The gilded shadow reached into the Aether, probing, searching for the others. For those who remained. For those who lingered in the spaces in between. It could account for many of them, but not all. Some were returning to Terra. Others ignored the summons. A few of them hid.
Today the gilded shadow brushed Rangdan. It was an unfortunate necessity. But one of those not yet lost had visited, more than once, against its orders.
The voice that came to its mind was a whirling symphony of voices, both maddening and somehow beautiful. Like Bartok melded with Harlequin Opera. Slowly, it formed into a cogent series of words. A voice, but… not quite.
“Why are you here?” The cacophony asked. The question was politely put, but full of vitriol.
“I go where I wish, Malice.” The gilded shadow’s voice betrayed no echo of emotion. Of empathy. The cacophony knew better.
“We had an agreement, you and I, Alexander. One I believed you kept.”
“I have,” the gilded shadow responded. “My presence does not violate the oath made by my son.”
“No. No, Augustus. This is my world. This is my domain. You are here without my invitation. You are here without…”
“The Wolf has been here,” the gilded voice like silk glided past the cacophony’s attempts to bait it.
“It has.” The cacophony replied.
“I did not come to interfere with this world. I still honor our agreement. The agreement spoken by my son. I came to track the Wolf.”
The response came in the voice of a small, sickly boy. One the gilded shadow had seen die long before the names Augustus or Alexander had any meaning to it. “Ironic that you allowed your finest tracker to be devoured here.”
“You devoured him. It was not my choice.”
“It was not the only one.”
The gilded shadow’s voice hardened, a threat of menace, “The Wolf, Malice. When was he last here?”
“Answer me a question, then.” The voice was now that of Olianus Pius.”
“Stop that.” The gilded shadow replied, “Stop your games. You clearly wish to treat with me. So treat with me.”
“Very well,” the cacophony returned. “An answer for an answer, Gilgamesh.”
“It was not the only choice.”
“That is no question,” the gilded shadow replied, “it is a statement.”
“Explain why you made that choice, thirty thousand plus years ago. Illuminate me, if you are still an illuminator of men.”
“You,” the voice was sheathed in ice, “are no man.”
“Some of us were…” replied the cacophony.
“You did not know my son as I did.”
“You did not know him. You do not know him.”
“You are assuming a great deal, Zoroaster.”
“Then why is it you ask this question?”
“Pardon me, Emperor of Mankind… I do not follow Caesar’s meaning…”
“You have asked me why I made the choice. If you knew him, if you truly knew him, you would have your answer.”
“Humor me.” The voice that replied was now distinctly close. Singular. The voice of the forgotten son.
The gilded shadow felt a sort of gorge rise. It spoke carefully, “How many people lived in this star system at the time, Malice? Surely a god such as you knows such things.”
“Nine point two three billion souls. Rangdan V held just over half of this.”
“As you say, then.” The gilded shadow spoke again, “And how many of these were lost? Better still, tell me how many lives, not including the Xenos cerbivores, were lost?”
There was no hesitation. The voices of antipathy were themselves now filled with agitation. The voice of the lost son spoke out. “One billion, two million, nine hundred eighty two thousand, three hundred and eleven. You are well aware of this, your majesty.”
“Did you truly know my son, Faceless Sphinx? Or what remains of him, even now?” The gilded voice did not wait for a reply. “I should think you do not. There was only one choice for him.”
“Was there, now?” the cacophony returned.
“Save the ones who remained. The innocent lives. Something your followers claim that you, too, value. Though our definition of ‘innocence’ varies greatly. If left to Lupercal, the population would have been euthanized. If left to the Lion, the entire star system wiped clean. The Hound, however, chose the third way. For him, the only way. He sacrificed himself. A bargain you offered.”
“A bargain he accepted,” the cacophony rejoinder. “With your blessing.”
“And did he hesitate?” The gilded shadow demanded.
“I did not ask if he was frightened.”
“I do not know if he hesitated,” the cacophony replied.” “He made the bargain.”
“We do not,” the cacophony said.
“Then know this, Malal. If you do not know the answer, then either you do not, did know, know him… or what is left of my son is truly gone. For if you did, then you would know why this was the only choice for him.”
“Ahh… but you are forgetting another,”
“Am I then, faceless thing?”
“The sacrifice could have been you.”
There was a pause. A stillness over the worlds of Rangdan, graveyard of Legions. “… I did.”
The cacophony itself was silent as it considered these words. “The Wolf may be found as the Raven flies. Find the Raven, and perhaps…”
The gilded shadow spoke. “The survivors settled countless worlds, you know.”
A singular voice within the cacophony spoke quietly, as if exhausted it had fought its way against the currents. The voice of the lost son spoke. “Then the choice was well made.”
And the gilded shadow found itself alone again.
