Across The Universe Part 6

As I think it, part of me becomes sure Oman's demise is punishment-the sentence for not taking better care of Dena, for not listening to her silent screams before dumping her into the void.

As Nim and I advance closer to Oman's bedside, I catch sight of him. He lies frail and shaking on a marble altar, the thin white sheet covering him providing little warmth to stay his s.h.i.+vering frame. The knuckles of his right hand have gone white as they clutch down on a circular object: the orb that holds his universe. Even through the small slits in between his fingers, I can make out explosions of red and orange-planets succ.u.mbing to destruction.

"Nim?" I ask, pointing at the sight.

She inclines her head slightly and lowers her voice to a whisper. "He won't let go of it, even in his sleep. The Aiders think he has decided that if he doesn't give up the orb, he can't be cast into the void."

I want to cry out for him, tell him it will all be okay. But it won't, and it can't, and there's nothing I can do to make it better.

The line dwindles now, those paying heed to Oman exiting back out into the hall with masks of sadness and sympathy hiding their faces. I find it hard to believe that any of them feel either of those emotions at all. The members of The House hate death and dying; they cast it out as taboo moments after it ekes its way into the world. To them, Oman is just another reminder that there is an end to things-that eventually life is over, forever, for good.

When it's my turn to visit Oman's bedside, Nim hangs behind. I silently thank her for the gesture of privacy and round the altar to stand next to his head.

"h.e.l.lo, Oman," I murmur. "It's me, Amara. Do you remember?"

Oman stirs under the white sheet, his eyes rolling in my direction. He lifts a feeble arm across his body and wraps his cold fingers around mine. I take the action as a response and continue on.

"I found you in the Watch Room. You were sick. It happened so fast. I wish I'd been there to ..."

My words trail off. To what? Save him? Watch over him as his livelihood was ripped away? What could I have possibly done? The truth weasels its way onto my tongue, and I eventually admit what I wanted to say all along.

"I wish I'd been there to see what happened to you. To know what did this. Because I know it isn't natural, Oman. I know this can't just be a coincidence."

Oman squeezes my hand harder now, drawing my palm into his chest. I bend across his torso so that the motion isn't uncomfortable, and the tips of my hair brush against his sallow cheeks.

"Thank you," he gasps, the words nearly indistinguishable amongst the bustle of bodies leading into the Sick Room. "Thank you for believing me."

He pries my fingers open with one hand and tips the other over my palm. When I pull away, I feel the cool pressure of his universe enclosed within my hand. I look at him askance, but he just gives me the slightest of nods and then lolls his head to the other side as if I was never there at all.

I back away into the hall and wait for Nim to emerge. She comes out minutes later, completely unaware of the exchange that took place between Oman and me.

"What now?" she asks.

"I-I think I need some time alone," I stammer, hoping she doesn't catch me in the lie. "I want to go watch my universe for a little while-hide out in the stars. I'll come back once I feel better." I should feel guilt over breaking my promise to her so soon after it was given, but I don't. Oman gave me his universe for a reason, and I have to see it through.

"I understand. I'll take you as far as the Storage Room and then I'll let you be on your way."

Nim takes me to the room with the drawers, watching as my shaking hands shove the key suspended around my neck into the lock. I place the orb holding my universe into the pocket not holding Oman's. When I pa.s.s by Nim into the hall I try to give her my best imitation of a rea.s.suring smile and I guess it works, because she departs in the opposite direction and allows me to head to the Watch Room by myself.

I ease the door shut behind me. No one else is in the room. I pick the first empty basin I come to, pulling Oman's universe from my pocket and tipping it into the clear bowl until it rests suspended in the air above. The image of the chaos contained within the gla.s.s reflects across the walls, tinting the room red with death.

I take a deep breath as the sight of imploding planets and galaxies dance across the walls, wondering if Oman saw any of this before he began to die. The crystal ball paints a tapestry of destruction across the marble of The House, s.h.i.+mmering in the dim torchlight set into the alcoves.

Shaking my head hard and focusing on my duty, I allow my body to transform into smoke. It starts at the top of my head and works its way down to my arms, easing through my fingertips and coursing into my toes. I am mist caught up in s.p.a.ce and time, and I am diving down, down into Oman's dying universe.

The first thing I feel when I pa.s.s into the dying Watcher's world is the heat of chaos. I see things expanding and contracting and disappearing altogether-planets and solar systems and galaxies. My mind begs me to run-to abandon this world and return to The House, where things are safe and real and alive-but I refuse to listen.

I wind through an array of dying stars, their light dimming into nothingness as I pa.s.s by. Planets implode beneath me, turning the blackness of night into infinite red holes that span across light years.

It is terrifying and beautiful, all at once. I am both in awe and in horror at the sight of it. I have never seen something so volatile and explosive in my life, and I never thought I would until now, this very moment, as I swim through a universe wrapped in death.

I finally spot a planet not yet dead and careen into its atmosphere, turning from smoke to solidity as I hit the ground. The place is a cacophony of noise and disorder as the life forms there run to and fro across the pitted, rocky landscape. Meteors crash down across the earth, colliding into villages and cities as I watch on. I am a tiny dot amongst screams and crying. The world is ending, and the poor ent.i.ties that exist here are slowly exploding into dust.

