08-06-2016, 12:34 PM
To leave the Atharim.
She had never considered it a prospect; it was unthinkable, an unravelling of her very soul. But the Ascendancy's announcement had shifted the alignment of the world, and its consequences for her - the more she dwelt on them - she began to realise were untenable. Now that her kind had recieved public acknowledgement, the shadow of her safe anonymity had been cast in stark light. How long before the CCD discovered ways to identify those who convened with the spirits? Tehya already knew that she could naturally recognise the ability in other women. Before long, she would be hunted. As soon as the Atharim had the means, they would purge their ranks.
She could await the day, snuffed like a flame between two fingers. Or she could prepare.
But leave? Leave to what? She had no life, no identity beyond the tattoo nestled on her forearm. Legally, she did not exist.
She could seek asylum with the CCD, but recoiled at the thought of laying herself before the Apollyon's mercy. She had no trust for his promised protection.
She could abscond, return home to her family and the easy, unquestioning companionship she longed for, but that sat uneasily as well. Her responsibilities were here, and duty did not end because her place within the Atharim was finally in question. Moscow teemed with the sorts of nightmares the Atharim vowed to fight. Though her own future was uncertain, that - or her dedication to it - was unchanged.
It was only her moral compass that spun, confused.
Before now Tehya had always been able to choose. True to her Dustu's spirit, she had never killed an innocent. There were many creatures from old ages who coexisted peaceably and unseen, even if the Atharim taught otherwise, and Tehya had always respected those peoples. Protection was her only mandate, and innocent did not always mean human. The recent convocation had tested her loyalty - to the Regus himself, if not the society. She had reconciled herself to the difference, and forged on.
Now she was utterly lost.
From the Atharim HQ she had drifted, and ultimately found herself amongst the growing crowds of people in the Red Square. Tehya slipped through the throngs for a view, frowning. Her concerns rooted her, arms folded, dark eyes considering, until Nikolai Brandon showed himself. She watched the display impassively, shoulder to shoulder with a thousand others. A bud of discomfort bloomed to full disgust; deep sadness, and then new conviction.
If she'd even slightly convinced herself to go home, the option was utterly forbidden to her now. This was where she was needed. And where she would stay.
The man fashioned himself a God. She saw with new eyes the depth of promise she had made to her people, to fight tooth and nail to stop the future they feared, and now took one solid step into reality. Because the Ascendancy in this moment of flagrant power truly did epitomise the vision of Apollyon. No man should have such power unrivalled, unchecked, uncontrolled. No man should be worshipped, nor feed off it so rapturously as she witnessed now.
But murder was not the way.
She stood for a moment longer after Ascendancy disappeared, to convince herself that no trouble would present itself, then turned and shouldered her way out of the Red Square.
She had never considered it a prospect; it was unthinkable, an unravelling of her very soul. But the Ascendancy's announcement had shifted the alignment of the world, and its consequences for her - the more she dwelt on them - she began to realise were untenable. Now that her kind had recieved public acknowledgement, the shadow of her safe anonymity had been cast in stark light. How long before the CCD discovered ways to identify those who convened with the spirits? Tehya already knew that she could naturally recognise the ability in other women. Before long, she would be hunted. As soon as the Atharim had the means, they would purge their ranks.
She could await the day, snuffed like a flame between two fingers. Or she could prepare.
But leave? Leave to what? She had no life, no identity beyond the tattoo nestled on her forearm. Legally, she did not exist.
She could seek asylum with the CCD, but recoiled at the thought of laying herself before the Apollyon's mercy. She had no trust for his promised protection.
She could abscond, return home to her family and the easy, unquestioning companionship she longed for, but that sat uneasily as well. Her responsibilities were here, and duty did not end because her place within the Atharim was finally in question. Moscow teemed with the sorts of nightmares the Atharim vowed to fight. Though her own future was uncertain, that - or her dedication to it - was unchanged.
It was only her moral compass that spun, confused.
Before now Tehya had always been able to choose. True to her Dustu's spirit, she had never killed an innocent. There were many creatures from old ages who coexisted peaceably and unseen, even if the Atharim taught otherwise, and Tehya had always respected those peoples. Protection was her only mandate, and innocent did not always mean human. The recent convocation had tested her loyalty - to the Regus himself, if not the society. She had reconciled herself to the difference, and forged on.
Now she was utterly lost.
From the Atharim HQ she had drifted, and ultimately found herself amongst the growing crowds of people in the Red Square. Tehya slipped through the throngs for a view, frowning. Her concerns rooted her, arms folded, dark eyes considering, until Nikolai Brandon showed himself. She watched the display impassively, shoulder to shoulder with a thousand others. A bud of discomfort bloomed to full disgust; deep sadness, and then new conviction.
If she'd even slightly convinced herself to go home, the option was utterly forbidden to her now. This was where she was needed. And where she would stay.
The man fashioned himself a God. She saw with new eyes the depth of promise she had made to her people, to fight tooth and nail to stop the future they feared, and now took one solid step into reality. Because the Ascendancy in this moment of flagrant power truly did epitomise the vision of Apollyon. No man should have such power unrivalled, unchecked, uncontrolled. No man should be worshipped, nor feed off it so rapturously as she witnessed now.
But murder was not the way.
She stood for a moment longer after Ascendancy disappeared, to convince herself that no trouble would present itself, then turned and shouldered her way out of the Red Square.