"The queen is in rare form this night," Aydra remarked as they trotted out to join the revelry.
"Do you think she missed us?"
"No," she replied, "The wraiths haven't even made an appearance."
Sylar did NOT want to know, to ask, or even think about the concept of wraiths, so he stood silently and observed the festivities.
The party was in full swing and debauchery was everywhere. Couples were frisking each other, running half naked here and there and the sounds of music filled the air as well as the aroma of food and drink.
Sylar scoffed. "At least she knows how to throw a party,"
Sylar watched as a beautiful nymph raced by, followed by a very amorous troll. She squealed delightedly when he caught her and they tumbled to the ground.
"So what's the plan," Sylar asked as he sidestepped, barely missing getting hit by a blast of fairy dust as a female fairy chased a short green man racing by on a tiny wooden bike.
"You come back Pythaerus," the little fairy screamed, "Oooh, I'll get you for this! I cannot believe you ate all the flowers in my garden!"
The green man laughed uproariously as he created a path through the festivities and Sylar sighed heavily, wanting to be away from this madness.
"You will obtain her ring. It is the seat of her power. With it, we can journey past the boundaries of this land and find the mistress. Once we find the mistress, I can find my brother," she glanced at him, "And you can leave this place."
"And how do you suppose--," he lifted an eyebrow and smirked, "I obtain a ring from a woman who tried to kill me only hours earlier?"
"You are a man. Seduce her."
Sylar looked at Aydra with a mixture of disbelief and anger. There was no conceivable way he was going anywhere near that woman, let alone seduce her.
"I was hoping for a something a little more--,"
"More what?"
"I don't know. More gruesome. Perhaps a dagger through her heart. Drop something heavy on her head, perhaps, I don't know--something that would—say—kill her?"
Aydra smiled evilly. "Oh, you silly human. Taking her ring will kill her. The ring can only be removed by one she desires—and seeing as she hates my father and that he could cares more about tupping pretty maids than removing a despot, I think you will do nicely,"
"She tried to kill me. She tried to eat my life force. I don't think she'd be tempted to jump into bed with me."
"You do not have to bed her, just make her desire you," she winked at him, and he felt his stomach clench with desire for a moment and his breath caught. "Besides all that," she continued, "She has a special fondness for human men too. Like mother, like daughter."
She pushed him forward. "Go on. Do it."
He paused, squared his shoulders and then moved forward.
He found himself in front of the queen. In a move of deference he kneeled down to her and gave her a pretty smile, or at least the smile he gave most people before he murdered them. He wondered if she would find it appealing. When she answered back in kind he knew what he had to do.
*
They rode through the desert silently; the only sound was the occasional neigh of the horned horses and the wind kicking up sand into their tired faces. Sylar pulled his robe more tightly around his face, trying in vain to avoid the grit of the particles constantly flowing into his eyes.
Aydra broke the silence first. "I cannot believe it. She is dead. She is really and truly dead," she turned to him, "How did you accomplish such a feat?"
"Well, you told me to seduce her," Sylar answered and pulled the robe from his face.
"I figured it would work, but not after five minutes. I expected a few glasses of mead, some flattery of some sort, but I did not expect her to turn to stone in less than the space of a few moments. How did you get her to remove the ring?"
"I didn't."
"What do you mean?"
"She never removed her ring. She gave me her hand to kiss and I simply removed her finger."
"Hmmph," Aydra said, considering then "Oh," she gasped, "Ewwww, you removed her finger by biting it off?!"
"Well, I found that I didn't quite like the thought of having to kiss ass to get what I wanted. So I took it instead."
He turned and expected her to be horrified and equally shocked. Instead a smile broke out over her beautiful face and she said, "Brilliant, absolutely brilliant. Wish I had thought of such a thing years ago."
Her compliment made a part of him tingle with delight and pleasure. He found himself smiling and feeling better than he had since he had gotten to the island.
The journey through the desert gave way to a sparse and wintry land dotted with pillars of rock and floating rivers of silvery liquid.
Frozen figurines sat in various poses of despair and Aydra whispered, "The Great Sorrows. Do not, do not look upon them. To see their pain and suffering, will be your end. No matter what you hear, you do not gaze into their eyes."
A kind of sallow gloom settled upon them as they continued past the figures. There were more behind a ridge as they crossed and Sylar stared straight ahead, confident that Aydra underestimated him.
"Gabriel," a disembodied called out to him.
"Did you hear that?" Sylar said and turned to Aydra as she rode beside him.
She shook her head and pointed ahead. "Never look back."
"Gabriel, how can you ignore me? I loved you and this is how you repay me?!!!!"
Aydra was studying Sylar closely. "Whatever you hear, do not listen."
He could have sworn he heard the voice of his mother. But he continued on.
"Gabriel, you killed me. How can you kill your own mother," the voice wailed, and he felt a trickle of emotion slide dangerously down from that cold hard space in his head and into his consciousness.
"You never loved me, you never loved me, and I gave you all of me, even my life!"
His mother's voice gave way to many others; voices from his past sprang up and rent the air. He could hear his old high school gym teacher Mr. Ericson, who tried to touch him inappropriately in the locker room. He could hear the snickers of the football team and almost felt like a child again, being stuffed into a locker, helpless and alone. He could hear the laughter of all the girls he wanted to date, their raucous taunts sliding against his ears.
"Hey geek boy, I'll never go out with you, why don't you ask your left hand instead?"
The voices of neighborhood children filled his ears and he could feel tears of anger welling in his eyes.
"Dog boy, dog boy, go home!"
"You don't even know who your dad is, I bet your mother was a whore!"
The voices continued and Sylar struggled to stay atop his equestrian ride.
"Son, you're a disappointment. How could you get a B? I thought you were special, different!"
"You're a killer, a monster, no one will ever love you!"
Even Elle, a woman he had tried hard to forget, seemed to be whispering in his ear:
"You're not special Gabriel, you're pathetic! Do you think I could ever love you? You're nothing. You steal what others have because deep down you're really just a scared little boy who wants to cry to mommy."
The voices of his victims then came to the fore, accusing him, and lashing out in angry waves. A cacophony of voices spilled over him, pushing him into deep despair, anger and loss and he felt his grip on the reins loosening and he began to slip off the saddle.
"Human!" Aydra screamed.
He could barely hear her beneath the barrage of voices.
"Fight human, fight!," she cried. But he was tired, so tired of fighting. He was so tired of trying to be special and different. Maybe they were all right. Perhaps he was pathetic. A shadow of what he really wanted to be. He was nothing.
He slipped off the horse onto the hard ground.
He could tell Aydra was still screaming, but her voice seemed softer now. He stood and turned and what he saw literally froze him to death.
It was darkness, defeat, anger, loss, despair, mourning, rejection, and desperation in those eyes. The eyes were everywhere he looked. They sucked him into the pools of emptiness and he sank into their dank recesses. He fell into the cold, cold depths of those eyes, they knew him, and they consumed him, became him. He was beyond touch, taste or smell, he was only the coldness around him. So cold—so coooold……
His hearing went first, then his sight, then—he could feel nothing but the cold, after a moment, even that disappeared and he could feel his consciousness slipping away—he was becoming—nothing at all.