned to see Brock slamming a fresh magazine into his gun, and opening fire again. Sword spinning in a silver blur, Alessio advanced, making it close to ten feet from him, when the gun started clicking for lack of ammunition. Alessio surged forward, his body blurring from the speed of it, sword leading. Brock dropped his gun, and drew out his sword with credible speed, managing to parry. He swept the blades out of play, and tried to riposte, but Alessio swept his own sword up far faster than Brock had thought possible, parrying. Alessio drove his knife into Brock's wrist, stabbing cleanly through. Brock cried out, and Alessio kicked out, sending him sprawling, blood gouting from the wound. Brock lost his grip on the blade, as his hand refused to answer his commands, most of the tendons damaged. Hearing the sound of feet on the roof, Alessio spun around, arm shooting out. Cynthia tried to stop, but Alessio got his arm around her, and continued his spin. He used that motion to send her sprawling across the roof, far enough away she'd be unable to interfere further. He moved in on Brock.

Brock was on his feet, his sword in his left hand, but couldn't move fast enough to parry the next blow. The blade slammed into his shoulder, and emerged a full foot out his back. Pressing down, Alessio forced Brock to his knees.
“Don't kill him! Please!” Cynthia screamed. Alessio turned to her, but kept a hand on his blade.
“And why not?” He asked, contempt in his voice.
“I love him! He made me an Eternal!” She was nearly begging. Alessio laughed.
“If you were meant to be one of us, you would have found the way eventually. This man may have simply sped up the process.” Alessio caught sight of Brock inching his hand towards his fallen gun, and twisted the blade. Brock froze in pain, gritting his teeth. Alessio pulled the blade free, and swung a backhanded blow that struck Brock's head cleanly off his neck. Cynthia screamed in denial, watching her lover die. Alessio set a crystal against the stump of neck, and the crystal started to glow white. The body fell to the roof, and Alessio crossed to the sobbing form of Cynthia.

“I am sorry for the pain I have caused you this night. But you will live for many more centuries, and this will become no more than a tiny moment amongst so many others. Eternity marches on dear child.” He said to her, actual compassion in his tone. She looked up to see him, but he was already gone, having left the roof, and sped across the open ground to the buildings of the city proper. The sun broke over the horizon, a beautiful sight that seemed to be mocking Cynthia in her sorrow. Alessio watched from a distance, seeing the rest of the group finally gaining the roof, and seeing the headless corpse of their leader and friend. A few of the women amongst them went to try and comfort Cynthia, while a few others simply sank to their knees in disbelief. Alessio turned, and left them to their grief.

Alessio stood on the balcony of his penthouse, nearly a week later, watching the city begin to light up as the sun went down. Thoughts of the fight still played out through his mind. By all rights, he felt he should have killed Cynthia, but something had stayed his hand. And now he had left her, deprived of her lover, and confused about the world once more. A small feeling of remorse was smouldering in his heart. He hadn't truly felt sorry for someone that had involved themselves in a fight with him in a very long time. A voice spoke from behind him.
“Feeling sorry for yourself? Or just for what you did?” Cynthia said bitterly.
“Cynthia. I am surprised you could make up to this place. Let alone try and demand answers from me in my own home. But then, death doesn't scare you over-much at this time, does it?” He replied.
“No. It doesn't.” She was silent a moment, as though waiting for him to face her. After that time, she realized he wasn't going to, and likely not because of any feelings of guilt. She doubted he thought her worth any worry. “I want to know. Why do you hunt and kill other eternals?” Alessio sighed gently.
“Every eternal killed saves countless human lives, lives that would be snuffed out in the name of living forever. And avenges even more. Brock was a senseless butcher. He had the energy on him to live another thousand years, but he killed on. For the joy of it.”
“That's-”
“I do not lie Cynthia. Not when unnecessary. And it is clear you need truth now.” She moved to enter the edge of his vision.

“Are you proud of the fact you killed him?” She asked. Alessio considered the answer.
“No more than an officer of the law would when stopping a murderer. And that is what I did.” He replied. Cynthia swallowed.
“And where do you go from here?”
“I am unsure. I have enough soul now to last just over a century. Perhaps I shall take a rest, move through the world with no purpose but to exist. See what else has this land has become.” Cynthia nodded.
“Could I...maybe come with you?” Alessio looked at her, and blinked.
“I confess, I did not expect such a request. Why would you wish to do this?”
“I...I want to...I want to live like you do. I want to see things like you do. And if you are a defender of the people like you say...then I want to do that too.”
“And why is that?”
“It's a purpose to live that makes sense. A reason to live forever. Because it will take forever to do.”
“If you do this, you will be expected to learn, and to train until you can best an eternal ten times your age, to match wits and wills with the greatest of philosophers of this age, and to never, ever let your guard on humanity down. And learn all of this from a man who is not blessed with much compassion. Can you agree to this?” She nodded, a fierce light in her eyes. Alessio extended a hand, and she shook it firmly. “Then here and now, let your journey begin child.”

