Chapter 703 - Between Universes

Layers.

That was the word that kept popping into Zeke’s mind, though he couldn’t really understand why.  Certainly, the notion that reality was comprised of one tier after another wasn’t new.  He’d known it since the very beginning.  But what truly baffled him was that he’d never before considered what lay between those layers. 

They didn’t abut one another.  They weren’t truly connected, either – except by the routes to ascension.  And those were more like someone had bored a hole through the stuff that made up reality than they were truly attachments.  So, what was between the layers?  What separated one realm from the next?

The Void.

Except it wasn’t truly empty, as that name might suggest.  It was difficult for Zeke to perceive just what filled it, but he could feel divine energy as well as something else out there. 

And the worms.

Though they weren’t really worms, either.  Rather, Zeke suspected that they were tentacles belonging to some staggeringly immense monster, though he had no real evidence for that assertion.  In fact, he didn’t have any hard data to back up any of his thoughts.  Everything was based on feelings. 

“You’ve learned to trust your instincts, though,” Eveline remarked.

“Maybe.”

But he was missing something important.  He knew that just as well as he knew that the Void wasn’t really empty.  And what’s more, whatever it was that he’d missed should have been obvious. 

“What are you doing?” came a soft voice that did not belong to Eveline. 

Zeke opened his eyes to see that Talia had approached.  She clutched her arms to her chest like she was cold, prompting a feeling of protectiveness in Zeke.  He very much wanted to offer her a coat.  But he knew good and well that she didn’t get cold.  Not with her stats. 

“Sensing the Void,” he said. 

“There’s nothing out there.”

“That’s not true.  It’s almost like there’s a whole world out there.  An entire universe connecting everything…I can’t wrap my head around it just yet, but I know there’s something there that we’re all missing.”

“Did you ask Oberon?”

“I don’t think he’d know,” Zeke answered.  “He’s old.  He’s powerful.  But this feels like something only…a certain type of person might now.”

Like the Waymaster.  Certainly the Creator.  Otherwise, it felt like it was past even the greater gods like Oberon.  Though Zeke acknowledged that he should at least ask before he made too many assumptions. 

Suddenly, Zeke was very aware of the conversations he’d recently had where everyone wanted to tell him how to deal with his relationships.  In retrospect, it should have already been clear to him how Talia felt.  After all, she’d always been oddly devoted to him.  Even going back to when they’d first met, she’d latched onto him like no one else.

It was likely one of the things that had driven a wedge between him and Abby, though she would never have admitted as much. 

“Do you want to talk?” he asked.

Talia shook her head.  “Not really.”

That was fine by him.

“Perfect strategy.  Avoid sharing your feelings and addressing your relationship at all costs,” quipped Eveline in his mind.  “There’s no way that will backfire.”

Zeke ignored her.  Instead, he just stared at the grey haze that enveloped the ship.  It didn’t feel like the vessel was moving, though Tucker had assured him that it was going faster than he could imagine.  He’d stopped shy of saying that it traveled at light speed, but he’d implied it could approach that velocity.

Of course, it wasn’t an apples to apples comparison, largely because, according to him, the Void wasn’t really like other types of space.  Distances were odd and inconsistent, almost like the whole expanse was in constant motion. 

Which might have been the case.

“What do you think happens when we die?” asked Talia suddenly.

“Huh?” was Zeke’s eloquent response. 

She repeated the question, adding, “Like, I’ve been dead.  I’ve felt myself being pulled somewhere else.  It was agony, but not in the sense that we normally think of it.  It was painful because I was neither there nor here.  Neither living nor dead.  But we know there’s something on the other side.  Micayne proved that.”

“I don’t know,” Zeke admitted.  It was odd, considering that he’d gone to hell and come out the other side.  Given that, he should have been an expert on such things.  But in the end, he didn’t know any more after that experience than before he’d started down that road.  “I don’t think death is the end.  Maybe that’s just wishful thinking, though.  Where I was from, people believed that when you died, you’d be reunited with everyone you’ve ever loved.  I think that sounds nice.”

“I…I don’t think anyone would be waiting for me in the afterlife.”

“Someone would be there.”

“Who?” she asked, almost combative.  “My mother?  I killed her with my own two hands.  My father?  I never really knew him.  My siblings?  They were practically strangers.  They certainly never loved me.”

“Has there been no one over the past century?”

She shrugged, turning away.  “My friends abandoned me when I wouldn’t go with them,” she admitted.  “I don’t even know if they’re alive or dead.  If they still live, they’re back in the Eternal Realm anyway.  And if not…well, they didn’t want to see my when they were alive.  Why would they want to see me after they’ve died?”

Suddenly, a wave of pity washed over Zeke, but he quickly suppressed it.  Talia didn’t want his pity.  He knew that down to his core.  What she wanted was understanding.  Comfort.  What she wanted was him.

And he still wasn’t certain if he could give that to her.

Regardless, more than anything else, he was still her friend.  So, he didn’t hesitate to wrap his arms around her and pull her close.  She didn’t resist, and instead just rested her head against his chest.  Though he did feel a tremble – slight and barely noticeable – suffusing her body. 

