Dante stood in a library, his library. One he hid deep within the foundations of the city. Below the catacombs, where even death dared not tread. It held tomes of ancient histories, scrolls of eras long forgotten. He had collected as much as he possibly could have within the many centuries he had lived.
"But I can't find anything about who fell before Mana chose the elves. I've found plenty on the elves, some on lycanthropes and vampires. But none on who came before." Dante spoke into a perfectly spherical moon jade, inside was Elvidia, elegantly sipping on tea.
"To be honest, we don't know either. We only know that they fell to Mammon's whispers, a mad descent of greed and desire that corrupted them to ruin. It was said they were so beloved by Mana and machines, they built great cities, perfectly fused in harmony with both." Elvidia described all she knew with a thoughtful tone.
"It just doesn't make any sense. This is all recorded history dating a few thousand years, and yet there are only vague mentions and whispers of those who fell from mana's embrace." Dante threw a pristine book from four thousand years ago to the flawless white and gray marble floor.
"Perhaps it was erased for a reason. Seven has already defied cosmic order, and I'm starting to think it's best we don't seek what the cosmos refuses to acknowledge." Elvidia replied ominously.
"To deny the truth– is not something that I can live with. Just because the cosmos dare not divulge, does not mean I won't indulge." Dante dismissed and grabbed a scroll from the first records of humanity.
"Dante– hah. I see where Seven gets his streak of rebellion from." Elvidia sighed in resignation. Dante opened the scroll, its crisp new scratching as it unrolled was satisfying to the Doctor. Inside was almost what he wanted, yet it was full of arrogance and denial of fault.
"How are we to blame? We heard the voice of will and desire, it told us we were chosen. Yet mana told us we were wrong. At least that's what my grandmother said. That we humans held the greatest love from Mana, yet there is no proof. I don't believe in it, Mana. I've seen the elves, I've dissected them, learned how they tick. I trust in machines and science, not fantasy. I am a king, I listen only to that which is known. Humans can't hold Mana, therefore Mana does not exist. I leave this parchment as proof, as fact, that any human who claims Mana is real, shall be ridiculed for their faith in the unknown." Dante read the excerpt aloud, the disgust on his face could be felt.
"Must be written by the fourth king, Eustoles. King of Science and Machine. He was brutal, evilly curious, and maker of half-elves." Elvidia shuddered as if recalling a traumatic memory.
"In my pursuit to disprove or prove the claims, I forced children through a multitude of the females and through human females. To see whose genes were stron– I'm done reading this. This is absolutely heinous. How vulgar and despicable." Dante crumpled the parchment and tossed it into a doorway where similar parchments and torn books lay scattered, some were eons old, yet looked as if done mere seconds ago.
"Yet you seek knowledge just the same. This is why I told you, knowledge can raise just as much as it can raze." Elvidia compared the two science driven individuals separated by time.
"A seeker of knowledge does not fall into a single fold. One may fall into desire or temptation, another may fall into madness and desperation. But another falls into love and the forbidden pursuit of it. That's when knowledge becomes a necessity rather than a desperate desire. One fold is because you must have it, the other is because you wanted it." Dante described rather poetically, he looked at his vast library with eyes saying; 'I have more than I need, yet nothing I want.'.
"Ugh, both of you use philosophic poetry to defend your ideals. Why is Seven so much like you yet not remotely the same?" Elvidia groaned and complained in a tired and exasperated voice.
"Humans tend to seek comfort in logic when illogical events intrude upon their daily routines." Dante laughed at the elf being so undignified and out of character. Dante rubbed his eyes and sighed.
"I don't think I will find anything of use in this forsaken tomb of tomes. I should rest, perhaps tomorrow I will search for ruins I haven't explored yet." Dante stood up, grabbed the Moon Jade and went to turn the gas lamps off. Behind him something fell, the echoing slap startled Dante deeply.
"Relax Dante, a book probably lost balance and fell." Elvidia noticed the pale parlor and rapid breathing of the Doctor. Her words a wistful attempt at comforting him.
"You don't understand, Elvidia. Nothing in this library moves unless it is moved. Nothing is unbalanced, everything is packed tightly." Dante's trembling hands made Elvidia's view hazy. Dante took an unstable step towards the back wall, even from where he stood, a leather bound journal could be seen laying upon the cold marbled floor. Seeing what the book was, didn't loosen Dante's demeanor, but stiffened it instead with irritation.
"Oh for fuck sake. I thought it might be something divine, instead it's that nonsensical stew with Unicorn and Pegasus meat. Neither of which exists, might I add." Dante cursed as he grabbed the book and walked it over to his desk, tossing it on the surface with an angry slam.