It is then that I see them, through the wreckage contained on the surface of this imploding planet. Black cloaked figures meander through the ma.s.ses, slow and steady as if the casualties don't affect them at all. They crest over the edge of a crater, and their hooded forms turn in my direction.

They have no eyes but I know they see me, and then they are floating as fast as I can run in the opposite direction.

The adrenaline coursing through my veins pulls me toward them, and I am sprinting through the swarm of bodies, dodging volcanic eruptions and storms of fire to come closer to the figures that elude me in the distance.

The cloaked beings lead me into the ruins of a village. Infernos rage in buildings and across streets. I dodge debris and piles of ash as I dash across the landscape, always one great length behind those that I pursue.

A life form jumps into my path, its blue skin charred from the billows of smoke that rise up around us. Its appendages swing wildly around me and as it spots me it lets loose a string of unintelligible syllables. I can't speak the language and know nothing of this race but its intentions are clear: "Help me," it says, its eyes tugging at my heartstrings. "Save me."

I gulp back my guilt and sidestep the ent.i.ty, catching the tail end of a billowing cloak rounding a corner up ahead. I turn to follow and have to stop myself before I plunge into a mile-wide crater below. The cliff's edge crumbles beneath my toes as I shuffle backward and stare out across the expanse.

The cloaked figures stand on the opposite edge of the hole, their faces nothing but shadow in the depths of their hoods. Even then, I can feel their emotions radiating toward me-triumph, disdain, hatred. I am everything they despise, and they are everything I don't understand.

"Who are you?" I scream across the land.

The figures don't answer. Instead they just wisp into black smoke, catapulting up through the atmosphere. I follow them soon after, my own gray mist form of molecules chasing after with a vigor I didn't know I possessed.

We pa.s.s stars and solar systems; we travel through black holes and galaxies. Nothing is left untouched by the destruction that plagues the universe. I try to scream but as smoke the only thing that bursts forth from my lungs is fumes and ire, a puff that's barely visible among the implosions and sea of red before me.

And then the black smoke wafts away, blinking out of view altogether, and I am left alone among a dying universe.

I look around me, and for the first time my mortality grips at my stomach. Members of The House don't perish unless they are killed, whether that be by the universe they watch or at the hand of another being, and I'm not unaware of the danger that surrounds me. The meteors that whiz by can tear me apart; the planets that implode can draw me into their orbit and obliterate my atoms.

I am scared and alone, and I want to go home.

As soon as I think it, I am there. The Watch Room surrounds me, silent and familiar. I jolt back into consciousness and scoop Oman's universe up into my hand before turning around, intent on heading out the door and seeking the comfort of Nim. But there, something blocks my path.

Three cloaked figures, their faces hidden in the dark fabric of their hoods, stand before me. Each raises a skeletal hand to point in my direction when I see them, and their actions send a rocking chill up my spine.

As the figures advance on me, I do the only thing that comes naturally, and scream.

Chapter Ten.

My voice pierces through the door and echoes out into the hallway beyond. I scream for one person and one person only.

"Nim!"

I can hear her m.u.f.fled footsteps down the hall as she comes to me, but the sour odor of the cloaked figures' breath cancels it out. Their skeletal hands reach out for me, begging to sink their decaying fingers into my flesh, and it's not until I'm backing into a wall, shrinking away from them that the door to the Watch Room flies open.

"What're you going on about now?" Nim says, rus.h.i.+ng to my side.

Her face is much too calm, much too rational. I point at the hooded ent.i.ties, my arm shaking all the way. "Don't you see them? They're right there, in front of me!"

Nim glances over at the cloaked figures and nods. "I see them just fine. What of it?"

"So they were in Oman's universe!" I exclaim. "They're the ones that killed him and the world inside his...o...b.."

She doesn't look scared, as I do. Instead she holds one hand up flat in front of her, and the ominous figures stop in mid-glide. I gape at the fact that they follow her command.

"You're overreacting," Nim says. "Calm down, and I'll explain everything."

My mind is a whir of emotion and fear, and though I know I should listen to my mentor, I can't. I dart to the right, trying to dodge around her and make a break for the door. She catches me around the midsection with one arm, sliding me back into the corner as if I'm nothing more than a ragdoll on an ice skating rink.

"They're murderers!" I shout. "You're in league with them!"

"How do you know that? Have you seen them murder anybody?" Nim says calmly.

I blink up at her. "No. But-"

"But, exactly! These beings aren't killers at all, Amara. They're helpers of The House. We call them Harbingers."

"They're-they're what?" I stammer.

"Harbingers," Nim repeats. "Beings that cause the collapse of universes when they're due to die."

"Then how come I've never seen them before?"

Nim sighs. I can tell her patience wears thin. "The House is huge, Amara. Members can go full lifetimes without seeing a Harbinger in the halls. Plus, they're not exactly fond of company."

