Legacy (The Biodome Chronicles) (38 page)

“We have the Scroll. As promised, please show us how to use it.” Leaf looked at him expectantly.

“I will only show the Maiden as she asked first, and quite forcefully if I remember correctly.”

Fillion gave her a knowing smile, softly biting his lower lip
again. An amused smile formed in reply, quick and fleeting to ensure her brother didn’t see. Leaf, however, was not amused, and Willow’s brother continued to glare at him with contempt.

“No, you shall show me and she shall watch,” Leaf spoke with finessed command, each word sharp and clipped.

“You dare contradict a Dungeon Master?” Fillion snapped, watching Leaf ponder his question while maintaining an authoritative posture. “Well, this was fun. I wish you luck, Leaf Watson, as you enter my world.” With a softer tone, he turned to Willow, “Fair Maiden, please don’t ever forget me.”

Fillion moved his hand to the right, out of sight of the camera, hoping it appeared like he was about to push a button and end their session.

“No, wait! My apologies, sir.”

Leaf placed the Scroll in Willow’s hands, clearly annoyed that his authority was trumped. Fillion smiled, the strategy had worked.

“You learn fast, Leaf. In your world you may have influence, but don’t forget for one second that you are not a master of mine.”

He watched Willow stiffen, her fists curled at her sides while gripping the Scroll. Fillion enjoyed her spunk when she grew mad, and bit the inside of his cheek to refrain from smiling.

“My Lord, I have changed my mind. I would rather figure out this device
on my own
than spend another minute with this narcissist. My own company is more preferable to this Outside trash.”

She turned around and grabbed Leaf’s hand, pulling him toward the ladder. Leaf stalled, turned around and began walking toward the portal, refusing to meet
Fillion’s eyes. Fillion figured that Leaf planned to turn off the computer. Both siblings stopped when they heard unfamiliar laughter, glancing back at Fillion.

“Is someone with you?” Leaf asked as both eyebrows shot up.

“No. It’s the village idiot in another room,” Fillion ground out as he pulled the hood over his eyes further.

“I wish you all the best,
Dungeon Master,” Leaf said sincerely. The nobleman gave him one last look and a nod of respect before reaching off-screen toward what Fillion guessed was the power button.

“One more moment,” Fillion said.

Leaf walked back into sight of the video feed, and Willow tentatively came up beside him.

“The Scroll activates with a button on the side. The first screen is a password request. Type the word ‘4elements,’ with the number not the letters, all one word, using the keyboard. I had to change the password for better protection.” He halted, and looked at Willow timidly, knowing this was the end. In a few minutes the Dungeon Master would exist no more. “On the next screen, tap the icon for Messenger Pigeon—it’s a picture of a bird with a note carrier around its neck. Use that to deliver notes to Hanley Nichols or to Jeff Abrahms, whoever you pick. You’ll also receive notes and replies through Messenger Pigeon, so be sure to check regularly. The battery regenerates with solar energy; it only needs five minutes of sunlight.”

“Thank you, sir,” Willow whispered with an affected and soft voice.

A shy smile formed
as she met his eyes while playing with her hair once again, causing confusion and boldness to swirl inside of him. This was Fillion’s last chance to speak to her as himself until he became owner of New Eden. So he decided to take the plunge and push past his better judgment.

“I meant what I said earlier, Maiden. Actually, I want to call you Willow.” Fillion paused as nerves fluttered uncontrollably in his stomach. Swept away in this moment, he felt as though the room had narrowed to only him and Willow Oak Watson. Softly, he said, “Please don’t ever forget me, Willow. I will
never
forget you. I hope one day that you’ll become fond of trash.”

He stammered through the last line, becoming more emotional than he intended. His insecurities took over and he grew more awkward with each breath. The motion in his stomach cramped, and the bile rose as he mentally did all in his power to maintain control. “I’m such a loser,” he whispered to himself, taking a deep breath.

Fillion rested his gaze on her mouth, flushed and parted, clearly moved by his words. And then he looked back into her eyes, afraid of what she would communicate in reply. He had faced a lot of rejection in his life. Opening himself up to her was risking a pain he had never known, and yet, he couldn’t help himself. He wanted her to know, even if it killed him. He wanted her to remember this moment for when he returned a little over two years down the road as owner.

