V’Vota

T’Prot would never grow accustomed to such accusing stares.

The residents of Rdrilveria within sight examined him without concealment. This did not happen often; in truth, it had never happened before—not like this, not before his very eyes. Never had he seen those expressions in every gaze fixed upon him: unblinking eyes, knitted brows, faces radiating silent accusation. His mere presence and meager words had never drawn such attention. The silence of those moments was as deep as the interior of a sarcophagus beneath the earth. Very slowly, it began to break beneath chants rising from the residents who filled the landscape.

The antiphons began like the faint drizzle before a storm. Gradually, the chanting spread to more mouths until dozens of voices—regardless of sex or age—joined in measured harmony. Some seemed to descend to ground level and swirl around T’Prot, singing from very near. Soft, high, and low voices filled every vacant space and corner of the district, every chamber of the bewildered T’Prot’s heart. The vast chorus climbed toward the citadel’s irregular towers, then descended again into its deepest sewer and dungeon.

Melodic voices sounded from every ziggurat, walkway, and temple in the district, carried by the breeze into neighboring zones. T’Prot listened open-mouthed. Though he did not understand what was happening, a trace of a smile escaped him. The melody was so beautiful that emotion nearly drew tears from his eyes, with the great stone blocks of the walls as witnesses. T’Prot had not smiled in a long time. This might have been the moment, but uncertainty gave him an excuse to resist. Sorrow pulled him downward, inescapable as a dark magnetic force that refused to release him.

The women sent their high melodic chants into the sky like warm, colored vapors soon to become clouds, then wet rainbows laden with fresh and joyful water. Before long, that water would fall as swirling rain over Rdrilveria. The men, meanwhile, drummed the ground with sandaled feet, striking hard as though crushing enormous ants. Their synchronized steps belonged to a multitude united as a single living organ. Soon, the rhythm of their stamping resembled the thunder of one vast drum.

Despite the sudden activity, T’Prot could easily tell that the stares had not released him. They sank deeper, stalking him without expression, without blinking. After several moments, the women held a single melodic tone and directed every note at the bewildered man. He understood nothing. Every resident around him sang and stamped with rhythm and passion. Their scrutiny made him ill at ease. Not one person looked away, not even for an instant. T’Prot was accustomed to many things. This was not one of them.

When he least expected it, a figure appeared before him—a woman of elegant, overwhelming presence. She emerged from the multitude and approached without haste, stopping only two paces away. The human drum of sandaled feet continued to thunder, and the rain of women’s voices continued to fall. T’Prot blinked once, rubbed his eyes slowly, and found the young woman still there, her beauty too perfect and unreal. Wonder froze him in disbelief. More than anything, she possessed an extraordinary resemblance to the girl who had inhabited so many of his dreams.

It was nearly impossible to believe she was not that very woman. T’Prot felt in his heart everything he had felt for her in his dreams. He could not explain it even to himself, yet some enigmatic and powerful attraction drew him to her. An invisible energy bound them—something beyond the tangible, visible, or perceptible, emanating from both bodies and entwining somewhere between them until it felt almost physical. As those sensations coursed through him, T’Prot studied her. She wore a red tunic with violet edging and stitching, cut with a rectangular neckline.

The fabric was very fine. She stood barefoot upon the stone paving of Rdrilveria’s walkways. He regarded her warmly, without need of words, yearning to tell her how deeply he loved and desired her. At least to him, the feeling seemed mutual. Her gaze was tender and sweet, yet lustful. Her dark hair fell to her waist, so dark that Küny’s own reflection drowned within every strand. Her eyes were unfathomable abysses. Full lips formed a small mouth. Such warmth and inescapable tension shook T’Prot to his foundations.

Before her, everything he knew vanished from his mind. He became a stranger to himself and could not deny the unknown path opening before him. Love reached him like a tsunami of repressed sensation. Through him, it entered a district where no one had ever known it. Contrary to what M’Krach had said, T’Prot felt that love could indeed touch the hearts and souls of the D’agam’anat inhabiting the magnificent citadel. Every curse had been broken. He saw it clearly in the woman’s tender, timid smile. From time to time, he glanced around, never losing sight of the hundreds—perhaps thousands—of chanting residents.

They continued to stare openly. They filled the entire visible promenade and every window, with more neighbors joining as the chants advanced. T’Prot gathered his courage, breathed deeply, renewed the air in his lungs, and dared speak to the woman.

“V’Vota?” T’Prot managed to stammer. His voice seemed to make her nervous. She nodded several times, embarrassed.

“Hee, hee. Yes... How do you know my name?” V’Vota asked, removing the hand she had placed over her lips to laugh with a lady’s delicate decorum.

“It is strange. You will think me mad, but... I dreamed of you. In the dream, I knew your name. You looked exactly as you do now. You even wore the same clothes,” he answered thoughtfully.