The Harbingers glide backward several steps, stopping in a shadowed corner across from me. I eye them suspiciously, not letting my gaze break away from their dark hoods and skeletal hands.

"Then why did I see them in Oman's universe? Why did they run?"

"They were in Oman's universe to help it die, of course. They probably ran because you scared them. They're not used to interaction. And what about you? What were you doing watching someone else's world?"

I shy away from Nim's scathing look. "Oman gave me his...o...b.. I figured that meant he wanted me to see inside."

"He dropped it in your hand by accident, most likely!" she says. "I'm sure he didn't mean for you to go gallivanting around in a dying universe. You could've gotten yourself seriously hurt."

I groan in exasperation. "You're missing the point, Nim. These things-Harbingers, or whatever they're called-they're bad news. I saw them on Earth in my own universe, and then again fleeing from the scene when Oman died-"

"You saw them where?" Nim interrupts.

I open my mouth to reply but just then the Harbingers glide from the room, sneaking through the open door and out into the hall. I duck past Nim and run after them, but they're fast, and by the time I make it to the corridor they're already rounding a corner.

I rush forth, snaking through the crowd as Nim screams my name after me. Soon I'm around the corner, and we play the same game for a while: the Harbingers just out of sight, their cloaks whipping around turns as I dodge pedestrians and struggle to keep up.

We angle down a lesser-used hall, and the crowd thins. The House becomes hollow and echoing as my footsteps slap against the marble floor. The Harbingers don't make a sound; instead they glide just above the ground, not touching but not flying either. They float like disembodied spirits from the ghost stories I read in books, part of this world but not really in it, either.

I wonder if I reach out and touch them, they'll be solid, or if my hand will slide right through them like mist hanging low to the ground on a rainy day.

The Harbingers don't float to a stop until they're by a door with a blazing star etched into the surface. I halt a few feet in front of them, breathing hard after my near-sprinting pace through the corridors. After a beat of silence goes by and they don't run, I take a step forward, but they burst into plumes of smoke before I can get any closer.

Their clouds zoom around me like a tornado, whizzing past my head in circles and zooming down to my toes. I'm caught in a cyclone of black smoke, waving my arms wildly to beat them away, but the Harbingers are unfazed. The mist of their incorporeal forms comes too close to my face and my eyes burst into streams of irritated tears. I'm forced to narrow my gaze and then close it altogether, and by the time I'm done coughing and spluttering and I can look up again, the Harbingers are gone.

I don't know where they've gotten to, but they're not ahead of me in the hall, nor are they behind. I pick the most logical explanation and burst into the Archives Room, but my grunt of anger falls to no one but Elli when I find the room vacant except for her hunched form behind the desk.

"Looking for someone?" she asks without looking up from the piles of parchment in front of her.

"Cloaked fellows," I say. "Three of them. Might've been smoke by the time they went past you."

Elli shakes her head. "Sorry, dear. Not seen anything like that down this way."

I run a hand over my face and lean against the cool wall, sliding down until my backside meets the floor and my knees draw into my chest. Confused by my lack of response, Elli glances up, and upon seeing me crouched on the ground rounds the desk and comes to sit cross-legged in front of me.

"What's wrong, Amara?" She asks.

"So much," I reply. "Oman's dying, and I'm being chased by these figures. Nim calls them Harbingers and acts like they're nothing to worry about, but I know the truth-"

"Harbingers, you say? These wouldn't happen to be the cloaked figures you were going on about earlier?"

I nod, my expression serious. "The very same."

Elli whistles, low and dramatic. "I'll be. I've only seen the things twice during my entire time in The House. They don't come around often, and they run into people even less. They have a way of avoiding crowds."

"Then how come they let me chase them through Oman's dying universe all the way back to the Watch Room? It was like they wanted me to find them there. And the way they acted once I got back-you'd think they were closing into kill me or something."

"Harbingers don't kill things themselves. They bring the killing. It's what they're about."

I tap my fingers against my knees and furrow my brow. "Explain."

Elli clears her throat in preparation of a lecture. "When a planet meets its end, Harbingers are there to make sure it dwindles down to nothing. When a galaxy needs snuffed out, Harbingers wave one sick, skeleton hand and it's goodbye, Milky Way. And most importantly, every time a universe reaches its end date-"

"-Harbingers are there to make sure that happens," I finish. "But how? How can they have the power to snuff out entire worlds?"

"That's not for us to know," Elli answers. "The point is, they can, and it's a good thing their abilities are under the control of The House. It's a wonder they obey us at all, after what we put them through."

"And what was that?"

Elli frowns. "I've said too much already. Nim'll have my hide for the things I tell you."

"Please," I beg her. "I deserve to know. After all, they're coming for my planet next. I saw them on Earth, following me while I watched my universe."

Elli sits bolt upright. "You're lying. You really saw them on the little blue planet?"

I nod, my blood running cold. "Does that mean I'm next? Will I die like Dena and Oman?"

"No, no," Elli says, her voice growing absentminded. "If they meant to end your world, you'd be feeling it already. So now the real question arises: what were they doing there in the first place, if they didn't mean to destroy your universe?"