Recalling that his dad and her brother were listening,
Fillion’s narrowed vision expanded back to reality. He felt his face warm as sweat broke out on his forehead, and Fillion wanted to lower his head to the desk and disappear. God, he was mental.

Willow placed a hand on her heart, a shy smile on her lips as she did so. She blinked,
trying to meet his timid gaze with a look he couldn’t comprehend. Was she about to cry over him? Or had he elicited her pity?

With a sigh, she said, “Voici un témoignage de mon affection, conservez-le bien.”

The most beautiful smile formed on her face as her hand gently rested on her chest. With slow motions she gestured that she was giving her heart to him, extending her open palm toward the screen.
Fillion froze, completely bewildered. He was afraid to breathe, afraid to think.

She gave him her heart?

A humbling joy surged through him, the foreign emotion buzzing through his limbs and warming his chest. It was followed by humility that she would trust him, especially after how he had treated their family. He didn’t understand her hidden message in French. But he understood what she had gifted to him, and the French word for affection, which stood out.

A full smile stretched across his face, bashful with her unexpected acceptance. He respectfully placed a hand on his heart and offered to her what little he possessed in reply. “
Korekara zutto, ore no jinsei wa anata no mono desu. Zutto eien ni sasagemasu.” She had secretly owned his life for so long, it only seemed right to let her know that he had officially given it to her.

Leaf provided one final glare before moving out of sight. A tear fell down Willow’s face and her lips trembled as she continued to stare at him, as if memorizing
what features she could see for the last time. Did that really just happen?

The screen went black and he dropped his head onto the desk as his own internal system locked up with a fatal exception error. How would he manage tomorrow? He had to act like he didn’t know them. Willow had risen from the grave and, for a few moments in time, taught him what it was like to feel alive.

***

The minute I heard my first love story I started looking for you, not knowing how blind that was. Lovers don’t finally meet somewhere. They’re in each other all along.

I once had a thousand desires. But in my one desire to know you all else melted away.

—
Rumi, 13th century A.D. *

Collaboration is a working together to complete tasks that produce a desired result. Although a lot of the front-end work of a larp is very individualistic (the beginning is very “my character” oriented), almost the entire production is for a single community based goal: to build a fantastic space for characters to partake in together. Keep in mind that this is an out of character concept. Characters in the game have no knowledge of our world. Specifically, I’m talking about the players and staff of a larp. These folks are together for the sake of relationship and community. Many larpers will say that their main take-away from an event is the relationships, not merely the cool things their character did in the game. It could be said that the only true “win” in a larp is maintaining old friendships and developing new ones. This internal purpose is arguably the most appealing aspect of larps. Additionally, these friendships have an external purpose; namely the development and sharing of a fantastic space known as the game world. Players and staff work together to make the game world a real place for characters to explore, do battle in, and develop relationships. Social contract permeates every inch of the game world, with every participant willing its existence into being. Larping is about the community a game builds.

—
Dave Funk, “LARP Definition,”
LARPing.org
, 2013 *

***

U
nable to watch anymore, too disturbed by his sister’s gesture, Leaf walked over and pushed the crystal. Once again, Leaf stood in controlled silence, taken aback by his sister’s brazen behavior. When he turned around, his anger turned to confusion upon seeing the tears roll down her cheeks.

“I shall never see him again, Leaf,” she said with a hiccup. “He may die. I have lost father. I have lost Coal. Tomorrow, I shall lose you. And now, I have lost him.”

Leaf was unsure of how to respond. For once, he was mystified by his sister’s behavior. Usually he could track along at some level of logic. She was angry with Coal for his disregard of her boundary lines, and yet finds the Dungeon Master worthy of her tears, the one she rightfully hurled insults toward for ungentlemanly behavior?

“Oaklee, I believe—”

“This is absolute madness, I am the first to admit this, but I feel as though I know him, and for far longer than this week.” She bit her lower lip nervously, and stared down at the floor. “I know this is difficult to accept, and I shall not ask this of you, especially as I scarcely understand the experience myself.” Willow glanced up at him shyly.

“Why did you offer your heart as a token of affection, and ask him to guard it? As a lady, you know better than to give your heart to a man other than the one you shall marry. It is wanton behavior, and to do so not only cheapens you, but cheapens him. Thankfully, he did not dedicate his life to you, proving you both disloyal as you could never fulfill such a vow. I cannot lie, your gesture bothers me. You have given yourself to a man I would never welcome as a husband for you, nor could you ever marry. It is impossible.”

