"Mother!" Achenar barreled toward me, crashing through the small hallways of Myst. I was surprised; it had been a long time since I had seen him. He... seemed different somehow. Did he trick me into coming here to Riven? "It's Father! He's gone to Riven! He thought you had gone there and..." No, my son. He would not deceive me in that way. He had needed to say no more. I hurried without word to the Book where it was in our library and linked without hesitation. Without saying goodbye.
Now I find that Atrus is not here, and I find myself trapped. Trapped, and alone in this foreign world in a familiar nightmare. I know the faces of the people around me, I know the islands, but the faces are genuflecting and the trees of Riven are replaced by ruin. Achenar must have been mistaken, but now I fear I have put myself into a spot that even Atrus cannot rescue me from.
"Katran." Eta is not meeting my eyes, which saddens me. We were like sisters, once. Now she has fallen into the Moiety way of thinking. Atrus defeated Gehn. Atrus is the true god. Atrus chose Katran to be his wife. Katran was raised to the level of deities and rules with Atrus over Riven. I cannot help but fight back a disgusted shiver when I think of these words. The villagers never say them, but those tenants pervade through every single action the Moiety makes. All of these clandestine raids, the kidnappings, the destruction, all in Katran's holy name.
"Yes, Eta?" I stand up. Despite my better efforts to dissuade their awe, they will not listen. Still, I will not recline in their presence like some twisted tyrant. That is Gehn's place, I remember all too well.
Eta still does not meet my eyes. "We are going on another trip to the surface." She backed out of the room abruptly, smacking her arm loudly on the door as she left. It sounded painful, but she gave no sign of it. I sigh and put on the obscuring clothing of the Moiety. It still hurts to see my home so ravaged, but it only stirs up my anger toward Gehn more. He is responsible for this, and it makes me want to claim my role of the savior of the Rivenese. But then I think, Gehn has written all of his Ages for failure. He is Gehn. Collapse is inevitable.
But I truly have no choice but to accept the dreadful role offered to me. I am no godlike savior come to deliver my people from the tyranny of Gehn, like Ti'ana's Moses delivering the slaves from the people of the pyramids. I seem to have been put into these circumstances for some purpose, though I know not what it is. Still, I must do something for these people, and if I have to take on this foul mantle, so be it.
The sun brings tears to my eyes, as it always does when I push through the water to the Age above. A hand is offered out of respect to me as we clamber onto the shore. The rest are left to their own strength as they pull themselves out of the water. The mask on my face holds the water against my cheeks, but our clothes quickly dry out in the sun. Our task today is to drag five villagers out of their homes, in the broad daylight, to put it simply. I have gathered that the Moiety have become more bold since my arrival. It frightens me to think how many have died in my name.
I recognize the face of one of the villagers. She is old, perhaps a friend of my father's. Her face brings back memories of the trees before they were stumps, and the children before they were silenced and taught that D'ni is right and Riven is wrong. She offered no resistance when we broke down her door. She just put down her sewing and stood as if to say "it is my time, anyway". I saw that she was trembling as they leveled the dart gun toward her. Out of a moment of compassion, I reach out and take her hand, speaking my first order. "She will not call for help." I can hear my own voice. It seems weak, and powerless, but the darts disappear.
My hand is still wrapped around the old woman's as they put a dark bag over her head. An alarm is going off in the village. We lingered too long. We meet up with the others, bearing their sleeping loads by the entrance to the tunnels.
They found one of Gehn's failed Books. They brought it to me yesterday. I realize now what I have to do, as I wrap a blanket around the old woman's shoulders in the tunnels. I must write these people a refuge. I have not written since Ti'ana's death, and I am afraid to, but it must be done. These people could die in a disastrous Age of my own making, but they are sure to die here. I will make the ultimate insult to Gehn. I will take one of his discarded Ages and write a place for my people there.