Candles
By Karen Hart
Disclaimer: The Xenosaga series is the property of Monolith Software, Inc. and Namco Bandai. I write these fanfictions for love of the game(s) and make no profit off of them.
The candles shrank in their holders, casting flickering shadows across his throne.
It was a bench, really, cast in the shape of a woman on hands and knees. A knife was welded to the spot where her neck would be. She had no head. Behind her hung a battered tapestry in shades of brown and gold. They were both found items and they amused him.
Quite a lot of things amused Albedo these days.
His world was the vehicle known as the Song of Nephilim, but these days it was silent aside from the hum of the engines and the lifesupport systems. Even the Kirschwassers had learned to be silent whenever he was. They were good girls.
It wasn't quiet in his mind. Ever since U-DO had touched him he could hear the voices of everyone connected to the Unus Mundus. Almost eight years he'd been like this. Words, lyrics, screams, hymns, poems—they wound around him like snakes, caressing him until they could unleash their poison.
Eight glorious years.
Beyond the screams and the singing he heard a roaring as from a furnace, or the throat of an approaching dragon.
No one bothered him here. Even Margulis kept his distance. Except for the Kirschwassers Albedo had no company. But he wasn't lonely. Not much. He had treachery to keep him warm.
The candles burned lower, dripping wax on the deck plates below. He shoved a Kirschwasser toward a candelabra and smiled in grim glee as she struggled to catch the dripping wax in her upturned hands. She managed not to cry when the hot liquid hit her palms, but she couldn't quite suppress a wince. Some of the wax splashed.
Albedo chuckled. He liked her. He grew up while she remained the same, agelessness being part of the nature of Realians. It wasn't just Realians who didn't age. Sometimes traitors remained the same, too.
The roars grew louder in his head. Closer, closer, Albedo thought, bring your scorching breath and your glittering scales within reach.
Rubedo, Rubedo. My jewel of abandonment.
The Kirschwasser held her hands up, letting the wax drip and harden along her arms. The candles sputtered and died finally. Now the only light came from the emergency track along the base of the walls.
Sputtered and died.
Sputtered and died.
They were white candles, white like him. That was the only similarity. The candles died but he didn't. He'd lit himself like a candle once, but his wick hadn't run out and he'd eventually gotten bored with the smell of his own charred flesh.
The Kirschwassers were like the candles. They could be consumed. But he had to be careful. There were only a few dozen left. So he lit his throne with candles, which were easier to get.
Red was drawing nearer. There was no red in his world anymore, except when he opened himself up but he didn't want to do that right now. Not yet.
He was so bored waiting.
Albedo had burned like a torch years ago, even before he tried to see how he'd do as a candle. He remembered the sight of his own blackened bones and his pink, so lovely pink innards falling out just before his body repaired itself. His entire right side had been burned away. It didn't even hurt. Not that he was in his own mind at the time.
Half of him gone, half of him gone. The flesh remained. He missed his other half.
You said I'd be fine. You said you'd protect me. You liar, Rubedo. Your wings are a deception. What's taking you so long?
Rubedo was just a boy then, that's what others would say but so had Albedo been. They'd been inseparable, until the cherry blossoms had come into their lives. But she was dead now and all that was left was a madman's last wish.
And the Kirschwassers.
"Turn off lifesupport in this room."
It was the first thing he'd said in hours, other than laughing. The Kirschwasser turned to look at him, but relayed the order to one of her sisters, who would shut off heat and air remotely. Afterward, she sat on the floor with her hands around her knees and waited.
He'd have to choose a new favorite. The Kirschwassers were all the same.
Where was Rubedo? Bloody-scaled dragons took their time these days. But most weren't carried on the back of a sword. At least not the ones that hadn't already been slain.
In an artificial gestation pouch he'd sprung from Rubedo. No one planned for him. There was nothing intended for him. Nothing but what he chose for himself, these days.
Come closer, my other half. Do you realize how close you draw to me—or have you learned to ignore that pulsing beacon in your mind, in our minds, that binds us together? Have you stopped feeling my heart beating in the right side of your chest? Do your jaws no longer rend soft flesh?
That wasn't Rubedo's way anymore, not from what Albedo heard. A shame. Albedo had never loved his twin more than when he'd once succumbed for one wonderful moment to the rage inside him. All flames and fangs and terrible crushing pressure.
Albedo had almost died then.
Rubedo would succeed one day. Albedo was determined that it would be so. Not yet, though. Rubedo had blunted his own fangs.
He'd had help. But Nigredo was a concern for another day.
The air in his throne room, never very warm, was growing cooler. Albedo watched his breath make puffs like little clouds. Did angels sit on those clouds? Surely they'd freeze, ice forming on their tiny robes. He imagined them hardening into little statues and dropping down to the mortal world below. Would they shatter when they hit the ground?