Leaf braced himself for Hurricane Willow, ready to fight for her honor until she saw reason and understood truth. She was a Lady, and her destiny required that she preserve and protect herself—especially from Master Fillion, who most likely desired only the power his sister held as next in line to become The Aether.

With a sigh, she said, “Everyone deserves to know they are important and loved, and I sense he is wounded deep inside. He wished for a token of affection to carry with him as he faces death. I knew his request was heartfelt and it cost him greatly to open up and become vulnerable before me. How could I deny him?” Willow paused and met his eyes. “Fillion is not who he appears to be, of that I am certain. What other honorable token could I grant him, Leaf? As a Lady, there is none. Therefore, I gave him my heart.”

He stared at her in complete horror. She barely knew him! They had only spent an hour in each other’s company through two visits. The content of their conversation oft courted the edge of appropriate behavior. He knew, at this moment, that his sister had indeed lost all her wits. What was he to do? In a few hours her world would change and he feared how she would respond to Coal now that she had given her heart undeservedly to another.

His gut told him earlier that she should not join him at the portal, and now he was filled with regret that he did not regard his own intuition. Once again, he had failed to protect Willow. How could his father leave him? How could his father expect so much from him? Pained, he placed his head in his hands, knowing that his father did not leave them alone on purpose, but the bitterness surfaced anyway. He was tormented that he must carry everything deep inside without freedom to share his concerns and burdens explicitly with anyone.

Leaf groped for a response to her confession, especially as she had rejected a man she had known her whole life. Coal was a good man who genuinely cared for her welfare and would make an excellent husband. He was a man who, despite his foolhardy nature of late, would honor Willow and protect her reputation. As her guardian, Leaf could not think of a better man or soul mate for his sister.

He found Fillion’s request dishonorable; but as a man, he understood the power a woman holds over his life—making him bold and causing him to fight in ways he never would otherwise. It was Ember who determined Leaf’s decision with Connor, and Willow who determined the other, the one she would learn before reaching The Door. Still unsure of how to respond, most especially in regard to Master Fillion, he gave in to the argument that grated against his sensibilities as a gentleman.

“You gave him hope, Oaklee. ’Tis what he wanted to take with him into battle,” Leaf said. They would never see the Dungeon Master again, so continuing the conversation would bear no further fruit.

“Thank you for not judging me too harshly,” Oaklee said, taking his hand in hers.

He blinked in discomfort, gave her a quick nod and squeezed her hand before releasing her hold.

Willow gave him a curious look. “Were mother and father truly characters in a game? Are we living a lie?”

His brows creased and he frowned, looking away from his sister as he whispered, “Yes, they were playing characters in a game. No, we do not live a lie.”

“I do not understand. You already knew this information?”

Leaf rubbed his eyes with the palms of his hands and then dropped his arms in defeat. “The only information Master Fillion shared that I did not know was in regard to the experiment’s purpose. I thought the experiment was for physical survivability, not to test the mental longevity of those confined and isolated from the rest of the world.”

His sister sucked in a shaky breath. “Are you and I characters in a game then? Do we live a lie?”

“No, this is our life, Willow Oak. It is real.” He took her hands in his and lowered to meet her eyes, speaking softly. “We are not acting as something we are not. Mother and Father came from the Outside world. You know this information. They did, however, agree to play a game as Master Fillion shared. I believe it began as a game, and then became their life. All we do and how we live is a conviction they believed in. There is nothing shameful in any of their actions, nor ours. Do not allow Master Fillion to disturb your thoughts or trouble your heart. He was playing a game of power with us to control the conversation and justify his behavior.”

Willow let out a long, mournful sigh. “I see.” She swallowed and gently darted her eyes around the room. “Did father share this with you?”

“I showed the card to Jeff the evening you were ill following the Second Ceremony, and he shared with me.”

Her eyes grew wide. “Is the card related to this game?”

“No, it is related to another. One Jeff was not willing to discuss.”

“He clearly knows something, though. He has not been himself all week,” she said, removing her hands. Leaf watched as his sister’s face shadowed with weariness and as her usual fire faded from her eyes. Willow slowly pulled the Scroll from her pocket, placing it in his hands. “Perhaps you should activate it before we leave,” she said with a dispirited tone.

