Chapter XVI: About Time

Dressed in gold and silver, Aladár Kolosy stood in front of an open field on Kis Svab hill, trying to ignore his surroundings: strangers dressed in garish doublets, loud chatter, smudgy traces of slippers and a tickling scent of myrrh. He was a spectator who listened to pointless conversations and felt the cold breath of autumn wind on his hollow cheeks. Behind him, a loud female voice asked someone: "Do you believe lightning-bearers have two lives? Can a lightning-bearer replace his life with someone else's?" He flinched, cursing his sensitive hearing and mediocre sight.

Aladár hid under a crooked tree, his tired eyes studying uneven clusters of grass and soil under his shoes. People approached him, but he did not care. He shook Lehel Varga's hand with rude indifference when the man expressed condolences, telling Aladár just how highly he had regarded his sister. Oh, they all did, didn't they? He nodded absentmindedly, lifting his gaze and seeking his father.

Vajk Kolosy, a tall, elegant man with long grey hair and hazel eyes, held himself with an air of undeniable authority. Sending nods of acknowledgement to his guests, he approached Aladár and seized him by the elbow.

"Aladár, I don't know where you are, but you are not here." Nails dug into his arm through the sleeve of his jacket, hurting, nudging him forward. "We'll get through this. We must."

Aladár did not answer: his father could not fathom what boiled beneath his mask of brittle ice. Nobody could. Aladár was fed up with his posturing, with his politics and with the disasters that it brought along. Hajnal was right. He had to put an end to this gruesome charade, he had to find a way to shake off the iron grab of this apathetic crowd, even if it meant entering their game. He nodded to his father, then squinted against the setting sun. All reason left him when he discerned a tall female figure in the distance.

"What is she doing here?" he hissed. "For Ancestors' sake…"

Vajk tried to stop him of course, but he ignored his father, rushing forward despite his warning.

"Aladár!"

"I don't give a damn, father." Quickening his pace, Aladár reached a meandering path that led downhill and he barred the woman's way. She wore a simple black and red dress, clutching white flowers in her hands. Suppressing bitter anger, Aladár barely stopped himself from shoveling the bouquet down her throat. He hated every fine feature of her narrow face, especially her spiteful light-blue eyes. She was Adeona Lascari, and she looked every bit as arrogant and pretty as her granddaughter Amaltheia.

"Lady Lascari," Vajk Kolosy popped from behind Aladár's back, "I haven't been expecting you." The three of them stared at each other in silence and suspicion.

"I am not surprised," Adeona Lascari uttered, her teeth gritted. "I know exactly what you're thinking, Kolosy. Neither you nor your son are subtle." Her fiery gaze pierced Aladár, but he did not flinch. He had learnt her energy-twisting tricks well enough: after all, he had spent years living side-by-side with her kin and sleeping with her daughter.

"If you've come to impress," he spat out, "it's hardly the place."

"I haven't come to glare at you," she snorted. "I don't care about your pathetic suspicions. The two of you can investigate whatever you like. Those who killed your Hajnal used the blood of my kin. They have tainted my name. That is the only thing that bothers me."

"Is it possible to taint your name more than you have done already?" Vajk Kolosy's lips twisted in a derisive smile. Finally, he too remembered who she was.

"Careful, Vajk!" Her flaming stare shifted from Aladár to his father. "I have come to say I had nothing to do with that murder. Neither did my children. Especially Lorei." She gave Aladár a pointed stare. He returned it with insolence he did not know he had in him.

"Especially Lorei? What makes you so certain?"

"Oh, don't be petty, Aladár!" She winced. "I know, you must be very upset that your wife has slept with everyone present here, but her promiscuity doesn't make her an assassin." She pushed the flowers into Vajk's hands, rapidly turning around and leaving without biding her good-byes.

Vajk caught Aladár's hand and shook his head when Aladár prepared to lunge forward: "Aladár, you know better!" Did he? They both knew how effortlessly Adeona Lascari could weave the true, the half-true and the preposterous into a fabric of lurid colors. Her presence made Aladár nauseous. Adeona Lascari was the last person he wished to see on the day of his sister's funeral, but she still came. She reminded him of a fairy tale wicked witch that inevitably appeared to announce a disaster. Staring at the gloomy face of his father, Aladár wondered just how much worse it could get.

