Indeed, a hard choice to mold over. The losses, the gains, the risks, regrets, the near resolution, all interwoven in a complex, fragile web. At the center a trapped prey. If one thread got moved wrong, the hide and seek game will break apart.
Savannah left in that room, alone, chewing the outgrowth of her late choices. Her decisions. Her reasons to do so. Now, all seemed so selfish, so illogical… so naïve.
Her profile resembled a lifeless statue, rigid, expressionless. Out of overthinking, her mind slowly was melting.
Two alternatives, both will lead her to bitter regret.
The first, her little sister's death, a slow, silent death. If she allows the artificial personality named "Rokah" the time to evolve, to thrive. He will gradually eat her sister's sanity and consciousness.
An outcome Savannah could never be able to live with.
The second, her mother's definite clash with the regional council led by Marduk.
The clash, her uncle sacrificed loads to thin its flame. The clash that her mother's enemies are waiting for to display their claws.
The clash that will certainly happen if Savannah's involvement in the colubrine black dragon death floats above the already boiling water.
The smoke of culpability, the ash of remorse. The room was a furnace and Savannah's was getting cooked inside.
Shuffled steps, a heavy pace, in search of an escape. She left the entertainment house. The big city with the majestic monuments. Its narrow side streets, its wide populated roads. the soaring edifices, all of them couldn't contain Savannah felt regrets.
As she passed the gleeful faces, the loud laughs, the weight of her past decision touched the sky above. No one knew about her load, no one feels her tragedy.
The end of the street, the green trees, the passing carriages, the marvelous walls of the hanging gardens, all colorless, spiritless reflected in her pale gaze.
Ten years ago, or now, nothing had changed. Her existence to her family, to her clan, always has been a synonym to a curse, a calamity.
How many times she wished that she didn't exist.
Amid the sea of going and coming people, as if rejected by fate, she halted. Irreconcilable emotions painted her visage. A mix of indifference, despair, and madness.
Like a lost ghost, she laid her back to the immense black, blue glazed Marduk sculpture. The shadows stretched east, veiled her profile the same way her indifferent exterior concealed her interior turmoil.
On the ground, she gestured a circle, Lord Shiva's personal sigil clumsily traced on the soil.
"Here, Savannah, the black star, the void ambassador calls the mighty Lord Shiva in name of our oath of reciprocity."
" Um, how rare of you to use summoning…"
A clear reply echoed. It felt inside the maze of her mind. Clean and distant. Her head dragged up, the hollow gaze traveled the curves of the cold sculpture.
" I forget the last time you summoned me."
There, up the sculpture shoulder, a pair of black ears jerked in response. A small head rocked beneath the shaped folds of metals. A black cat looked down as it lowered its paws, sloping downwards. "You know my summoning oath won't provide you a fair exchange."
The black cat licked the inside of his paw. Overfilled, satiated.
However, curiosity was a dish hard to resist. And it goes well with his extra-large bowl of delight. "What do you want through this unfair exchange?"
A vague pale color. The darkness overcame the brightness in Savannah's eyes. The orange shade of the sunset thrown back on her visage, casting a halo of cruelty: "I have reached a decision."
That carefree countenance, that flowing overconfidence, all withdrew in favor of a dark sinister vehemence.
Only then, the gratified lick process halted. Shiva snapped, sobered, intensely fixated on Savannah. The passing silent seconds measured years: "Well," The cat canines appeared as if he was yawning, "That was quick." The tone of disappointment emerged sincerely, but also the steam of prying eagerness made his claws go in and out. The thrilling question. The awaited answer. What was Savannah's last choice?
***
The orange fired sky didn't roof, only Savannah's turbulence. South of the hanging gardens, not too close, yet not too far. Nayara's restless breathing vigorously kept inside her chest. The dark clothing hiding her body merged into the upcoming blackness of the night. Anxious, wandering in the narrow alleys, lost into a maze of shapely stones. As if afraid of getting undraped. Her smooth hand tightly fastened the fabric around her neck.
When she noticed an injured person stepping out one of the doors, her eyes wide open photographed the house. She darted toward it, desperate.
At the entrance, she got blocked by a man: "Sorry, Madam, but we have finished for the day, came back tomorrow."
"Is Clément still here?"