 

[darkangel76]

I'm glad you posted this. : )

Also, it's a very interesting concept--even more so because it came from a 15-yr old-you. If you get my meaning. So, this is a pretty hefty idea when you consider that especially. At least, in my opinion. That said, I thought the read was pretty action packed and I think it has potential. I enjoyed it and was entertained and would definitely keep reading to see where these characters go. The one thing that I found pretty nifty was that I thought Alessio was going to be more villainous and then he turned out not to be. So, that was pretty cool. Anyway, I liked it and am glad you shared this piece of your childhood.

 

[Alvis Alendran]

This is the next installment, though it was written later to put a bit more characterization and background into the characters. So...here you go!

The Eternity Chronicles
Letting Go
​

Alessio calmly set his sword onto the rack that held such weapons. It was not the first time he'd been appreciative of the space that the penthouse had lent him. It was useful to have a more solid base to live in, though it was considerably higher in profile than he preferred. Nonetheless, it allowed him room to properly train his disciple, Cynthia. She had only twelve years previous decided that she would follow Alessio, and learn from him what it was to have a cause worth living forever for. He faintly heard the ringing of a phone, and sighed in vexation. Such devices had their place in this world, but Alessio still did not enjoy having them within his home. He heard Cynthia answer, and left the room. He was interested in seeing what was happening.

He found Cynthia sitting in a chair in the living room, her head in her hands, the phone on the floor beside her. Alessio walked half the distance to her before speaking.
“Am I to assume that whatever it was that placed a call to you, the news it bore was not good hearing?” He asked. Cynthia looked up at him, eyes torn between sarcasm, anger and complete despair. Alessio frowned. The first two he was used to from her, but the last...it was most out of character for her. He took a few steps closer to her, and waited for her to answer.
“No...it was not good news.” She said acidly.
“Then what news was it you received?” Alessio was more gentle in his tone this time.
“It was my mother. She...told me that my dad is dying. He's in the hospital. They don't think he'll last the week.” Alessio nodded, and swept up the phone, his memory recalling the numbers he would need to press. Cynthia frowned. “What are you doing?”
“Where is he located? We will have you there within hours.” Cynthia stood, and followed after him.
“He's in Phoenix. Since when do you care about me outside of training?”
“This is family Cynthia. It is different.” Alessio dialled, and began his call.

Alessio fidgeted. He would face down a dozen armed men, bearing nothing but his own hands without quailing, but the moment he stepped into a plane...well, his opinion was much different. He and Cynthia sat on opposite sides of the first class section, Alessio giving her some privacy, and ensuring she didn't see just how uncomfortable he was on board. The flight would be short, barely more than an hour, but that was an hour in which his fate rested in the hands of others, and there was nothing he could do about it. He would be glad when this was over.

Cynthia stood outside the hospital, looking up at the monolithic structure.
“Cynthia, a moment. How many of your family are within?” He asked. She frowned.
“Maybe a dozen right now. Why?” She asked. Alessio nodded.
“I can purchase you time with your father, but keeping a dozen people in one place will be the limit of my abilities.”
“Why would you need to keep them in one place anyway?”
“How do you explain the fact that in a dozen years, you have not aged?” Cynthia went silent.

“What about my father?” She asked.
“He lies on his deathbed. Anything he may say now can be set aside as the ramblings of a dying man. Calm yourself, I mean no offence to your father, I merely speak at the most logical explanation.” Alessio added the last as he saw Cynthia taking a deep breath to launch into a tirade. She contained herself, but only just.
“So you're telling me that this is the only time I'll have to see my father again?”
“You are given one last chance to speak with him. Many do not get even that. Take that which you can from this life Cynthia, for I promise you, it will take what it can from you.” She frowned at his last statement, but Alessio waved her to follow, and led her into the building.

Alessio shrugged into the white doctors coat, and lifted the clipboard that held information about Cynthia's father on it. He could speak knowingly about what the board contained, and so long as he was asked to actually perform any procedures, he should be able to pass as a doctor. He nodded to Cynthia as he passed her in the hall, and she made for the room. Alessio made for the waiting room that the rest of her family waited in.