"What did Adeona Lascari truly want?" he asked.

"She doesn't want to get involved. She is weak."

"Do you believe her?"

"Do I believe Adeona Lascari?" Vajk stared into Aladár's eyes, his expression strained. "Who would ever believe a Lascari?" He took a deep breath. "I was not the one to support you when you brought them here."

"You were not." Aladár paused, balling his fists and closing his eyes for a long moment. "I regret my decisions, father. But I will do everything to protect my daughter."

"And Lorei. Even though you hate her." He chuckled.

Aladár rubbed his temples with numb fingers. "Those light-bending moths attacked Ariadna, they tried to capture her. Radmila told me it was Rinari's idea. I won't be surprised if that Albanian is behind my sister's assassination!"

"Don't trust them, Aladár. Never choose one over the other." Vajk gently stroked his shoulder, but Aladár shook off his hand. Vajk's mouth compressed into a hard line. "Stay calm."

"I may not be Ferenc, but I'm not crazy either." Aladár stepped aside, greeting a woman he did not recognize.

"Ferenc Szemere." Helpless anger flashed across his father's elegant features. To Aladár's surprise it smoothed off his face before anyone could notice. "Poor Ferenc…"

"He's the only one who is missing," Aladár muttered. "We were best friends once. He loved Hajnal once."

"I asked him not to attend," Vajk sighed. "He would have come, of course, but I forbade him. The stakes are too high, and he's the Inquisitor of the Fasma. I do not want Calimachi's energy-twisters scrolling through his mind. And I know they will. He may do whatever he wants, but there is no hiding from thousands of these demons unless he dissolves into time and succumbs to madness."

Determination and anger appeared in Aladár's eyes.

"Ferenc, Ariadna… What is the point of our enhancement if we can't protect those who are dear to us? It's time we do something about it, father. Hajnal tried to convince me, but I didn't listen. We need to replace Antal Varga on the Council. If you don't do it, I will."

"You are finally starting to think out of the box, Aladár," Vajk snarled. "Maybe you have picked something from your Lascari wife, after all. But you should aim higher." Vajk leaned over to him. "We will talk later."

"Will we?"

Vajk strode away, leaving Aladár under a large Setra tree where the guests had been gathering since midday. According to an old and mostly ignored tradition, Vajk's task was to prepare Hajnal's ashes and scatter them through the temporary breaches in the Veil with the rest of their kin. Aladár looked around, wondering whether he could withstand that absurd ritual. Immersed deep in his troubling thoughts, he did not notice when Ortvai, a friend of his father, put a hand on his shoulder. Aladár bore no resentment toward the small man, but flinched at the touch nonetheless. They exchanged polite greetings and prepared to part ways, when a loud sound of flapping wings stopped them in their tracks. An enormous bird with a falcon's body and spots of white and gold on its ornate feathers landed on a crooked Setra branch, clever black eyes staring at Aladár.

"Hmm," Ortvai frowned, "We should have cleared the field by now. They are drawn to Veil ruptures. Those freaking turuls are a disaster."

"She's tame." Aladár bowed to the bird. "I know her."

"You have a turul pet?" Ortvai's round eyes widened. "I thought you've always found them messy and awkward. Turuls tend to munch on everything that moves. Besides, they are too huge to keep in an apartment."

"This is Fahej," Aladár uttered quietly, locking gazes with the bird. "Ferenc sent her."

"Szemere?" Ortvai's face went pale. When Aladár nodded, Fahej took off, the noise of her wings powerful as thunder.

Aladár hid behind the screen of naked branches, staring at other time-masters and catching their reflections in forlorn realities and forgotten epochs. The guests formed a circle, holding their palms flipped upward, the Setra tree rising in their background like a twisted black lightning. Slowly, the fabrics of the Veil shattered, visions of worlds and dimensions flowing past crooked bushes and hills dotted with houses and gardens. The flow of time lay on Aladár's shoulders, blood oozing from his nostrils and ears. Dizziness and nausea were a small price to pay for scattering Hajnal's ashes through the fabrics of reality. Aladár smiled sadly, feeling time itself bend to his will: why was he always able to see, but never able to act? Grey ashes fell through his trembling fingers as he struggled to suppress a desperate sob. It was always that way – death woven into life.

