The Endless Dusk

Chapter One

The Endless Dusk

The air was not as he had known it.

It was heavier... slower... as though it passed through hidden layers before reaching his chest.

Raed opened his eyes slowly, and rose leaning on his palms, his heart beating with a familiar military rhythm trying to convince him that what was happening was merely a passing shock.

Yet the ground beneath his feet was not the ground of his house.

It was dark, smooth stone, tinged with purple as though it had soaked through a long night and had not yet dried.

He raised his gaze... and froze.

Before him rose towering walls, carved from a single rock, with no joints between its stones, and no trace of a builder's hand.

A great Gate stood at the center of the wall, topped by an engraved circle.

Two lines intersected at its heart, and at the point of intersection a small stone glowed with a faint purple light that was barely visible.

He swallowed.

This was not a place he knew.

Nor a city he had seen on a map.

He looked around, searching for a road or a trace to tell him how he had arrived.

But behind him there was only a still grey desert, with no footprints in it... nor the shadow of a former step.

He returned his gaze to the sky.

He saw no sun.

And he found no moon.

The sky was a color suspended between dusk and night, unchanging, unmoving, as though time had stopped at a single moment and refused to advance.

He pushed the Gate with his hand.

It made no creak.

Instead it parted with a heavy silence.

He entered.

And the silence inside was deeper.

Winding stone streets, tall buildings with long narrow windows, oil lamps hung on the walls, casting a faint golden light that did not resist the shadow... but coexisted with it.

Men passed in long dark robes, with broad leather belts.

Women in layered gowns, their wide sleeves falling quietly.

No garish colors, no glaring ornament.

Everything here was old.

Not old and neglected...

But old and preserved, as though it had chosen to remain so.

One of the passersby stopped and looked at him for a long moment.

Then he bowed slightly, and said in a calm, measured voice:

"May your path be kept safe, newcomer."

Raed froze.

The man had not asked him who he was.

He had not found his different clothes strange.

He had shown no alarm.

As though his coming... was expected.

Raed took a step forward, trying to steady his voice:

"Where am I?"

The passersby exchanged silent glances, then an old man answered him:

"You are in Miraval."

They pronounced the name as one would pronounce an ancient covenant, not a city.

Miraval.

The name echoed in his chest.

And as he tried to comprehend what he heard, he felt a faint heat in his right palm.

He looked at it quickly.

A faint mark had appeared on his skin... a circle, with two lines intersecting at its heart.

The Sigil itself.

He raised his head slowly.

And atop the distant Circular Tower,

the small stone at the center of the Sigil flared... with a deeper purple.

As though the city...

had sensed his arrival.

And beneath the sky of the Endless Dusk,

Raed felt for the first time in his life

that it was not he who had entered the city...

but it that had closed upon him

He did not stand long in the square.

No sooner had the glow of the Sigil above the Tower faded than the crowd parted quietly, and an old man advanced with slow steps, leaning on a wooden staff engraved with the same design.

He was tall despite the stoop of his shoulders,

his beard thick and white, and his eyes sharp in a way that did not accord with his age.

He stopped before Raed, regarded him at length, then said in a low, steady voice:

"Stay, my son. The ground has not yet grown accustomed to your step."

Raed did not understand what he meant, yet the man extended his hand and helped him to rise as though he had seen him falling from the start.

"Who are you?" Raed asked with a sharpness he could not hide.

"And where exactly am I? And how did I come here?"

The old man smiled a brief smile that did not reach his eyes.

"Questions are put off until their time. As for tonight... you are my guest."

"A guest?!"

Raed looked around him again.

"I do not know this place. I do not know you. I want a clear explanation."

The man said with a strange calm:

"And you shall have it. Tomorrow, in the Council Hall."

Then he pointed with his staff toward one of the narrow alleys.

"Follow me."

Raed hesitated a moment, then walked behind him.

He had no other choice.

The Hut was at the edge of the city, near the inner wall.

A small stone building, topped by a single window from which a faint oil light emanated.

Raed entered after the man, and the scent of dried herbs hanging from the ceiling reached his nose.

No modern furniture, no shining metal, nothing resembling his own time.

The Old Messenger sat near the hearth, and gestured toward a cushion opposite him.

"Sit, Raed."

He froze.

"How did you know my name?"

The old man raised his gaze to him, and said simply:

"Miraval has brought no one it does not know."

A heavy silence prevailed.

Raed took a step closer, his voice hardening:

"Did you bring me here? Was the book a trap? What do you want from me? And why does that Sigil glow whenever I look at it?"

He was speaking quickly, as if he feared he would lose control if he stopped.

The man answered him calmly:

"I am a messenger, not the one in command.

My task is to receive you and prepare you for what will be said to you tomorrow."

"Then who holds the answers?"

"The Council Hall."

Raed clenched his fists.

"And what is my task here?"

The Old Messenger looked at the fire burning before him and said slowly:

"You did not come to Miraval in vain.

For every newcomer there is a Covenant... and for every Covenant there is a price."

Raed drew closer and stared at him:

"What Covenant? I have sworn nothing."

The Old Messenger raised his staff a little, and the engraving of the Sigil was revealed on its wood.

"Not every oath is taken with words."

A longer silence prevailed this time.

At last Raed sat down, but the questions did not quiet in his head.

"Why me?"

The old man answered after a moment:

"Because the city chose you."

"And how does a city choose a man?"

Their eyes met.

"As fire chooses what it devours."

Raed felt a shiver run down his back, despite the warmth of the hearth.

"Can I return?"

The question came out more softly than he had intended.

The man did not answer directly.

Instead he said:

"The two roads do not remain open for long."

Then he rose slowly and pointed to a simple pallet in the corner of the Hut.

"Rest tonight.

Tomorrow your case will be brought before the Council Hall.

And there... you will know why you came,

and why no one is summoned to Miraval in vain."

Raed lay down, but sleep did not come.

And from beyond the wall of the Hut,

he saw a faint purple glow emanating from the heart of the city...

as if it

were keeping watch over him.