The Lighthouse.
I've never set foot in the place, but somehow it looks even bigger from the inside. The entire thing is hollow, of course, and the walls are lined with hundreds of thousands of bookshelves, maybe even millions, all of it illuminated by giant blue-white crystals. I'm not sure anyone but Xikarius himself knows exactly how many books there are lining these shelves. A huge spiral staircase follows the perimeter downward from the expansive and elaborate landing I've entered onto.
Oh, they have stationery here already, free to be used as needed, and a bunch of tables, reference manuals, and catalogues around. I drop my bag on one of the marble tables and approach the far side of the landing. It's deathly quiet, so much so that I'm nervous to even breathe, and I keep my movements as quiet and slow as possible. Once I near the edge, I peer over it, down, down, down, down.
It's so far that I can barely see the bottom.
And only now do I realize that my planning ended at the vestibule. Assuming Xikarius the Elder checked his own schedule, he's going to be expecting 'Salyx' to ask him about volcanoes and such, not ancient history. I can't conceive of any way to turn the conversation from geology to Vander the Black.
"Volcanoes cause fires. Hey, you know who else used fire to–"
Something moves at the bottom of the Lighthouse.
I've read about Xikarius the Elder. I've seen sketches and artwork. I've heard conversations about who and what he is. Nothing could have prepared me for reality. Watching the colossal hydra's heads rise from below strikes a quiet fear into me, in a fashion that not even the Fell did. It's a combination of his sheer size and his eerie multitude. When Xikarius looms before me, it feels the same as it did when I was ambushed by the Fell, except that there are nine of him.
He's a serpentine draconid. Scales of ashen white and a deep black, patterned with the same banding stripes as a northern pine snake. His heads are rounded but pointed at the nose, and eighteen beady black eyes gape down at me from every direction as nine different black forked tongues dart out to taste the air.
He says and does nothing. Simply watching.
I guess I have to step up.
I faced down the Fell.
I can face down anything.
"Xikarius," I say, directing my attention to the head at the center. "Elder. I…"
My voice dies in my throat. Hells, he sees right through me. I can feel it in his wordless stare. I'm not fooling anybody but his attendants by being here, doing this. What the fuck am I thinking? I'm up against beings so ancient I can't begin to comprehend how much they've witnessed. No, no, I'm up against the Goddess. Goddess. She who sees all, knows all, and does all.
And here, I'm facing one of Her divine circle.
With a deep, shaky breath, I lower my tail and sigh. "I'm not Salyx. I stole her place in line to see you. My name is Crimson. I'm no scholar, or student, or researcher. I'm… pretty much nothing. Nobody. Just some rotblood Fable who flies faster than most. I–I have some questions to ask you, but volcanic deposition and gemstone formation are the… the last things on my mind. Mine are history questions. Things I don't… I don't understand. Things I believe you know well. Better than anyone. May I ask? Or am I… in trouble?"
Nothing. He doesn't speak. Or move.
I don't either. Should I run for it?
Shit, I'm going to end up in the Cages.
Just as I'm about to bail, he finally speaks. Not unlike Penelope, his voice is that of a librarian. All he says are two words. Just the two. It's a question for me.
"Query. Rotblood?"
I freeze up for a moment, but catch up with haste. "Y–Yes, Elder. I'm one-eighth dracoraptor."
"Observation. Your talons." The nine heads shift, drifting closer. "Definition. Rotblood. A pejorative and derogatory term used to describe a draconid with some fraction of non-draconid ancestry. Example one. A wyvern with dracoraptor blood. Example two. A hydra with giant serpent blood."
My jaw hits the floor and my mind stutters. "Wh–What? What? Elder?"
"Query. Do you believe us to be rotblooded as well?"
"No, no, no, that is–"
"Interjection. Do you understand the contradiction?"
"Um. Yes, Elder. I'm–I understand. But…"
"Query. Why do you refer to yourself as a rotblood?"
"It's mostly… Well, in a sense, it's almost ironic? Or perhaps self-deprecatory." I hesitate and frown. "Sort of. Mostly because… If I say it first, nobody else gets to. And it hurts less when I say it than when others do."
"Acceptable reasoning."
"Tha–Thank you? Oh, what's this?"
One of the heads deposits a book on a nearby pedestal and retreats as the middle one speaks. "Explanation. This tome is for your reference, Crimson. We believe you will find answers regarding the origin of the prejudice against us crossbloods within. Please, return it to our attendants when you are done."
"Oh. I'll… take very good care of it. I promise."