"No, the doctor has finished for the day, come back tomorrow."
A falling object sound reached from within the house. Nayara stole the opportunity and slid behind the man.
"Madam… Madam…" The cries of the angry man hunted her back.
Her stare rapidly searched the tiny room. A wooden desk, two beds, a cupboard, and scattered materials for medical use.
The moment the man's hand landed on her shoulder, his entire body failed to comply with his thoughts. The tiny budded lust inside him, the instant his eyes settled on Nayara, earlier, paved the road for her to enslave him.
"Where did he go?"
Controlled by her seductive spell, the man's answer was filled with unhealthy eagerness: "He will come back soon." His congested eyes protruded: "If you wish, you can wait for him here."
Cynical smirk topped her mouth: "No hurry," two steps, she approached the man: "Tell him, when he comes back, I am waiting for him, in the stone moon house, tonight. It's very important."
Her heels hovered gently on the floor. At the exit, he escorted her with pleading words: "Wait, my Lady, I will accompany you, walking alone, in the night in this neighborhood is dangerous."
As she looked down the narrow alley, the smug hue never left her face. She clearly enjoyed the greedy longing. It was a confirmation of her superior maneuver over the men. In light of the last bad events she had journeyed through, this was her own self-validation method. She had yet to lose her touch.
Lucky for Nayara, what would become of her fledgling feelings of security and self-affirmation when the man she sought was two floors above. Watching, noting every bit of the conversation, every morphing expression.
From the flat roof of the house, amid the folds of the night. In a corner where the moonlight missed its path, his head tilted, chasing the end of the alley. When the couple disappeared, he tore out the goggles from his face with a mild appreciation of their usefulness.
Hands locked behind his back, he mulled over Nayara's urgency, persistence to reach him. The purpose of her insistence, certainly, in quest of herself-benefit. However, the wonder submerged his thoughts. What brought her to this unpopular, remote part of the city?
Since she sought his person and no one else. There must be a bargain up her sleeves.
What could this unpleasant woman want from him?
Didn't she left in Savannah trails? When did she come back?
Regardless of how much he disfavored interacting with her, how much he distasted her methods, clashing paths together wasn't a matter of a personal choice. This woman was his only gateway to approach the Viceroy of Babel, Lord Irshusin II.
Luminous Palm trees vanquished a portion of the night, life burst into those parts of the city. The curfew hours got suppressed. All signs of the near celebration of the new Agricole year.
At the stone moon entertainment house, inside one of its most luxurious rooms, Nayara in breathtaking garments, gracefully organizing the various dishes on the low table. "As you may know, in the past few months, I left Babel for a quick trip to Innyana range in the north."
The size, the color, the content were all taken into account. Two other young girls in more modest attire helped her. "That's why you didn't hear from me."
A rapid side glance was thrown towards her guest, her aim to perceive if he was aware of her… quick trip or not.
Nothing could be deciphered on that stoic face.
"No one had guessed what I would face in such an erratic wilderness?"
One of the girl offered her a tea jug. The steam surged high as the cup got filled.
The thick yet shallow layer of tea steam disturbed by Naya voice waves: "How big can the world be?" Each word was meant to stimulate the curiosity of her guest. Delicate hands elegantly offered the cup. bashful eyes stole meaningful glimpses.
Looking deep into her guest eyes, tasting the water… With a close brush of fingers. She was disappointed, hopeless, getting a response from such kinds of individuals. Cold and heartless.
"I will share with you a secret." A final attempt.
A crystal clear dissatisfaction in her eyes, no reaction, no hint she could decipher on that emotionless face. Only the chance of revelation left to her: "In my trip to the Crocotta territory, I have met someone very interesting."
The other girl placed a set of fork and knife. Nayara proceeded to cut the meat into slices, then placed a piece in front of the guest.
"It happened that this someone," the graceful motion of her delicate fingers halted: "How should I phrase it? By chance... I stumbled on someone who happens to look exactly like you do."
The offered cup of tea firmly held by a firm hand, a wave of instability generated on its surface.
To veil the confusion, her guest raised the cup to his lips.
"Who knows?" He said with melodic humor, "this world is high and big." Odd colored eyes peeked up on Nayara's hardly suppressed anticipation. "I may have a lost, forgotten twin brother that I had never heard of."
