Divine Descent

Chapter Four

                                       Siwa, Egypt

Even in the tail-end of the month of December, the climate in Egypt is dry from a scorching sun. The sun shines off of the yellow dunes, blowing tiny beads of sand into the air. My fingers loosen their grip on the reins, reins which are harnessed to a particularly sloth-like camel. While Elijah's mammal bleats with energy, tussling him about on the uneven mountains of sand, mine is content with a slow steady pace, more interested in the treats I have to give him more than anything else.

It's not like there's anything to hurry to anyway. Lengthening our distance from the ancient oasis of Siwa, Elijah and I have expanded our horizons, moving into the hundreds of kilometers of Sahara desert with almost nothing but the clothes on our back. The camels have their water and food, dangling from a pack on their backs.

Elijah's necessary form of substance would have been difficult to get into Siwa with, as there was military presence in at least two stops on the 12-hour excursion we took to reach the city. I could have brought us there easily in seconds, one leap from Cairo to another, but we both came to the agreement that the entirety of life cannot be fed to us. Elijah pressed that the journey will make the destination all the more worth the wait.

And he was damn right.

We've been in desert for days now and I still can hardly believe my eyes.

One would think sand would get tiring to look at, but I'm no less energetic than I was leaving days ago without a guide.

"Damien and Paris send their love," Elijah announces his head focused on the paper in one of his hands. He manages to hold himself astride easily with one hand on his own reins.

"And Erika?"

"She sends no word, but she's with them."

It's impossible not to feel a momentary pang of unease at that, recalling the anger—more like disappointment—our relatively new friend felt once we explained what option we'd chosen to take. The easy way out. In leaving for Cairo, we've left the vampire race to their new leaders, to rise or fall at their own will. Paris and Damien, while unsure, were content at the idea of leaving the damage behind, of returning to France and their friends after nearly a year of despair. Erika wanted the fight, not because she was the most effected by what they'd done. Elijah's death was hard for us all, but nowhere in the same way.

Erika, rightfully, sees what could go wrong. She sees an opportunity for power, and how we are rejecting it. After so long in solitude, in the shadow of her prolific sister, Italy, the tribunal, would be a chance to rise up in this new revolution, to carve herself into her kind's history. I didn't have to listen to her thoughts to understand her anger.

Hoping to shake off the guilt, my eyes slim to scan the open desert, all of the untouched sand. There were others trekking, but none have ventured this far. We've had to rest the camels a few times.

"It's so strange seeing no civilization anywhere. Kind of eerie."

Elijah folds the letter from his progeny's, tucking it away in his shirt. All of their letters are tucked there, by his unbeating heart. "You can take us through space and time, my love."

"And if my powers suddenly disappear?"

He looks at me, squinting, his smile gleaming and instantly, I'm struck by the sight of him with this backdrop of the world. I didn't know it, but Elijah thrives in the sun. While it cannot affect the paleness of his skin, the lack of constraints, the lack of threats have made my companion look younger than his ripe old age of seven-hundred, or twenty-nine. Either one. With stubble sweeping his cutting jaw and a smile that is bright enough to transform his face without inducing a single crease or wrinkle, I see little of the man I once knew in Russia.