With choc chip cookies in hand, Athira and Zoe headed to their second high-rise apartment building of the day — this time in a large, spacious area of Cyan Keeper territory that overlooked the park.
After dealing with the doorman who looked none too thrilled to see Keepers in his lobby, they rode the elevator to the penultimate floor of the building. The hallway they stepped out into was wide, with a plush, cream-coloured carpet and real, live potted plants that looked freshly watered along the edges.
"I'm starting to think we should have got the expensive brand of cookies," muttered Zoe, brushing a finger against a glossy leaf.
Athira shrugged. "The note said large, not expensive."
They reached the door and knocked.
Several moments later, the sound of someone shuffling came from the other side of the door, and a few moments after that, the peephole darkened.
The voice sounded like an elderly woman. "Who's there?"
Zoe took the lead, smiling and lifting her hand in a small wave. "Hi, my name's Zoe, and this is my sister, Athira. We were hoping we'd be able to come in and ask you a few questions?"
Athira held up the cookies. "We have cookies, if that's important."
The door latch clicked, and slowly, the door opened.
The woman on the other side looked, at minimum, seventy years old. Her grey hair was pinned up over her head in a loose, messy braid with a yellow flower tucked behind her ear. The grey cardigan over her pale pink dress looked older than she was, and the various rainbow of bracelets and necklaces that adorned her chest and forearms were probably heavy enough to account for the slight hunch in her back.
"Cookies, you say?" said the woman. When Athira handed them over, the woman adjusted her glasses and brought the cookies a few centimetres from her face to examine them. She smiled. "Choc chip. You must be special guests!" She shuffled aside, bracelets jingling. "Please, come in, come in!"
A little wary but mostly just confused, Athira went in first, closely followed by Zoe.
They found themselves in a wide hallway narrowed by far too many side tables. Each one was cluttered with a variety of ornaments that had no rhyme or reason to them, though all were neatly dusted. The rugs on the floor were the same, each their own individual slice of patterned chaos that matched nothing else in the room.
"I'm a little unprepared for this visit," said the woman as she started down the hall, heading for an open door at the end. "I knew you were probably coming, but I thought it'd be sooner or later rather than now, you understand. It's becoming harder and harder to keep track of time these days."
"Did Reader tell you we were coming?" asked Zoe, glancing through each doorway they passed, suspicious of a trap.
The woman chuckled. "Oh, hues, no, dear. That lad has a harder time keeping hold of reality than I do sometimes." She lowered her voice and said in a conspiratorial whisper, "He says the cookies are a code, but I think they're more of a reminder where I am."
The woman led them into a cosy looking sitting room that opened into a small kitchen. She gestured for Athira and Zoe to sit on one of the plush-looking sofas neatly placed around a wooden coffee table. The sofa almost swallowed Athira whole.
"Now, what can I get you two before we discuss things?" asked the woman as she placed the cookies on the kitchen bench and set about opening them. "Some milk, perhaps to go with our cookies? A hot chocolate?" She glanced up at Athira. "You'll have to forgive me, I'm fresh out of ice-cream for a milkshake this time."
Athira froze in her efforts to free herself from the cushions and stared back.
Zoe, halfway to sitting, instead stood back up. "Would you like some help, ma'am?"
"So polite," said the woman, passing Zoe the cookies to open. "And please, dear. Call me Grandma. Everyone does. The plates are under the sink, and the glasses should be above the counter. I'll get the milk — milk is always best with cookies."
Zoe hummed to herself, light flickering through her hair as she collected the delicate-looking crockery from the various cupboards. With a few gentle instructions from 'Grandma', Zoe organised a half-filled teacup of milk and three cookies on a plate for each person, and brought everything to the table.
"Thank you, dear," said Grandma, settling into the well-worn armchair covered in mauve suede. "Now, before we discuss what brings such a nice young Spectrum and her sister to my doorstep, I insist we all take a moment to enjoy one of these wonderful cookies."
At the word 'Spectrum', Athira's attention switched from wrinkling her nose at the milk to Grandma, who'd continued dunking a cookie into her own milk without a care in the world.
"Did you say —"
"I did, dear, but I assure you, we have time for a cookie first," said Grandma, giving the cookie a quick shake. "It's not often I ask things of people, but if your sister is the Yellow Spectrum, I suspect you might be the dark one — and you'll need all the sugar you can get in the coming days." She took a blissful bite. "Better decisions are always made on a full stomach, of that, I can assure you."
"Not ominous at all," muttered Athira, tracking the cookie with her gaze.