“I have seen your aura. I can see it at this very moment,” she said, amiably changing the subject.

“Have you?” He was fascinated, his curiosity sincere.

“Yes,” V’Vota affirmed with evident pride in her gift.

“Do you see anything special in my aura? If you are willing to say, of course.” He stepped forward, leaving only a single pace between them.

“I am willing. And yes, I see something special. You are a very good and generous man, one inclined to fall in love.” Her pale cheeks flushed at once.

“That is partly true. As for the last... I cannot fall in love here. Love is not proper in D’agam’anat culture. But in everything else, you are correct,” he confessed. V’Vota’s voice was music to his ears.

“Yes, I know. And you? Can you see my aura?” She looked eager.

“Well... much as I regret it, I possess no such gift. If only I did.” He did not lie. He would have loved to read those qualities within her.

“What a pity,” she exclaimed, almost sadly.

V’Vota intertwined her fingers before her bare navel and lowered her gaze to the paving stones.

“But... I can feel your energy,” he said eagerly, wanting by any means to lift the young woman’s spirits. He saw that she had grown sad. His words succeeded.

“Truly?” she asked, doubtful at first and excited an instant later.

“Yes.” Now he was the one filled with pride.

“What do you feel in my energy?” V’Vota asked with extreme anticipation, a special light shining in her dark eyes.

“I feel that you love me,” T’Prot ventured, making her pale cheeks flush once more.

“Hee, hee... well... it is true.” V’Vota laughed behind one hand, preserving her customary ladylike decorum.

“From which part of the district do you come?” he asked, changing the subject almost abruptly. She was a little startled, but answered.

“It does not matter...” V’Vota cut him off lightly, almost losing her fresh smile.

“Why have I never seen you before? We all know one another, despite there being hundreds of thousands of residents.” The pointed question made her discomfort visible.

“For precisely what you said before, T’Prot: because I love you. We D’agam’anat cannot love, remember? Or perhaps we must not...” The young woman looked around discreetly, clearly frightened.

He looked behind her. The crowd had fallen into a conspicuous and complete silence, which could not be good. Hundreds listened to their conversation with piercing attention, petrified as though they did not breathe, never blinking or looking away. V’Vota’s smile had almost vanished.

“No law forbids feeling—not love, nor any other emotion,” T’Prot declared with fervent conviction.

She frowned. Concern displaced her charm; this was no longer amusing. V’Vota wanted pleasure without worry, not a descent into bewildering questions that had neither answers nor solutions.

“I know, T’Prot. No law of Rdrilveria prevents it, but we have our principles.” She hoped the argument would make him abandon the matter and return to merriment.

“You mean...” he reflected aloud. “Kriiba’s principles: suffer not, forgive not, love not. No one forces us to obey them, V’Vota. Rdrilveria is free of compulsory worship. We may choose whatever religion pleases us.”

“We are D’agam’anat, T’Prot. We do not choose religions like garments before leaving home. We are devotion itself. We honor the faith that gave us life. We are Kriiba.”

“V’Vota, I never believed myself capable of feeling anything so intense for another person—not what I feel for you now.” His eyes shone, and so did hers.

A full smile returned to the woman’s face. Her beloved, though unknown, T’Prot had become entertaining again, almost as before. That was how she liked him. That was how she wanted him to be for her.

“The same has happened to me. Merely seeing you changed everything,” she said joyfully, intertwining her fingers before her breasts. “But T’Prot... we are different.” Her smile died and her expression changed with brutal speed. To him, it was as though night had suddenly fallen.

“We are not different. Do not say that,” he insisted.

“We are. Do not deceive yourself,” V’Vota reaffirmed. Not a trace of her earlier smile remained.

“That is not true, my dear V’Vota. Why would you say such a thing?” T’Prot pressed, certain that some detail had been kept from him.

“You know that I... well... am a faithful devotee of Kriiba. I am not merely another resident of Rdrilveria.” As she spoke, she extended her arms and turned in place. “You are different, T’Prot. You are... more open, perhaps chosen for something greater that we do not yet understand. That makes us very different.” She sounded both serious and convinced.

“What are you saying? Chosen by whom? By Kriiba? How could I be chosen by the master of the underworld when my love for you clearly defies his principles? Why do you believe that? You are not just another woman. If you were...” T’Prot pointed contemptuously toward the onlookers. “...you could not feel what you feel for me, nor radiate the energy I sense whenever you see me.” His words sounded credible, but mere assertion was not enough for V’Vota.

“I am like any D’agam’anat woman, T’Prot. There is nothing special about me. Perhaps... I am merely confused and believe I feel something I do not understand. Perhaps you also imagine an energy coming from my spirit because you saw me in your dream as your ideal woman. That is what dreams are for, T’Prot: to make real what waking life denies us. The dream confused you. Until now, it has made your own eyes deceive you. I am like anyone else.”

