The Lightning that Jumps Between

Twenty Five

Ethan drank deeply from the patera, cringing at the thickness of the liquid–what the HELL was it? It was like wine, but more viscous; he passed the golden plate to Eva. Moments later he leaned forward as if dizzy, and then simply vanished. She drank, perhaps a bit too eagerly, enjoying the strangeness of the liquid, suddenly feeling tipsy. Eva just had time to pass the patera to a startled Donna before she toppled backward into nothingness, disappearing from the room.

Eva fell almost instantly to the ground and paused, grunting as she rolled over onto her stomach. It was night, and nearby, a fire crackled. The air smelled of smoke. She stared at the dark earth beneath her, feeling as if she had been here before. Then she heard another grunt from nearby; Ethan was on his back several feet away, and rolled onto his side to face her. The two exchanged a glance before the taller man glanced over the ledge toward the fire.

The ceremony site. They were in the middle of the large clearing where the Kings' statues stood imposingly behind a large bonfire and seemingly, a ceremony. The black void of sky and the random drips of void around the scene signaled that they were deep within the stratums, far away from anything current. It was familiar; Ethan had witnessed several of these memories while trying to prepare for Eva's return. But this was different–they were not witnesses, watching a scene play out from afar. They were here . Inside a memory.

"You think Miranda's anywhere around here?" Ethan looked dubiously at the large crowd of very ornately-dressed people from another time, their horses, their open tabled feast along the edge of the mountain.

Eva listened, sensing. After a pause, she unsteadily clambered to her feet. "No. She is not here."

"Where, uh, is, here?"

"It would appear...." Eva sniffed the air, immediately recognizing the scents that traced through it. She closed her eyes, hearing the myriad night sounds around them–birds, animals, crackling fire, chatter in a long forgotten language. One very obvious scent, feeling, sound, snaked its way into her mind. "We are in Godric's memory. I wonder, what will he show us?"

"Does that mean we're...invisible?"

"We will probably not be noticed, unless by he."

Ethan stood, rubbing his palms on his pants, seeming eager to have something else to focus on besides his own pain. The pair carefully picked their way down the short hill and edged along the clearing's wall, hidden in shadows cast by tall, dancing flames. Eva was mesmerized by the earthly, extravagant colors of the clothing. Men and women danced, drank...it was a veritable party.

Ethan grabbed her by the shoulder and pointed. "Look!"

There were musicians on a strange little makeshift stage, standing and attempting to play instruments neither Eva or Ethan had ever seen, except in paintings or tapestries. In front of the musicians were dancers. Whether they danced for entertainment or pleasure was not clear; it was a strange sight. But behind the stage was seated a row of several very well-dressed people, most wearing exquisite headwear such as circlets or crowns. On one side of this row was a familiar, towering figure. His long hair was down, his eyes glimmered with mirth, and firelight danced across his smiling face.

He was beckoning to someone. Eva was busy scanning the rest of the people on the row, recognizing some of the historical figures from their poorly-painted likenesses in the castle. There was a raven-haired man clearly descended from Cesare, and the teenage girl who sat several chairs from Godric was a younger sibling of his; she would go on to carry their lineage through another few generations of monarchy. Godric himself had disappeared from all history documents save for those the Duke got his hands on.