The book opened, its words twined erratically, as if its contents were heretic writing being hidden from the world. Just as Dante was about to finally take his leave, the smell of stale graveyard soil filled the still air of the library. The gas lamps flickered, some flames grew in size. The steady even illumination turned into a scene of shadows fighting to devour the light.
"D–nte? Dan– wh— ha—ening?" The Moon Jade began to cut bore shutting down with a finality. Its usual smooth, glossy exterior now dull and calloused. The books cracked with age, open pages rustled with unseen wind. Then came the footsteps, long, slow, deliberate footfalls that echoed as if from another side of a long tunnel.
"What in the name of–?" Dante breathed the words as if it were escaping his lungs. He grabbed his eternally beating chest, where there could never be pain, his heart hurt. As if all life was fleeing from the presence that approached. Shadows gathered strongest near the doorway as the figure emerged into the forbidden room. Light flashed across the figures face. Melrod flinched slightly, his smoky eyes darkened, a dull ember glow hiding deeper inside.
"Fa– no. Dante, do you have any idea what you've done?" Melrod's voice was layered with aggression and accusations. Dante breathed a gasp followed by a deep sigh of unease.
"Melrod… my boy, how did you get down here? And what do you mean? No, no. More importantly, why do you look like that?" Dante began to question the boy.
"Don't change the subject, or deny it entirely. Seven is still alive, and I know he's being held at some elven society while he learns magic." Melrod spoke the truth, his voice saturated with saddened rage. Dante's eyes widened in shocked horror, this was information only known to him in Pioneer City.
"Melrod, no– you have to understand! This is for his protection– damn it! Where? No, how? How did you learn this?" Dante's voice fluctuated between shouting and low stunned questioning.
"That night after Seven didn't come home. You were talking to some gruff woman in a plague doctor's mask, you called her Elvidia,and elf. She told you about the boy with a Seven, you shouted his name! YOU KNEW HE LIVED! Yet told us all, even me, HIS BROTHER! That he died. No further information, no story, just 'He died.'. My mother drank herself to sleep because the tears wouldn't stop flowing. She suffers for your lie! Why?" Melrod's tears flowed down his dust soaked face, turning the tears a tainted brown, like a contaminated river.
"I– I'm sorry Melrod! But this is for the best! I miss him too, I grieve for him too. This lie is all that protects him. Your mother will understand in time. She will get over it eventually!" Dante yelled back, slamming his hand on the desk with a hollow bang.
"Get over it? Are you serious? Your only response to my mother slowly killing herself… is 'Get over it.'?" Melrod's voice cracked, his eyes lit brightly beneath their smoke. His face twisted slightly with a hovering smirk. Upper cheek muscles twitching irritably. Head half cocked to one side. The very look a predator gives their prey when they're ready to pounce.
"You're using contextomy, I didn't say it like that!" Dante sighed irritably.
"But you meant it like that. That's what matters Dante, you only care about the past and the future. Never the present, because who hurts now won't later. You protected one son from the world, but stole it from the other in the process." Melrod grabbed Dante's desk and threw it into a bookcase, so he could stare Dante in the eyes as he spoke his truth.
"Merlod, you're speaking from an emotional place, if you just give in to logic, you will understand this choice." Dante stepped back nervously while remaining strict in his tone.
"I used to look up to you, not because you were grand or inspirational. It was because you were smart enough to outsmart people from a world higher than mine. Seven tagged along wherever you went, eventually leading to a bond that could never break… But you broke it. You told a stupid lie that broke my world apart!" Melrod grabbed Dante by his collar, backed him into a corner and pinned him to it. The aggression Melrod showed was terrifying, like he was getting ready to dispatch his prey.
Dante grabbed a knife from his back pocket and stabbed it into Melrod's right arm. The sound was raw, the dull scratching of steel on bone was heard like a crescendo in the quiet library. Something that shouldn't be heard normally. Melrod looked at the wound, the knife sticking out of it, then at Dante whose face was one of terror.
"I see. I was of no concern to you, all this time… I will bring Seven back, no matter the cost. When I do, your world will end right before your eyes too." Melrod dropped Dante, the knife fell from his arm, landing on the marbled floor, now riddled with hairline fractures, with a clatter that echoed in the chamber. Dust rained from the ancient shelves, dirtying the preserved space with imperfection.
"Melrod! Oh fuck sake, I didn't mean for this!" Dante attempted to recover, but his immortal heart stuttered erratically. His limbs went weak, refusing to hold him up. Melrod's eyes flashed passively at the doctor, no sign of soft familiarity, just cold unbending disinterest. Melrod turned and walked purposefully through the way he came. His departure left the library cold, the lamps dimmed until it was like the last light in a dungeon going out. On the ground in front of Dante, was the leather bound book, its writing now bold and clear. No longer a recipe, but a hidden message from the era erased by time.