People always say

Life is full of choices

No one ever mentions fear

Or how the world can seem so vast

On a journey to the past

-- Anastasia (musical), Journey to the Past

Back in the Land of the Living Irímé was getting anxious. They hadn't heard a sound from the bedroom for over an hour. Shizuki was beginning to notice something was wrong. Siarvin and Koyuki's attempts to distract him with board games wouldn't work forever.

In an undertone he asked, "Why is Abi still in there? What's she doing?"

Siarvin shrugged helplessly. "She said she'll bring him back."

Irímé had a sudden image of Ilaran turned into one of Abi's mindless corpses. He shuddered. It was such a profoundly wrong image he wouldn't be surprised if Ilaran came back from the dead just to prevent it happening.

What Abi and her friends had forgotten was that many people had witnessed her attack Haliran. Raivíth publicly announced she had been punished for it, yes. But a simple announcement wasn't enough to stop all the rumours her actions had caused.

The police received more than garbled twenty reports within an hour that Abi was a necromancer who'd attempted to murder someone. After the twentieth report they decided they had to do something. So a group of policemen set off to arrest her.

The first thing Abi noticed about this new scene was how cold it was. Now even the blazing fire in the middle of the room could keep out the chill. All it did was cast most of the room into darkness broken by flickers of light.

Ilaran was there, older again than he'd been last time but still not quite an adult. If she had to guess she'd say he was about the same age as she was now. Another man stood opposite him, a blond man several decades older than him and in mud-stained travelling clothes. Abi was amused to note how the two men couldn't have looked more like opposites if they'd tried. The blond man was quite short, had a square jaw and wavy hair, and wasn't overweight but certainly wasn't underfed either. Ilaran was tall, had a very angular face and straight hair, and looked even thinner now than he did as an adult. The two of them put side-by-side could serve as personifications of substance and shadow. Yet there was a vague resemblance between them, just enough for her to remember the blond boy from the first time she'd arrived in Ilaran's memories.

Another half-sibling? How many does he have?

"What do you want?" Ilaran asked in a bored voice. He didn't even look at the other man. Instead he flipped through an atlas.

Instead of answering the question the man said, "I know where the cult are meeting. My mother's one of them. They've deluded her into believing they have the truth."

"I'm not surprised," Ilaran said coldly. "What has that to do with me?"

The man looked taken aback at this reaction. "You swore to stamp them out. They're killing people from the city."

"Stamp them out with what army?" Ilaran asked. "In case you've forgotten I'm still just a student. My mother is ill. I have no friends or supporters to turn to in this city."

The man was silent for several minutes. "I know you killed that teacher. In his own house, no less."

Ilaran looked up sharply. "What of it? Are you going to call me a murderer for killing a man who tried to rape me?"

"No, of course not. I just meant you can obviously get into people's houses unseen. I know who some of the cultists are. You can look for evidence--"

"--And walk right into a trap. No, thank you. Go back to your whore mother and tell her that her plan has failed. You will never be King of Ahalál[1] while I live. And I will not be killed so easily."

Where's Ahalál? Abi wondered. I thought Ilaran was prince of Tananerl. It wasn't a place she'd ever heard of before. It didn't even sound like a language she recognised. Though now she thought of it, Ilaran had never actually said he was from Tananerl. He could be from almost anywhere.

The blond man's patience ran out. "For the gods' sake, Raitálen! Not everything is a plot against you!"

"Forgive me for not trusting the word of a bastard. Especially not one who'll inherit everything if I die before our dear father."

The man took a deep breath. Then another. Then another. Abi felt mildly sorry for him.

"Look," he said wearily, "I haven't spoken to my mother for almost a year. We weren't exactly close before that. But ever since she got involved in the cult she's tried to convert me every time she sees me. She's convinced I'm going to hell unless I join too. She's even threatened to denounce me as a heretic to their priests. You know what that means."

Ilaran nodded slowly. He stared expectantly at his half-brother. "Well? What else? Surely that's not the end of your story."

He did not sound like he believed a word of it. The other man clearly sensed that too. He grimaced but pressed on regardless.

"I want to destroy the cult. So do you. We can work together. I have no reason to want you dead when you can help me. Believe that even if you don't believe anything else."

Quick as lightning Ilaran pulled a knife out of his sleeve and aimed it at his half-brother's throat. The other man froze. So did Abi. She watched in horror as Ilaran stepped closer until the blade was touching the man's throat.

Conversationally Ilaran said, "Swear you aren't planning to kill me, Nuvildu. Right now. And if I'm not convinced..."

He trailed off. There was no need for him to continue. Nuvildu paled. For a second they stared at each other in silence. Then Nuvildu reached up and closed his hand over Ilaran's on the knife's hilt. With an air of calm indifference he pressed the blade even closer to his skin. A thin rivulet of blood trickled down to his collar.

