VAIN | Inside the Universe

Chapter Twenty One • The Sacred Secret

Night had fallen by the time I reached the palace. I was insistent on walking amid the golden halls again, hoping to find some kind of conclusiveness in the echoes of their cheers, but there was no applause. No roaring welcome back. The palace was still. The sound of my steps were indistinguishable from that of a laugh in a distant conversation.

There has never been a place in this world that has invited me in more than that of a throne. I would always feel it every time I entered the room, like we held a deep, gratifying secret between us. It is a subtle nod into that territory that finally silences their begs for my prowess. And simply, just like that, we become a force to be reckoned with against all the 'gods' who just can't help but say their name in vain.    

Yet, it seems for the first time even the throne is unsure of my purpose anymore. What am I doing here—who the hell am I—if not for annihilation?

Never have I spent this much time in a palace and not torn it down. Never have I passed by a sham of a throne and left the seat occupied. Never have I failed to find all the answers I need in the night and never has the dark world around me rendered speechless when I asked it for direction.

It has been a remote thought lately that kept itself in the back of my mind, but in this moment, it wanted to be truly considered. I suppose it is the only answer that suits my questions in all their respective forms; This is exactly what you asked for.

The very second I decided to leave him alive in New York, I asked for more. I pleaded to the unconscious body of an actual god for a challenge. A fix that could satisfy. A game worth playing.

I'm losing.

Is that what this is? Is this what it feels like?

I test the word again just under my breath as if it's of a foreign tongue. It doesn't leave a pleasant taste.

I don't know how to explain the foundation I've built for myself. It's simple, reliant on the few things in this life that are undying and inevitable; the sun will go down and bring me night, and it is only fact that people will always want more than what they have. There is no emotion, no people—nothing fleeting. I'm solid, protected, aligned...

When was the moment I lost the upper hand? When did he make the first crack? Was it a gradual process or was it stripped away during one, vulnerable heartbeat? How did all of my power come crashing down atop of me like towers in the city I built? God, did I ever have anything in the first place--

Oh.

In my defense, I've never had my own strategy used against me before. I almost pride myself on how crippling it is until it hits me again that it's been used at my expense. 

Perhaps I've always known—no I've definitely always known that I was fucked. Aren't we all? The illusion of total control is just that. I know that...how do I know that and still do it? How do I gladly ignore my own delusion while I get to shoot the consequences of others right through their head?

I guess just like that; gladly.

I never said I wasn't them, right? The 'gods'? There are conversations where I'd say that on repeat for what seemed like hours. It was a simple defense, one easy and satisfying enough that it didn't need any further explanation. It was always with Neal, always after he shook his head absentmindedly into the air just beyond my eyes, laughing bitterly through the words that what might as well have become my mantra; Always so perceptive of everyone but yourself, Safiya.

Always so condescending, you dick. But no words of his, ones I've listened to for years, hit like the ones Loki didn't even have to speak.

He's an expert tactician. Cunning, deceptive, and perhaps much more acquainted with pain than I thought because this kind of strategy takes a certain kind of self preservation. He offends whilst defending himself. He forces others to reflect while he deflects.