Zoe sipped her milk and gave a confirming 'seems good to me' shrug before digging into her own cookies. Athira reluctantly followed her lead, breaking a cookie in half and gingerly nibbling at the corner.
"Perfect," said Grandma. She leaned back in her chair, folding her hands delicately over her stomach, one finger brushing against a thick, gold bracelet. "Now, the Spectrum. As far as I understand, the Spectrum is an alliance — a group of seven specific people, one of each Colour, that together, have the potential to oppose Rathe and succeed."
Athira wasn't sure she'd heard correctly. "They can... beat Rathe?"
"Yes," said Grandma. "You may have noticed your sister's Yellow's effect on Rathe and anything else Sin-related you may have come across." She collected her teacup, delicately lifting it to her mouth. "Of course, affecting a Sin and beating them are two entirely different things. There are so many circumstances that must be met — all seven working together, in possession of the Prism — ah, it's a near impossible task, yet here I am, watching them regardless."
"...Watching them?" asked Zoe, concerned.
"Visions, dear," said Grandma after a sip. "A plague upon my mind almost every second of the day. A million possibilities, some now, some later, some before, some never. All jumbled up."
Zoe's eyes went wide. "You're like Zac — his drawings."
"Ah yes," murmured Grandma. "The silent one, overwhelmed by the outward who instead looked inward. Devout or devastated, left to the action of a single, spoken word."
Her eyes glazed over, the teacup perfectly still in her hands.
"Grandma?" asked Zoe, shuffling closer along the sofa and waving a faintly glowing hand in front of the woman's face. "Are you okay?"
Grandma blinked. "Hmm? Oh, yes, quite alright, dear. Sometimes I just get a little lost with when I'm supposed to be." She gave a soft sigh, placing the teacup back on the table. "Time is such a strange concept, trying to bind everything together in some kind of neat, orderly line, completely unaware of the mess of maybes it's leaving behind." She gave her head a slight shake and sat up a little further in her chair. "I'm sorry, dears — what were we talking about?"
"Spectrum," said Zoe, ever-patient as Athira hung on to every word, trying to burn them into her brain.
"Ah yes, how could I forget?" Grandma tapped the small, yellow flower tucked behind her ear and winked at Zoe. "You're always my favourite to watch, you know. The most certain, the most devout, such faith I rarely see anymore. By far the least stressful, I swear."
"I'm... glad to hear it — I think," said Zoe, attempting a smile.
Athira leaned forward to the edge of the sofa. "If you can see the Spectrum, can you tell me who they are, where to find them?"
"I'm afraid not, dear," said Grandma, inspecting the side of a cookie, putting it down, and picking up the other one. "I don't see faces and names as much as I do auras and actions, particularly at moments when they make a choice. I didn't recognise your sister here until she glowed. I'd recognise that light anywhere."
Athira's fingers dug into the cushions. "Then if you can see choices, can you tell me what I need to do?"
Grandma chuckled. "If I were to tell you what choice to make, I'd have already changed that choice by altering your motivations, and the same choice for different reasons can make all the difference." She took a small bite of a cookie and covered her mouth with a hand. "For example, there was one possibility where I gathered the Spectrum myself, and it was a disaster. One of the few timelines where Energy lost her faith."
Energy — Zoe, Athira guessed. Yellow was the Colour of Energy. It'd make sense if the Spectrum were some kind of 'pure' incarnation of their Colour, which meant if she could figure out some way to identify that —
"What I can do," continued Grandma, putting the rest of the cookie down, "is ensure that you have what you need to make an informed choice when it does come. Often, regret comes from a place of anger, or wishing that you'd known something beforehand."
Grandma dusted her hands over her plate and, with a little assistance from Zoe, stood up from her armchair.
"Thank you, dear," said Grandma, shuffling back out into the hallway and beckoning for them to follow her.
"Now, to save some time," said Grandma, stopping at one of the side tables and selecting two of the ornaments, carrying them over to the next table where she repeated the process. "I can't see what the cause of these — what are you calling them this time, disturbances? Surges?" She nodded, tucking a third ornament into her arm. "Surges is much better. I'm not sure what's causing them, but no mortal Colour could rile Rathe so badly, at least not alone, so keep that in mind. Whatever it is, though, it's leading towards another inevitable in the timeline."
Athira glanced down as she was handed two ornaments — a weird, twisted snake-dragon slain by a knight, and a large, sweeping bird made of flames. "What's an inevitable?"
"An unavoidable event so influential that all Silvers will receive at least one vision of it, such as the coming of Rathe," said Grandma, with a short pat on Zoe's shoulder. "That's what we 'Colourless' are, dear — Silvers, gifted with the Colour of Possibilities. Our abilities operate purely within our mindscapes, and so, they dubbed us Colourless when their Tech couldn't register our pigment."