Aladár knew many things. He knew he'd find Ariadna behind him, and he did not dare to face her. He knew that she was standing by Lorei's side and that both were dressed in golden gowns that sparkled brightly against the fading rays of evening twilight.

"I knew you would come," he whispered when Ariadna embraced him, tucking her nose into his back. He felt her nod.

"It just can't be."

"It can't. But it is."

He tilted his head and gave her a sad smile. Ariadna wiped the blood from his face with a tissue. Had harm come to his daughter, Aladár would have never forgiven himself. Tears glistened on Ariadna's round cheeks, and he brushed his fingers across her face with careful precision. She was back, but she was still in danger.

"You don't need to explain anything. I miss her too," she whispered.

Aladár let go of Ariadna and turned to Lorei, whose humble demeanor felt superficial to the point of absurdity.

"You don't need to pretend that you're sorry, Lorei."

Lorei's lips broke in a strained smile. For a second, he could not tell if she saw him at all.

"We are leaving, Ariadna." She grabbed Ariadna's hand and smiled again. He did not answer, watching his wife and daughter disappear behind naked trees.

"Aladár, I need you to come with us." Vajk's distant voice chilled the air around him. Aladár's eyes narrowed as he tried to read his father's features without any success. Staring past Vajk, he distinguished five figures lingering on the sides of a narrow trail, like stubborn waves refusing to leave with receding tide. He recognized Margit Varga with her tattooed hands and Ortvai, but could not identify others. They paid no attention to him, strolling slowly downhill. Aladár followed.

"Are you sure the house is safe?" Margit Varga called out to Vajk, her gait careful and weary.

"I am sure." His father's alertness surprised Aladár. For the first time in decades, he seemed almost hopeful, almost human. "The location is perfect - the abandoned stone quarry under the hill. The area has the thickest Veil coverage in the city. A perfect place to talk without unwanted attention."

"Talk about what?" Aladár asked, pushing his companions aside. The answer came from Ortvai, whose short legs prevented him from keeping up the pace.

"We will show the Council and all gravity-switchers their real place beneath the Veil! We will return to greatness, Aladár!"

Aladár lifted both eyebrows in exasperation. "Anything involving gravity-switchers is a terrible idea…"

"Do not fear. We will change the balance of the forces. We know how," Margit said quietly.

"There is someone who can send messages through time with unrivalled efficiency." Ortvai bellowed from behind, stumbling over sharp rocks. "She will help us undo the Great Collapse and restore the reputation of Maren de Boer - our Great Prophet! We will redeem all Psychics!"

Margit grabbed his hand, and he froze. "It is time for us to make a stand, Aladár."

Aladár's lips curved into a bitter smirk: did his father put these people against the Council so that he could avenge Hajnal? The last time his kin tried to shift the balance of power, they initiated the Great Collapse and almost wiped out all Offcasts, severing the Veil in the process. Those were the Alkari who had put an end to the disaster, blaming the Psychics and their leaders for the Great Collapse. Aladár remained silent, staring into Margit's hopeful eyes. He did not like the premise and he did not like his father's silence.

When they passed through rusty gates, Aladár lifted his head and looked around. He found himself in front of a two-story house with a crumbling porch, long windows, a high roof crowned by a twisted chimney and wooden steps leading to heavy doors. Four facades flanked the sides of the building, each decorated with elaborate lintels. Behind the house, sharp cliffs rose into the dark sky like uneven layers of frosting covering secret delicacies. Despite the sinister air surrounding the place, Aladár found himself strangely drawn to it.

He shivered when his father opened the doors. Effortlessly his father pushed the cracking wood and entered the house. "An energy-lock? A rare thing to come across these days," Ortvai murmured in darkness.

"A precaution," Vajk replied.

The only thing he noticed in the hall was a smell – limp and tasteless like a lettuce that had been sitting out for too long. Carefully, Aladár trundled through dark corridors, losing sight of Vajk. He followed his father's allies upstairs, walking through what might have once been either a classroom or a living room. Pushing chairs and bookshelves away, they approached an old wardrobe. Vajk stopped and knocked. Was it a sign? Aladár trembled, pressings his palms to his eyes: his vision of Hajnal made no sense.