"Assertion. We are certain of it. Assertion. Our queries are satisfied."
"What? Sorry, we? Our? Are you separate individuals?"
"Answer. Correct and incorrect. Elaboration. We are Xikarius. We are one. That one is Xikarius."
"Oh. So, you're plural when referring to yourself, but singular when others are referring to you. All nine of you are speaking to me as one unified entity."
The hydra pauses. "Answer. Correct."
"I hear you. One more quick personal question? Why do you speak the way you do?"
"Explanation. We speak this way for clarity to assist students with structuring their notes. Elaboration. In this fashion, a query is answered distinctly, then further relevant information is provided in a way that separates itself as such. Exercise. Crimson, please ask us to tell you the color of the sky."
"Um." I shift my weight. "W–What color is the sky?"
"Answer. Blue. Elaboration. The Goddess decreed it to be thus. Exercise. Crimson, please ask us to tell why the Solaris is bright."
"Why is the Solaris bright?"
"Explanation. The Solaris is bright because the Goddess is within it. Elaboration. The Goddess is the source of all light in the universe. Exercise conclusion. Notice the difference in when we reply with answers versus explanations. Answers are simplistic. Explanations are expansive. Query. Do you understand?"
"Yes! That makes perfect sense now! Damn, that really does work! I should be taking notes!"
"Response. We have been logging every word of this conversation in duplicate, for both your records and ours. You will be given your copy after our conversation has concluded. Addendum. We do appreciate students taking their own notes."
After I collect the book and add it to my bag, I retrieve my actual notes and hurry back over to start doing exactly that. He gives me time to catch up.
"Query. What questions do you have to ask of us?"
Hells, I almost forgot what I came here for. This old snake is fucking fascinating. And yet I'm astounded that he's actually choosing to hear me out. I should probably find out why that is first.
"So, you're not calling the guards on me or anything? Putting me in the Cages and plucking out all my figurative tailfeathers?"
"Answer. No."
"Why not? I stole Salyx's spot."
"Explanation. The pursuit of knowledge is, at times, quite competitive. Addendum. As in many other regards, to the victor goes the spoils. In this case, to the swiftest."
"Right you are! I am the fastest wyvern alive. That's no boast either. So, um. How much time do I have?"
"Answer. As much as is required."
"Perfect! Fantastic! Let's see here…"
I flip through pages, and then realize I still don't have much of a plan. Shit, shit, shit. How do I do this? Somehow, I have to meander from Vander and the Incineration to the–Wait, hold on. That's easy, isn't it? There it is. It's right there in front of me. Forget The Luminous. I don't even have to specify what I'm looking for.
Lifting my head from my notes, I ask one question.
"When Vander the Black destroyed the Divine Archives, how were the records that were lost in the fire recuperated, recovered, and more importantly, verified?"
Xikarius hums a rumbling sound as the nine heads lean farther away and loom higher. "Clarifying query. Are you referring to the records which were completely or partially lost?"
"Um. Let's do partially first."
"Explanation one. The fragments, portions, and pieces of the records which did in fact survive were reassembled together. Elaboration one. In most cases, enough copies of the same document managed to survive the blaze. Though they were damaged individually, together they often formed the whole. Explanation two. In cases where some amount of information was truly lost and no other proximal or adjacent documentation existed to fill in the blanks, those portions were rewritten according to the Goddess's own recounting of the events. Elaboration two. As you will recall, the Goddess's memory is infinitesimal in its accuracy, and Her word is absolute, infallible, and irrefutable. Observation. Crimson, you have lost color in your face due to restricted blood flow. Query. Do you require a glass of water or a place to sit?"
"No… No… I'm… I'm okay…"
I feel sick. I feel shattered. I feel horrified. He said it. He just said it. Hells, I wrote it down in my notes! My palms are sweating. My ears are ringing. My chest is empty. My understanding of life, of myself, of my place here in this universe, of everything that I have ever believed, of everything I have ever known, and of everything that I have ever been told by anyone here in the Heavens, it all just cracked like broken glass, and every splinter that chips off reveals more and more of the world beyond the mirror.
The thing is…
There is nothing beyond the mirror.
Not black, not white, not an inverse.
Nothing.
Nothing.
There's nothing.
Except Umbra.
My hands shaking, I try to draw in my composure. My voice is trembling as well. "You… So, you… Elder, is your–is your recollection not… What if Her memories are… are different from what you remember?"