Cynthia quietly pushed the door open, and stepped in. She could hear the steady beeping of the heart monitors, smell the drugs that her father was on as they tried to make him comfortable in the last days of his life. She gently parted the curtains that surrounded his bed, and looked at what lay beyond. Her father was hardly recognizable. She had always remembered him as a powerful, strong man, but the years had not been kind to him. His form was wasted from inactivity, and his hair had changed from a salt and pepper black to a wispy white that looked as though it would fall at the slightest touch. She swallowed, bracing herself for the speech to come. She saw his eyes open, and managed a smile. His eyes were unchanged, a calm, clear grey that looked as though they had been cut from granite.

“Cyn? That you?” He asked, his voice a bit laboured.
“Yeah dad. I'm here.” She answered, stepping to his bedside. She shakily reached out, and took his hand. He gripped it as best he could.
“Been a long time there girl.” Cynthia hung her head, tears in her eyes.
“I know dad. I'm sorry. I've been caught up in so much...” She trailed off, not even wanting to finish the statement. No matter how she might make excuses, the simple fact was she had not seen her father in over a dozen years.
“Doin' important things? Making a difference out there?” He asked her. She nodded at his words.
“I think so dad.”
“S'okay then. Had things you needed to do Cyn. I understand.” He squeezed her hand. “Just glad I got to see you.” Cynthia slid her hand free, and fled the room.

Alessio saw the flash of Cynthia fleeing the room, and nodded to the people before him.
“Excuse me.” He said quickly, and set off after Cynthia. He ignored the protestations from those behind him.

“Cynthia?” Alessio asked, finding her sitting on the floor, her knees pulled up to her face. When she didn't move, Alessio crouched beside her. “I can offer you nothing if you will not speak to me.” She lifted her face, tears staining her face.
“I can't. I just...can't.” She whispered. Alessio nodded slowly.
“You cannot face what has happened.”
“No. My dad...he was always...so strong. Always there for us all. And now he's...oh gods...” She sucked a deep breath to try to avoid sobbing. To her great surprise, Alessio pulled her close, and held her to his shoulder. She let herself go a moment, sobbing into him while he held her steady. He let her go a moment later.
“You must face this Cynthia. Not for yourself. For him. I could lecture you on how this is perhaps the most difficult test of character that you would face. But the truth is that right now, your father needs you. Needs you to show the same strength that he showed for you in your youth. The circle is closing Cynthia, and you must be the one to finish it.” She looked up a him, seeing a flicker of emotion in his eyes, something she'd not seen in the two decades she'd been training under him.
“How do I do that?”
“Tell him. Tell him the truth of what you are, of what you've done, of what you hope to become. In the end of all things for him, he deserves to face this end knowing what his daughter spends her time doing. I will...buy you the time you require. Go.” She shakily stood.

“What if I can't do this? What if...I'm not strong enough?” She asked, almost pleading.
“Then fake that you possess the strength. Cynthia, this is a turning point in your Eternity. This will never happen to you again. You must face this...and decide.” Alessio told her.
“Decide what?”
“Whether...what you must endure here is worth it. Whether living forever is worth what you will suffer.”
“Does it...get easier?”
“Yes. In time. But not for the reasons you would hope.”
“Then how?”
“You grow distant. Distance is armour for the heart Cynthia. And you learn, in time, to armour your heart. If you do not, you will lose your mind in it's entirety. Now go. We both have tasks to perform.”

Cynthia shoved the door open slightly, re-entering the room. Her father turned weakly to see her.
“You came back.” He said faintly.
“Had to Dad. Just needed a drink.” She lied as calmly as she could. She could tears building on her face, but willed herself not to cry. She sat beside him. “I have to tell you some things Dad. They're wild things. Crazy sounding. But they're all true. And you need to know what I've been doing all these years.” Her father nodded calmly.
“Go for it girl. I always trust you.” He said, forcing a smile on his face. It was one of the first things he'd done that actually reminded Cynthia of her father.

“He's dying, why can't we see him right now?” A woman demanded of Alessio. He mentally sighed. Keeping them running in conversational circles did buy time, but it was irritating to be doing, and he knew that it's effectiveness was rapidly coming to an end. He looked from face to face, reading what he could from their expressions. Grief, fear, anguish. It was all things he'd seen so many times before, emotions that he'd inflicted on people before. But these people were connected to Cynthia, people that cared for her still.
“You know, I don't think I've ever seen you here before. Are you even one of his doctors?” She challenged. He made a decision then, one that he was sure he was going to regret later, but perhaps he owed it to Cynthia to do this.
“No. I am not. I am the physician that looks after the more unique case of his daughter, Cynthia.” He said calmly. Dead silence filled the room. This was going to be interesting.