Two women stood at the edge of a jagged cliff overlooking the Danube. Beneath sharp stones covered with grey shrubs, river waters flowed, melting into the endless ashen gold of autumn. The taller woman looked every bit the Hajnal he knew, despite her sultry grin and the dangerous twinkle in her eyes. Beside her, the Byzantine Basilisk stared at the mist-covered hills on the other bank. Her purple Fasma robes wiped the ground, their silver-gold embroidery gleaming in the stormy darkness. A gaunt man approached them, materializing out of thin air like a sparkling cloud of mist – a phantom more than a human. Clever alien eyes scrutinized the scenery, dark disheveled hair obscured his features. The wind died when he spoke with a smooth baritone.

"An enemy can be killed, but animosity remains," he said. "The only way to stop it is to erase the difference between oneself and one's enemy. Perhaps, I can do that."

"You will sow chaos that none of us will be able to contain," the Basilisk uttered quietly, her lips trembling either from the cold or from the sudden chill of foreboding. At her side, not-Hajnal stirred.

"All greatness is born from chaos." She smiled, and her hazel eyes stared directly at Aladár. "Never fear."

Was he finally going crazy? It was about time.

A smooth hand brushed his cheek, a fresh wind caressed his hand. He did not open his eyes, flinching uncontrollably. Margit cursed, Ortvai called his name, dawdling in the doorway. Incredulous whispers reached his ears, sinking deeper into his heart, provoking troubling illusions, pushing his consciousness further into the stream of time. He winced in pain and the room sank into silence, leaving space for the soft ruffle of familiar footsteps and impatient drumming of fingers on the wall. When Aladár opened his eyes, he saw long hazel-brown hair framing a face he knew as well as his own.

"I know you," he whispered. He could not have known, but somehow he did.

"You recognize me," she said, turning away and scowling at her assembled guests. "As do the rest of you. You all want to reverse the Great Collapse, to take the blame off our kin. An understandable goal." She tossed a brief glance at Aladár, a surreptitious smile tugging at her lips. His heart sank as he stared into Hajnal's eyes.

"Hello, brother," she winked, and he stumbled backwards.

"I saw Hajnal dead," he murmured, vigorously shaking his head, casting the vision away.

"You did," she agreed. "But I'm not Hajnal. I am Virág."

Suspicious stares of his father's allies crawled over his face, and he balled his fists. Gazing at Virág, he knew one thing: she was exactly what she claimed to be. She was his sister. She shrugged insouciantly, then laughed - it was a desperate and clear rattle of a hunter losing her prey. In that dark and damp room, she looked like a monster from a folktale, shepherding ignorant children to her lair only to feed on their curiosity and release them.

"I am a lightning-bearer," she said, staring into Aladár's unblinking eyes. "Our father believes I was born insane."

"I could not keep the three of you together," Vajk uttered behind him. "She would have been killed. She is not like you and Hajnal."

"Not like us?" Fury swelled up in Aladár's heart. In that twisted world, the woman with a smile of a forest sprite was the only honest person he had ever met. His wife and parents lied to him, even his daughter did. But his sisters would not. Either of them.

"We see and feel each other," Aladár said, feeling the stream of time flow through his veins, "We are stronger when we are together. You've kept us apart because you were afraid of us, father."

"Aladár!"

He ignored the desperate edge of Vajk's voice, bitter anger clouding his thoughts. He prepared to punch his father in the face, when Virág caught his wrist. She knew.

"He wanted to protect me," she said, her words calming him like a distant lullaby. "He is a bastard, but he has a point. Your presence only enhances my curse. Eventually, I will descend into madness. Like any other lightning-bearer."

"I… I wish I could have known. I should have known." Aladár could not bring himself to suppress the storm of shame, guilt and longing that threatened to overwhelm him. Vajk ignored him, staring at his sister instead.

"She can send messages through time. No time-master could ever do this. She is outstanding."

She shrugged with indifference. "I have recently discovered that particular talent."

Aladár stepped away from her, shaking his head and digesting the implicit threat of her words. Terrified and confused, he was certain of one thing: he was not going to let anyone use his sister's enhancement. Especially his father.