They remained like that for a while until, at last, she pulled away.  She wiped at her eye, then sniffed.  That was when Zeke recognized that she no longer wept tears of blood.  Instead, they were clear.  Normal, almost.

“I’m sorry,” she said.  “I didn’t mean to…do that.”

“It’s okay.”

“Is it?”

This time, she looked him in the eye, almost challenging him. 

“Of course.  We’re friends.”

“Is that all we are?  Is that all we’ll ever be?” she asked.  No – she demanded the answer.

“I don’t know, Talia.  I never…I never thought I’d ever need to answer that question,” he admitted. 

“Because I’m a monster.”

“What?  No.  Of course not.  It’s because I never thought you wanted anything more.  You have to remember what it was like when we met.  You were so vulnerable, and I was with Abby.  It just never even entered my mind to go down that road,” he explained. 

“And now?”

“I don’t know,” he repeated, though in the back of his mind, he’d begun to warm up to the notion.  It didn’t hurt that, by any objective measure, Talia was beautiful.  She always had been, even if that beauty had been the lofty, untouchable sort in the past.  But now?  Zeke could allow himself to acknowledge what his eyes made so very clear. 

“Do you want to figure it out?” she asked. 

“Maybe.  I’m still trying to wrap my head around it.”

Her mouth became a thin line.  “Don’t wait too long,” she said.  Then, without further ado, she turned and walked away.  As she did, Zeke couldn’t fail to notice the sway of her hips or the shape of her body beneath her tight armor. 

“You know as well as I do what’s going to happen,” Eveline said in his thoughts.  “I don’t know why you’re resisting.”

“Because I don’t want to take advantage of the situation,” Zeke answered.  “And…”

He didn’t finish that statement because he didn’t really know how.  What he’d wanted to say was that he wasn’t certain what he felt for Talia.  However, now that he’d subtly allowed himself to feel something for her, to acknowledge what he wanted, it just wouldn’t be true.  Not anymore.

He sighed, running his hand through his hair.  “When did things get so complicated?” he wondered.

“When you came back.”

She wasn’t wrong.  Hell had been much simpler.  And given his thoughts about Talia, far less pleasurable. 

Even so, Zeke felt more than a little guilty about what he felt.  After all, she was still quite vulnerable.  But on top of that, he couldn’t help but feel a little like he was betraying Adara.  He’d barely even thought of her since learning of her death.  That was wrong, wasn’t it?  They had been together for a while. 

“Just a bump in the road that is your life.  In a few decades, you probably won’t even remember her name,” Eveline stated.

“That’s not helpful.”

“But it’s true.”

Zeke sighed, then turned his attention back to the Void.  Whatever he’d felt before was still there, though he could make no more sense of it than he had during the previous contemplation.  So, it wasn’t long before he abandoned that and headed down to the hold.  Once there, he found Oberon, Tucker, and Silik playing cards. 

They all looked deep in concentration, but also enjoyment. 

But Zeke kept his distance, knowing that his presence would only serve to interrupt their game.  As much as he wished he could reintegrate into their lives – and he probably could have – it would disrupt them more than it would help.  No – it was better if he just stayed away, keeping everyone at a distance.

“Is it because you think you’re going to die?” Eveline asked when he settle down into a corner by himself. 

“No.  The opposite.”

“That they will die?”

“That we’ll all live,” he elaborated.  “I’m not bound for this realm, Eveline.  You know that.  I’m going to move on.  Maybe I’ll live through that, too, but if that’s the case, I’ll be somewhere else.  I’ll be something else.  Ever apart.  I think that’s been the case since I decided to brave the Pit.”

“Or maybe you’re just wallowing in self-pity.”

“What?”

“You do that sometimes. Wallow, I mean.  To be fair, you have every right to do so.  What you endured in Hell was more than anyone could be expected to suffer.  But you don’t have to carry that with you.”

“It kind of feels like I do,” he argued.

“That’s because you’ll feel guilty about discarding it.  You see it as your penance for leaving them alone for so long.”

“I do, do I?”

“Yeah.  I’m in your head, Ezekiel.  There are times when I know you better than you know yourself.  This is one of those times,” she explained.  “So, do you want my advice?”

“Not really.”

“You’re going to get it anyway.  Go over there, sit down, and play their stupid card game.  You don’t need to sit here and suffer.  Or better yet, go find that undead-ish girl and see if Primordials can procreate with –”

“Fine.  I’ll go play some stupid cards.  Just don’t talk about that.”

“Prude.”

“I’m beginning to realize that there’s a reason you presented as a succubus.”

“I didn’t present as anything, Ezekiel.  I was one.  And once a succubus, always a succubus – at least in part.  I thought you knew that.”

He sighed, pushing himself to his feet.  Before Eveline could say anything else, he crossed the hold to the table where the others were still playing their card game.  Once there, he asked if he could join, and they enthusiastically welcomed him into the game. 

Still, even as he sat, Zeke felt oddly guilty.  Perhaps Eveline was right about the self-imposed penance. 

But if that was the case, then maybe she was right about other things.  Like Talia.