“Sounds like your boyfriend was trouble there Cyn.” Her father said, still smiling.
“Yeah. Turns out he was Dad. Probably better ways to find out about it though.” She said, managing a smile of her own.
“And you've been working with the guy who killed him?”
“He's...been teaching me to be like him. Protect people from guys like Brock.” Her father nodded. “Alessio helped me learn to do what has to be done. It's not...always easy. But I think it's right.”
“Sounds like this guy you're learning from is a first class asshole. But with a good heart.” Cynthia's smile widened a little.
“That's about right Dad. So...that's why I've been gone. It...wasn't right. But it's the reason.”
“You were out there, trying to make a difference. Fighting the good fight. I'm proud of you Cyn.” She squeezed her father's hand.
“Thanks Dad.” They both turned to look as the door swung open.

“So she's...not aged?” The woman that Alessio assumed was Cynthia's mother asked.
“Not outwardly, no. We found a genetic condition in her that seems to be keeping all outward signs of age off of her. But she is still going to fade in time. She's been...trying to come to terms with everything that the condition brings, and has been under observation for some time. She heard about what was happening, and came as quickly as she could.” Alessio explained.
“So...she's in there? Right now?”
“Yes. As her physician, I was unsure whether it would be...advisable to bombard her with so much all at once from all of her family, but I have come to the conclusion that it would be far worse to try and keep her away. So if you'll accompany me, I'll take you to her.” Alessio led them through the halls, and pushed the door to her fathers room open. “I will wait here.”

Leaning against the wall, Alessio could hear faint crying, and equally faint laughter from the room. He looked away. He didn't belong here. This was a place of mortal life, of hope, love, and joy. Things he had set aside a long time ago. He pushed gently off of the wall, and head down the hall, shrugging out of the white doctor's coat he'd appropriated. He dropped it on a gurney, and head for the exit.

Cynthia and her family clustered around her father. He was still smiling, and Cynthia still gripped his hand.
“Glad to see all of you here.” He said softly.
“Wouldn't have missed it for the world Dad.” Cynthia managed. Her eyes flicked to the heart monitor, and she saw the beats getting more erratic.
“Tired now. Might get a little sleep.” Cynthia nodded.
“Might...not be a bad idea Dad.”
“Tell that guy to keep looking after you. And look after yourself too Cyn.” He said with a faint stern edge to his voice.
“Will do Dad.” She replied. He leaned back and closed his eyes. She watched as the monitor got more and more erratic until it finally went flat, and he slipped away.

Cynthia paced the along the pavement slowly. She looked up at the tall building that Alessio had gotten another penthouse apartment in. She pushed her way inside the building, heading for the elevator, trying to piece out what it was she would say to him when she saw him again. She'd been surprised that he'd not been there to escort her out, and even more surprised that he'd concocted a flimsy cover story for her to be able to see the rest of her family. She stepped out of the elevator onto the top floor, and walked towards the door that led to the penthouse. She unlocked the door, and pushed it open. She saw a small box in the centre of the floor, and Alessio setting a few things into it. She frowned.
“That....looks like my stuff.” She ventured.
“That is likely, since it is.” Alessio confirmed.
“So...do I get an explanation for what you're doing?”
“You do. I am finalizing the last of the required evidence of your cover story so that you can return to your family.” He explained. “And packing your belongings so that you may return to them.” Cynthia stood in stunned silence for a moment.

“So you're banishing me back to my family?” She asked.
“Yes. Cynthia, you have a family that loves and cares for you. And...you do perhaps deserve to spend your life amongst them.” Alessio explained.
“But don't I get a choice?”
“Of course. No one, not even I, can force you to take a path. But I can advise you on one.”
“And you think I should leave.”
“Yes I do. They...they will not be around forever Cynthia. But I will.”
“You sound pretty sure of that.”
“Cynthia, I was there when mankind learned the value of scribing symbols onto the walls of caves, beginning the road to make writing. I was there when man showed it's first sign of nobility. I was there when they launched into their first true war of nations. And I will be there when they finally succeed in destroying themselves, bombing themselves back into barbarism. And then I will be there to watch it all over again.” Cynthia was quiet as he spoke. She had known all of this before, the logic of it was simple. At his age, of course he had. But to hear it from his own mouth...it put it into a different perspective.

