A) TIMEWEAVERS
Cephalos entered the yard in silence. At least a decade had passed since last he stepped onto it to perform his rituals, a habit he kept, if only to remember how far he had gone since his embrace, ages before. Overtaken by tall grass and silence, it was in ruins. Once, long ago, this had been the place of his ancestors and his sons. Time would take everything from him, though, the price of blood paid in full. Cephalos reached for the almost unseen altar in the center, the pyre unlit and the stone unclean. He was to begin his prayer when he saw the tall figure coming from the shadows.
“Cato” – the old corpse said to the other. “Finished arguing with your son-in-law, I presume?”
The other one, stiff severe face of a roman, bowed his head as to recognize the jest.
No smile came out of him, though.
“Here we are, old friend.”
“Here we are.”
“Would you allow me to help? We share the same blood, after all.”
“Indeed. Brother and offspring, you are, good Cato.” – between the two of them, no sentiment rose. Only a subtle form of trust enticed the elders as they silently rose prayers at the ruined altar.”
After moments of silence, they gazed each other.
“How deed it strike you, Cephalos? Knowing for the first time you had the power to twist your fate…. Knowing you would be forever fated to contemplate their inevitable ends while you yourself struggled against our own determinist reality?”
“I believe it was the very last moment of my life that allowed me an overwhelming sense of fear… As if engulfed by fire, I rested my expectations entirely in the possibility of unveiling time itself, as the Fates would have, I’m sure, even before the oldest of gods. Nonetheless….”
“Nonetheless it is still uncertain, your fatal resolution, is it not, old friend?”
“In a way, yes. You do know what they say about our gift, do you not, Cato?”
“They say many things, Cephalos.”
“Many, for sure. One calls my attention, though. Perhaps the closest one to our experiences. Suppose we had the chance to muster all the strength of the blood in one epiphany, a single moment of universal realization, to bring all other moments to their ruinous truths. Suppose that…”
“That someone could contemplate the end of all things…”
“The end of all things…”
“Therefore, your absence, your silence, for all these years.”
“Precisely.”
“In other words, you do believe there was a first one to fight against fate itself, attempting to control all circumstances throughout our history. Nevertheless, what good would come of it, should it’s reasons be solely it’s own?”
“He who faces fate and rescinds to the heart of his own secrets might as well become fate. Foreseeing everything by his own power, free at last to live forever, to remain as others fall.”
“Or enslaved by his own sense of responsibility, doomed to try and trick Fortune in order to leave his legacy.”
“Yes….”
Surprise took Cato, suddenly. Not a common vista.
“You….”
“A glimpse, my friend. Of another, worry not. And the resolution…. How painful.”
“Are you to sacrifice yourself, then?”
“No. I adopted a riskier, yet more pragmatic, way out of my predicament.”
“Which is…?”
“Bringing fate itself into tomes of knowledge for the victim to find. In a very straightforward manner. No mysteries. Until the day we meet. Until the day it is safe to meet.”
“Is he one of us?”
“Yes. And of old blood, as well.”
“Why is he so relevant?”
“He might be a means to an end. Maybe more. As far as my sight leads me… He might well be the resolution for our deepest fears and doubts.”
“To uncover the end?”
“To uncover the end. The end of all things.”