“That is not so, and you know it. To me, you are not like anyone else.”

“Nothing is what it seems when Vakroy, seeking to obstruct the path Kriiba taught us, lays his mud-stained, delicate hands upon your soul. Surely you see in me only what he wishes you to see and feel only what he wishes you to feel.” V’Vota’s speech, cold as polar ice, drove like a blade into T’Prot’s already saddened heart.

“Then what is love, V’Vota, if not everything you have just described?” T’Prot sounded resigned and angry. A knot in his throat made swallowing difficult. “Must we cast our feelings aside? Are you certain? Must we pretend to feel nothing?” His anguish deepened. He was no longer entertaining to her.

“T’Prot... you must cure your aura of this need. You must tear Vakroy from your being and fuse with Kriiba’s essence in a single body,” she answered quickly.

“Fuse with him? Why? How would that even be done?” T’Prot restrained himself at the edge of tears.

“You must drink this,” she replied.

V’Vota raised her arms parallel to the ground and brought her hands together. Then she showed T’Prot what she held in her upturned palms, curved like bowls, and lifted them toward the sad, bewildered man’s lips.

“What is it?” he asked.

T’Prot lowered his eyes to whatever she carried between her hands. The liquid was turquoise, shifting toward sky blue or pale green depending upon the angle and the light. It appeared thick. The few drops escaping her cupped hands stretched like resin as they fell. Distrust darkened T’Prot’s face.

“Nothing you know. It is called Thermotrilitron, but it is almost the same as water, T’Prot—abundant source of all life and death in Zyllyön,” she answered simply, in a tone that seemed to ask what else it could possibly be.

“No... this thing you offer is supposed to fuse me with Kriiba?” he objected, stepping back.

She took two steps forward and stood directly before him again, closer than before.

“Of course, T’Prot. Pure life. The Thermotrilitron will unite you with him forever. There will be no differences between us. The cores of our souls will synchronize, and everything will become the absolute, eternal happiness Kriiba desires. From then on, there will be only amusement, joy, pleasure—everything you want, without limits and without the chains of feeling. Please, drink.” V’Vota explained with a smile, eager yet demanding. Despite her promise of eternal happiness, he was not entirely certain. But for her, he could do almost anything, and drinking did not seem a great sacrifice. “Do it for me.”

“Well... if this will grant us a union that lasts for eternity, then I will drink. I will do it for you,” he decided.

She seemed not to hear him, waiting ceremonially for him to drink from her hands. Her full little lips held a silent smile. T’Prot took her hands between his as though they truly were a bowl, lifted them to his mouth, and drank the thick liquid to the final drop. It was glacial, and its strange bioluminescence lit even his mouth from within as he swallowed. Despite having no flavor, contrary to everything he expected, it was undeniably delicious. When he finished, he released V’Vota’s hands. Still smiling, she retreated two paces and drew back her arms.

He wiped the luminous, sticky drops from his mouth with the back of one hand. The effects came quickly. At first, T’Prot felt an electrostatic detonation burst outward from his stomach and extend through the rest of his body. Pain raced into every molecule, every cell carried in his bloodstream. Then came a second detonation, more powerful than the first.

“What...? V’Vota, what have you... have you poisoned me?” T’Prot managed to ask through sudden suffering as alien as it was agonizing.

The devastation within his organs became the most violent expression of destruction. T’Prot crashed to the ground upon rain-soaked paving stones. At some unknowable moment, rain had begun to fall, though he noticed it only now. Waves of internal agony shook him in repeated spasms. His body convulsed from head to foot in a frenzy beyond control or endurance. Seizures seized his muscles, his skeleton, his flesh—his entire being.

Rigid as effigies molded from silt, the residents watched with stony faces. T’Prot’s skin burned from within during the torturous process, soon charring beneath a violent electrostatic fusion born from the accelerated natural reaction between his blood and the Thermotrilitron. Suddenly, the convulsions ceased. The spasms and frantic movements ended. T’Prot’s final breath evaporated. His lidless eyes remained open, his hands clenched into claws, his teeth exposed by a mouth without lips. His body began to disintegrate.

V’Vota stared in horror, mouth open and dark eyes flooded with tears. She turned completely away from T’Prot’s disintegrating corpse and tried to meet the eyes of every resident before her. They were all still watching.

“He drank! He drank, you bastards! Damn you, automatons! Now honor your part!” the enraged V’Vota screamed through desperate sobs.

She kept turning, shouting at all who surrounded the scene as heavy tears fell. Her words failed to provoke even the smallest response in the severe faces of the imperturbable residents.

She had lost all sweetness, but none of her love for T’Prot.