“But will you be there for me? If I came back? Would you be accepting of me coming back?” She asked.
“You would have to keep up your training. Keep yourself reasonably sharp. But yes. I would see no reason to deny your desire to return. Especially when it was my own idea for you to depart.” He said calmly.
“So you'll what? Stay on the move, taking on the world by yourself?”
“As it has been for a long time.” Cynthia was quiet, and looked at the floor.
“I can't...abandon my family.”
“I understand.” She looked up at him as he spoke.
“That's why I'm staying here Alessio.” He frowned.
“I believe I may not understand. Since staying seems be doing exactly what you profess you cannot do.”
“My dad? He heard me when I told him the truth Alessio. My dad was proud of what I'd chosen to do with my life. He hadn't been proud of what I'd been doing since I got out of high school. He called what I was doing...fighting the good fight. And I think that's what I need to keep doing. To keep his memory alive. To make sure that everything I've been doing for twelve years wasn't for nothing. I go back to them now, it was all crap. I should have been there all along. I stay here, I honour my father. I make it worth something.” Alessio nodded.
“Very well. Welcome home Cynthia.” She smiled at him.

Alessio sat comfortably in his chair, once again swirling a glass of scotch in his hand. Cynthia came out after unpacking all of her things. She sat in the chair across from him.
“Alessio, can I ask you a question?” She queried. He nodded.
“Yes. You should know that you may always speak freely with me.” He replied. She looked at the floor, gathering her thoughts. When she looked back up, she started.
“Why did you do all of this?”
“All of what?”
“Well, let's start with the last few days. You hate planes. Technology in general even. And yet you flew us both to a hospital. You posed as a doctor to give me time with my dad. You came up with a half-assed story to let me go back to my family. Why?” Alessio took a drink, and thought about what she'd said. It had been so long since he'd let any real emotions get far enough to affect his decision making process, the event called for a little self examination. He looked her in the eye as he spoke.

“I have been where you stood Cynthia. My mother died when I was a child. I'd seen four winters. That was how we measured our in that time. By the winters we'd seen. Not everyone survived the winter. It was as good as anything. She died giving birth to my brother, Makkarial. And on that day, a part of my father died. He was never the same man. I was...perhaps twenty winters old when he began to fade. He died of sickness, much as yours did. I watched him die before me, and stood beside him, trying to grant him everything he'd wished to see that I could grant. I helped my brother complete his Rite of Passage. I proposed a joining between myself, and the woman I'd been seeing for some time. Too soon. And then he was gone, leaving me and my brother alone. So that is why I did what I did Cynthia. You are not my first disciple. And I have watched others make the mistake of assumption. And they missed their chance to be with their father at the end of things. And I could not allow it to happen to you.” Alessio went quiet, looking at his glass now. Cynthia took her time before replying.
“So...why me? Why was it so important that I made it?”
“Because you're still human. Oh, you've walked the path of Eternity, yes, but you have never let go. And things like this will torture you until you do.”
“So I should let go?”
“I did not say that. I began to let go, long before I walked this path Cynthia. It allowed me to survive. And I let go completely nearly a thousand winters after my birth. The path of being human, being mortal, is long behind me. I cannot see it from where I stand. And I can never walk it again. That is the price of what I am. You alone must chose your path. To be mortal, forever. To live, love and weep with them. Or to become like me, and turn your back on it forever. You must chose Cynthia. And it must be your decision.” Alessio stood, and set his glass aside. “I believe you need some privacy. I will grant you that until morning. I hope you have come to a decision by then.”

Cynthia looked at what lay before her. It was symbolic really. On one hand was a picture of her, and her father. She was maybe ten, and was riding on her fathers shoulders, both of them grinning. The other was the first sword that Alessio had given her. It was a good blade, one that had been made specifically for her, and she had carried it well. Each item represented a path that was open to her. She lifted the picture, and smiled at the memory. She set it on her head board. The sword she set on the wall. She couldn't walk away from either path really. She'd been stuck in this half-life for more than a decade. And maybe that was where her place truly lay.

 

[darkangel76]

Interesting installment...definitely gives some insight into the characters adding depth and color and all that good stuff. I like getting to know the characters I'm reading about and investing my time in. So, this was a great read. I liked it. Thanks for sharing this bit and letting us see how these characters tick so to speak. And ooohhhh...that ending....just which path will she choose? If it were me....I think I know what my own decision would be. ; )