His mind was full of rubies. Red drops on the snow. The cherry tree's branches had been torn off in the blizzard. Good riddance. Cherries were bad for little dragons. Poison.
Albedo watched the Kirschwasser sitting so still. Maybe he should have given her a name, but after today it wouldn't matter.
The scarlet glow in his mind grew to an incandescence.
Aside from the singing and the screaming and the sweet whispers one corner of his mind had been silent. No longer. His head was filled with crackling and buzzing. His thoughts burst open like seedpods.
Rubedo!
Loathing filled him. Sweet antipathy. Oh, Rubedo, what splendid ire. So like acid. But not for Albedo. Just for the existence that wove around Albedo's own being, clinging like a remora. U-DO. Kill it, kill it, he heard echoing from Rubedo's thoughts.
Rubedo never would. The dragon insisted on shackling himself. He needed a push in the right direction.
For now Albedo revelled in the sheer hostility of Rubedo's mind. He felt for clues about his twin's status.
Small. Still so small. Yet they'd both turned twenty a scant few weeks ago. It was true, however: the mind that wanted to tear him apart was in the same little body from eight years ago. What was the point, he wanted to know.
Rubedo didn't answer. Albedo realized he was offended. That was amusing.
Don't tell me you didn't know I'd be here, Rubedo.
All he heard in return was inarticulate fury.
White is so barren without red. Has black begun to smother you? You barely put out any smoke.
The fury crystallized. Albedo.
That voice. That dear, innocent, treacherous voice. That voice had abandoned Albedo, had left him to face the onslaught of U-DO's wavelength. But Albedo had opened himself to that vile violation. His eyes rolled back at the memory. So hateful. So liberating. Rubedo didn't know what he was missing.
It hardly mattered. Rubedo would detonate if he ever found out what linking with U-DO was like.
There were fruits Albedo still wanted to sample before that time came.
More rage. There was a question inside it. What did he want? That was foolish of Rubedo.
Isn't it obvious? I've missed you. It's not the same without you here to turn your back on me.
He could feel Rubedo's spine stiffening. His twin hadn't had a choice.
But you did have a choice. You could have given in to the impulse to destroy. Don't deny it would have been easy for you. A pulse of objection cut Albedo off.
There was silence, but not quiet, between them. Then:
I don't want anything to do with you. That was a bit harsh coming from Rubedo.
You lie, Albedo countered. You miss the way I could focus your hate. Like this. He reached through the link, and struck.
Rubedo's mind was like a solid mass, all granite certainties. Except that granite eroded. His resolve was an illusion. Albedo tugged on his will, drawing his mind to Albedo's darkened throne.
There wasn't much breathable air left. Both Albedo and the Kirschwasser were starting to struggle for breath. Albedo wasn't bothering to hide his distress, but the Kirschwasser was making a valiant attempt to remain composed. Albedo watched her suppress her convulsions, and Rubedo watched with him, unable to flee.
Look, twin. Isn't she so like that girl who poisoned you? This one, too, is an intoxicant. See her writhe. At least this one is better than a puppet, even if she is just a doll.
The Kirschwasser choked back a gasp. At the same time Albedo felt Rubedo plead with him to spare her.
Like you spared me, Rubedo? Or have you found a way to justify betrayal? Have you found a convenient line that lets you sleep at night?
All pretenses of stoicism on the Kirschwasser's part were abandoned, save one: she didn't try to leave the room. One door stood between her and breathing, but she remained rooted to the spot she'd sat in, though Albedo had given her no express orders.
She was a good girl.
Why are you making me watch this? Rubedo's question was tinged with a spreading sense of panic. Their minds might have been close but physically they were worlds apart, almost literally. If Rubedo gave in to the fury he'd end up destroying so much that he'd come to value, while Albedo wouldn't even be wounded. That just wouldn't do.
The Kirschwasser's eyes were bulging. So were Albedo's, but only the girl needed to worry about consequences. He felt Rubedo trying to force him into helping her.
No. Not a chance, Rubedo. So many of us bled and died so you could be safe. What's one more?
Blood was starting to dribble from her nose. She didn't try to wipe it. In fact she wasn't doing much of anything now, though her chest rose and fell in a final frantic rhythm.
Do you hate this Rubedo? Albedo could feel his twin struggling not to watch. Do you hate me? Of course you do. Come find me, Rubedo. Burn me to a cinder. I welcome the destruction you can bring me—so long as you do it right this time. But come!
Albedo finally allowed the link to snap closed. The Kirschwasser had finally gone still. Rubedo would keep his distance. But not forever. Hate would sprout in him now, strangling his mind like a choking vine. Albedo would be waiting for that day.
He stood, fighting his own convulsions, and staggered to the door. He hit the unlock button and sweet fresh air rushed in.