"Answer. The Goddess's word supersedes all other variables. Elaboration. In the event of an informational discrepancy between our knowledge and Hers, however confident we may be in our recollection, the reason can only be that we are mistaken."
"Shit," I hiss, tail thrashing as more and more splinters break off. "That's it then. That's it. You said… Absolute. Infallible. However confident you may be… So you're not the one who… Are you just following orders?"
"Clarifying query. What are you referring to, Crimson?"
"The–The–The records. The ones that were partially or wholly lost. You said… You said that no matter what, even if you yourself remember the events with total clarity… If the Goddess said something different happened, that's what you wrote. That's what you wrote. Whatever she said happened. Not what you know happened. Correct?"
"Rebuttal. Please, refer to our previous elaboration. If the information between our memory and the Goddess's conflicts–"
"No, no, you're not hearing me! Sorry to interrupt! But you're not–No, you're not even answering the question! Xikarius. Elder. If I drop my book, right here in front of you, but the Goddess tells you that I didn't, what would you notate in the logs you're keeping of our conversation?"
A momentary silence screams the truth at me.
"Answer. We would notate that you did not drop your book."
"Even if you saw it happen. Right now."
"Answer. Yes. Elaboration. Our observational perceptions are finite, limited, imperfect, and therefore potentially erroneous. Logically, it follows that we would defer to the entity that knows all. To do anything else would compromise the integrity of our records, which is entirely unacceptable."
"But what if She's wrong?"
"Answer. The Goddess cannot be wrong."
"Well, what if she's lying?"
"Answer. The Goddess does not lie. Elaboration. Deception, lies, and falsifications are the realm of the Great Deceiver, the Wretched Fallen. Therefore, they are outside the realm of possibilities in regards to the Goddess's words."
I don't even know what to fucking say. "And all the Scribes follow this same principle?"
"Answer. Yes."
"Xikarius, are you… Are you okay? I can't tell if you're a complicit accomplice or a brainwashed victim here. Do you actually, truly, without a shadow of a doubt, believe any of this that you're saying? Would you genuinely concede that the sky is in fact red, simply because the Goddess says so?"
The snakes loom closer. Colder. "Answer. Yes."
"That's illogical. That's wholly illogical. All evidence points to the contrary. Surely you're able to see that, aren't you? If your research proves a scientific fact, but that fact is denied based on… Based on what? Your faith? Belief? Delusion? Simple compliance? How does that change the actual evidence? It doesn't! It doesn't, Xikarius! If a conclusion denies the evidence that proves it, then that conclusion is, irrefutably, incorrect! Wrong! It's wrong!"
All nine heads are hanging over me like guillotine blades or twisted nooses. His voice is nothing but a frigid echoing whisper. "Rebuttal. It is natural to question faith. Counterpoint. Antithetical to what you claim, the logic is wholly sound. The Goddess is omniscient and infallible. There is no wrongness to her decree. Ever."
"Hells. You really do believe that."
"Response. We believe the truth. This is the truth."
"Then you're simply in denial. Granted, plenty of your writing is factual, but your records and chronicles are nothing more than distortion. Drakeshit. Drakeshit. The Goddess is using you, Xikarius. All nine of you. You're no scholar. You're hardly even a scribe! No, Xikarius, you are a sycophantic propagandist who inscribes only lies. And you're too blinded by devotion to see it. I feel sorry for you."
The Elder's heads drift closer and closer. "Response. Previously, you spoke from a place of question and curiosity, seeking deeper understanding of the faith. Now, with a vicious tongue of indiscriminate sacrilegious venom, you speak vitriolic blasphemy. This, Crimson, is a sin most grave. Reconsider your declarations and repent. We warn you. Further slander of our credibility or that of the Goddess will be punished severely. Up to and including exile from the Heavens."
"I've heard enough. I have nothing left to say to you." Gathering my belongings, I toss his damnable book back on the pedestal. "Enjoy living in a hollow delusion, old man. You won't see scale nor tail of me anymore, that's for certain."
"Conclusion. May you find peace with your troubles, Crimson. Your copy of the record."
When he sets the roll of parchment on the pedestal, I grab it up with force, look the center head in the eyes, and surge red electricity through my arm to my fist. My fierce and ferociously potent magic crackles and hums as the paper burns to ash in my clenched fist. Once I scatter the fluttering remains over the edge of the landing, I leave this senile zealot to gather dust in his library of lies.
My heart is cold and resentful. My mind is ablaze.
The Fell's words echo through my memory.
'Oh, how simple it would be to alter the record…'