Leaf nodded and then unrolled the device onto the table easily finding the crystal. The blue light flared to life and after a few seconds a password request appeared.

“How do we ‘type’? What is ‘type’?” Leaf pondered out loud, processing as he stared at the strange device in his lap. Willow reached over and placed a finger in the blank space beneath the word “password,” making an object with a coded letter arrangement pop up from the base. He creased his brows and turned her direction, and she smiled at him with a shrug.

Following her example, he selected “4,” then the letters spelling “elements.” He moved his finger to “submit” and tapped to see what would happen. Instantly, the picture disappeared and a new one appeared with multiple pictures in small boxes. He quickly recognized the described Messenger Pigeon icon. Leaf tapped on the picture with his finger, feeling more comfortable with navigating this piece of technology, and was delighted when the picture changed over to a page that asked him to make a selection of “read mail” or “compose a message.” He chose “compose” and the lines of letters, arranged in a code that made absolutely no sense, popped back up.

He used the same power of his finger and tapped out a message to both Hanley Nichols and Jeff Abrahms: “The Aether is alive and ready for duty.”

Fillion leaned his forehead against the desk. His heart raced as he came down off the high of playing the Dungeon Master. A heady rush consumed him, momentarily drugging his senses, and he inhaled deeply and closed his eyes.

He needed to push away his thoughts and feelings and instead harden his resolve. She was a hippie, an earth maiden, living a lifestyle he found disgusting—even more so after the personal experience of milking a goat. God, that was gross.

No matter how much he tried to think of something else, though, the feelings would not go away. In frustration, he lifted his head up slightly and thunked his forehead on the desk. He then bit the inside of his cheek, wincing as the pain intensified. Still thoughts of her haunted him. It was if he was free falling, losing touch with what grounded him as he fell deeper into the black hole that Fate had created for his life. And he was about to crash.

Willow gave him her heart.

Acceptance was a foreign experience. At this moment, he would be willing to die just to feel alive. Maybe his dad was right. Maybe in order to live, something must die.

He bit the inside of his cheek hard until he tasted blood, the metallic tang buzzing on his tongue. She should have blown him a kiss, or given him a flirtatious smile, but her heart? She was insane. Who gives their “affection” or trust to someone bent on mocking them? Someone they just met? Perhaps it was a sick bond from one undead creature to another.

Fillion clamped his teeth, feeling his jaw muscles clench, as his dad started to shuffle his direction. He turned his head toward Hanley and tried to defragment all the scattered thoughts and emotions raging inside of him.

“Well, Romeo, did you finish your business? Or should I call you Dungeon Master?” Hanley waltzed up with an amused smile on his face while his eyes reflected steel. “Sounds like you’ll have a pleasant time inside the dome, but don’t do anything stupid. The last thing you want to do is get a dead girl pregnant. The media would have a celebratory feast if that happened. Oh wait, what did Leaf say? Men do not take what isn’t theirs to have. She’ll
never
be yours. So keep your head on straight, for both our sakes.”

“Back off,” Fillion said in a low voice, straightening his head onto the desk.

His dad was disgusting, probably had his wife picked out and the wedding date all set, too.
She’ll never be yours
. The words mocked him and he closed his eyes, swallowing back the humiliation as the happiness dissipated.

“I guess the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree. I never thought I would hear someone call my son a narcissist.” Hanley laughed again.

Fillion rolled his head slightly to give his dad a glare, and then returned it to his original position, closing his eyes once again.

“So, she has always owned your life, eh? Interesting insight into your psyche. A rather morbid love affair. With all your fangirls, I didn’t realize you were so lonely. I should have clued in when all the images of you on the Internet never included a girl. And all this time I thought you were a playboy.”

“Get real. It only takes one girl to create a media scandal. That’s our family’s occupation, right? Avoid media scandals like the plague?”

“Ah, I see. So, it was safer to want a girl who had supposedly died. How did you manage to raise her from the dead? Perhaps I did sire a son more powerful than myself.”

Hanley began laughing, twisting Fillion’s words back on him, and Fillion felt his face grow warm. The cool metal felt refreshing against his flushed skin, and he drew the hood over his face, feeling instant relief with the darkness.