Chapter 16: Ascension

  “Thank you, Shion-chan,” the old lady said as she stepped into her house. “Would you like to stay for supper?”

  Siren smiled and handed her the bags of groceries that she had helped the old lady carry home. “You forgot that we had supper just now.”

  The old lady’s smile faded a little. She shook her head slowly. “My memory is failing me a lot recently. See you around then. Good night.”

  Siren bade farewell to the old lady and headed her way. “The moon is lovely tonight,” she told herself, twirling her hair. It has also been a rather fruitful night.

  Meeting the Flame Purist was a surprise. A Supreme sorcerer’s arrival with a brood of fledglings was enough to pique her curiosity. His ejection from the underground network was unforeseen, his panic humorous. She had embedded one of her cicadas into the mechanical dog that had followed him into the underground.

  Siren sat down at an empty bus stop and waited for her cicada to return. It came back before daybreak, announcing its return by perching on her ear. Siren listened carefully, leaning into its chirps. When it finished telling its tale, she smiled and stroked it affectionately. “Well done, I hope to hear more from you soon.”

  The cicada rubbed its legs together and took off. A jolt of excitement shot up Siren’s spine. The events that had transpired were revolutionary. There was no doubt that it had reached the ears of the Lord, as she could feel his anticipation of what the Aberrant had to offer at the back of her head.

  No matter which path the Flame Purist decided to take, there was only one person he could turn to. Narcissus’s news was outdated, but she did not attempt to correct him. It was not done out of fear; she simply did not want to deal with his tantrums.

  Don’t let us down, Flame Purist, Siren mused. I look forward to the day when the three crowned sparrows reunite.

  ***

  At the Mirror Mansion at Brocéliande, Meursault and Narcissus enjoyed their drinks at the bar table. “It has been a long time since someone sat down and talked with me like this,” Narcissus said whimsically.

  “It took a long time for me to get to this state.” Meursault swirled his drink. It was a classic Gimlet.

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  “Very long indeed. However, you haven’t forgotten your sense of style. Truly timeless.”

  “You flatter me.” Meursault had chosen a three-piece suit and topped it off with a pair of leather gloves. His red-violet hair, cut just to his shoulders, framed his face perfectly. The warm light highlighted his strong features and the weariness in his eyes. Meursault stroked the back of his right hand with his left palm.

  “Are the gloves not to your liking?” Narcissus asked. “Too small, perhaps?”

  Meursault reached out to his walking cane, which leaned against the counter. It was fashioned out of the finest oak. A tiny ruby adorned the handle of the cane, and the end that met the floor was made of gold. Proteus, on his return, had presented the ruby to him.

  “I… tore apart… the Purist’s… heart…” Those were Proteus’s last words before submitting himself for absorption.

  Meursault wrapped his right hand around the handle. “No, it’s the perfect size,” he reassured Narcissus. “You’ve nailed my proportions.”

  “That’s fantastic to hear!”

  “What are you not capable of?” Meursault asked.

  “Test me.”

  “You wouldn’t have my favourite cigars around, would you?”

  With a flick of his wrist, Narcissus produced a humidor. He pulled out a cigar and handed it to Meursault, who stuck it between his lips without a second question.

  “Are you sure you don’t want to check if it’s rotten?” Narcissus said jokingly as he flicked open a lighter and held it under the cigar.

  “I have faith that you kept it properly,” Meursault chuckled and exhaled a thin stream of smoke. “At last, it doesn’t sting like it used to.”

  The thick cigar smoke caressed Meursault’s sharp and rugged features. The only flaw on his face was a small scar at the end of his lips. “Fashion aside, care to tell me what made you so excited that you even made your way down early in the morning?” Narcissus probed with a bored tone as he pushed down the ball of ice that floated in his drink with the tip of his finger.

  “The Aberrant holds promise,” Meursault replied. “However, he is not ripe for the picking.”

  “Shall I release my rats from the basement?” Narcissus asked eagerly.

  “No, not yet. It seems that Siren has her plans.” Meursault set his drink down. “You’ll have your turn after her.”

  Narcissus clicked his tongue. “And what after?”

  “We’ll damn everyone and cast them down to earth. Then, I will toy with this world until the end of times,” Meursault said in a dreamy voice. “A world without salvation…”

  “A merciless reprieve indeed!” Narcissus raised a glass for a toast. “To a better world! A world without the gifted and the longing.”

  Their glasses clinked, and they downed the last of their drinks.

  At long last, the rats of the forest finally reared their heads.