Ilaran's eyes widened. A hint of panic showed in his voice when he spoke. "What are you--"

Nuvildu cut him off. "I swear I am not planning anything against you. I renounce all my rights to the throne and I swear to serve you loyally if you give me the chance. I swear I will do anything you ask of me."

Ilaran gawked at him. The look on his face would have been funny under any other circumstances. "What if I ask you to cut your own throat right now?"

"Then I will do it." Nuvildu's voice shook only slightly.

Minutes ticked by as the two of them stared at each other. Nuvildu still held the knife at his throat. His hand was over Ilaran's, so Ilaran couldn't draw back without the risk of jarring the knife and injuring him more.

"All right," Ilaran said at last. "Can you let go now?"

Abi understood very little of their discussion. It was mainly about people and places she'd never heard of. All she gathered was that there was a cult worshipping someone called the Blue Lady, they burnt heretics -- which included anyone their leaders disliked -- at the stake, and they were forcing people to convert on pain of death. Ilaran and Nuvildu were busily making plans to destroy the whole cult. She had never heard of the cult before, so she assumed they succeeded. She moved on.

At first glance the next scene was so like the last one that she thought she hadn't left it at all. It was still bitterly cold. A fire blazed in front of her. But now the room was much more crowded and noisy. She looked around and realised it wasn't a room at all. She was outside now, in a city square full of people. There was no sign of either Ilaran or Nuvildu.

Wails rose from a group of people in handcuffs. Soldiers guarded them with drawn swords. A woman in the robes of a magistrate stepped into the middle of the square.

"Be it known," she declared in ringing tones, "that this people were the leaders of the monstrous organisation known as the Cult of the Blue Lady. They murdered over five thousand people who refused to convert. Under the law they are all condemned to die in the same way they killed their victims: to be burnt alive at these stakes."

Behind the magistrate stood a collection of stakes surrounded by firewood. The soldiers dragged the condemned criminals over to them. The crowd screamed insults and hurled things at the handcuffed men. The magistrate picked up a torch and lit it in the fire beside Abi.

Abi couldn't bear to watch any more. She turned away. There amidst the crowd she finally saw Ilaran and Nuvildu. Both of them watched the unfolding horror with expressions of grim triumph.

Someone screamed behind her. The smell of burning flesh filled the air. Abi stumbled away from the scene and onto the pathway again.

I hope whatever I see next is less horrifying, she thought.

It was daylight when the world came into focus again. Ilaran and Nuvildu sat together on a wall overlooking a river. Nuvildu idly tossed stones into the water. Ilaran was busy reading a textbook.

"What now?" Ilaran asked suddenly. "We destroyed the cult. What do you intend to do now?"

Nuvildu picked up another stone and dropped it. He watched the ripples before answering. "Stay with you, I suppose. My mother's dead."

"My mother's dying."

Both of them fell silent. Ilaran placed a bookmark on the page and closed the book.

"I'd like her to see me become king before she dies," he said wistfully. Then he turned to Nuvildu. "Would you help me kill our father?"

Abi squawked, "What?"

Nuvildu didn't bat an eyelid. "If that's what you want."

They're joking, Abi told herself. No one would actually kill their own father.

Very warily she took another step along the path. Who knew what she'd find this time? She stopped. The world resolved itself into a throne room. Nuvildu held a struggling man in place. Ilaran stood over them with a sword. All the colour drained from Abi's face.

The man looked up. It was their father, his face contorted into a furious snarl. "You-- Traitors!"

"You killed your mother for the throne," Ilaran said coldly.

His father fell silent. He gazed up at the raised sword with terrified eyes.

The sword fell. His head dropped to the floor. Abi screamed.

Both Seroyawa and Saoridhlém placed a high value on filial piety -- Seroyawa more than Saoridhlém. Children were expected to show proper respect to their parents. To always treat them well. To love them. To never disgrace them. Killing one of your parents was unthinkable.

The little voice from earlier repeated its question. It repeated it very emphatically. Is he worth all this effort? Is he worth saving?

"I don't know," Abi said aloud. The decapitated body lay in a pool of its own blood. There was something eerily reminiscent of Ilaran's death in that scene. "I just don't know."

Meanwhile, in the Land of the Dead...

"She kissed her brother? She kissed her brother?[2]"

Death shrugged. "Foster brother, I believe. And it was to win a bet."

That hardly made things any better. Ilaran shuddered. What other horrors did Abihira's memories have in store for him?

"Shall we continue the game?" Death asked.

Ilaran eyed the board suspiciously. "Haven't I already lost?"

"Not yet. You've as good as lost, though. Perhaps we should start over."

Ilaran weighed his options. He could spectacularly lose yet another game of chess. Or he could sit around with nothing to distract him from the contents of Abihira's mind. It was an easy decision to make.

"When will she get here?"

"Soon," Death said maddeningly. "Quite soon."

Ilaran groaned.