Grandma shuffled into the next room with Zoe close behind, leaving Athira standing alone in the hallway, the words echoing around her.
The coming of Rathe.
Inevitable.
"As with all Colours," came Grandma's voice from the room, "every Silver specialises in a slightly different way, but most will have visions of things that affect them in some way. It's part of why they keep us in that awful, awful place — less people to interact with, more focused visions, they said, like I could be focused at will."
"... What place?" asked Zoe, the concern in her voice enough to drag Athira out of her daze and catch up.
Grandma waved a hand. "We don't like to talk about that, dear. Most don't remain as lucid as I have, lost within their minds. They hardly realise they're prisoners."
"Was it the Elites?" said Zoe. "They have Zac, and if they're holding him somewhere like that, then I have to —"
"That choice is not yet upon you," said Grandma, gripping Zoe's arm firmly. "Your next choice must be one of trust, not of anger or force, lest you give them room to fester elsewhere. Do you understand?"
Zoe frowned. "No."
"Good," said Grandma, patting her hand. She undid one of the gold bracelets engraved with sunflowers on her wrist and passed it to Zoe. "That's for you, dear. It helps me remember when I've met someone. Now, I'm afraid we're running out of time and my legs aren't quite as strong as yours — would you mind heading into the hall and bringing me the small lamp that looks like a disco ball from the front table?"
Clutching the sunflower bracelet, Zoe backed out of the room, directing a look at Athira and tapping her headset, which roughly translated to 'if I get into danger, I'll call over comms'.
Athira answered her with a half-hearted nod before Zoe disappeared out of view, leaving Athira and Grandma alone in the room.
Grandma adjusted her glasses as she shuffled towards Athira. "Would you like to ask first, dear, or would you prefer I just answer your question?"
"You said the coming of Rathe was an inevitable," said Athira quietly, her eyes on the snake-monster in her hand. Hope — she'd been given hope, listening to 'Grandma' talk about Spectrum, only to have it ripped away with a few words. "Is there any way to undo an inevitable?"
Grandma gave her a small, sad smile. "The coming of Rathe became an inevitable the day you were born, dear, and the harder you try to stop him, the faster he will come."
"Then what's the point of any of this?" Athira's fingers tightened on the ornaments, half-tempted to throw them across the room just to watch them shatter against the wall. "Why don't I just let him out now and be done with it?"
"Rathe's coming might be an inevitable, but his staying certainly isn't," said Grandma. She took the snake-dragon statue, but left the fire-bird in Athira's hands, tapping the tip of its wing. "What is ash may be reborn, no matter how unlikely, and what is hopeless is never lost as long as one person is holding onto it."
"Fantastic," muttered Athira. "Call me crazy, but I still think it's better to not burn down in the first place."
Grandma patted her arm. "I know, dear. It's a little something to tuck away for later when you need it."
Footsteps — Zoe's footsteps — came running down the hall.
She caught herself on the doorframe and ducked halfway inside the room.
"There's people outside the door," said Zoe, glancing back over her shoulder.
Grandma perked up. "Do they have cookies?"
"Uh, no," said Zoe. "They have guns. Really big guns. Like the illegal kind that amp your abilities up — and they're all wearing reflective masks."
Grandma sighed and shuffled towards the bedroom with her armful of ornaments. "They do like to try and drag me back, don't they?"
"Who's 'they'?" asked Athira.
"The Wardens, dear," said Grandma. "It's rather unfortunate. I do love this apartment, but I suppose it can't be helped. Alfred, the doorman, is wonderful. Hopefully, he took my advice and went for his break early."
"We can get you out," said Zoe, passing Grandma the disco ball lamp.
"Or get rid of them entirely," muttered Athira, eyeing the hallway and earning a look from Zoe.
"I'll be fine," said Grandma, shuffling into her gaudy mess of a walk-in closet and placing the ornaments on an empty table inside. "I have my own way out."
"Now," she continued, "since you've both been so polite, I'll leave you with one last piece of advice." Her eyes — a strange, pale blue that looked almost like liquid silver in this lighting — fixed on Athira. "You have the mark of the Herald about you, dear. I don't quite know what that means for you, but best be careful with that one regardless."
Athira caught the closet door before it closed. "What's the Herald?"
"The person dedicated to Rathe's ascension," replied Grandma. "Now, I really must be going, dears, and I suggest you do the same before they get past the security features. There are times to fight, but there are also times when biding your time to keep the enemy unaware is key. Plus, I'm quite sure there's a large amount of stolen goods in the front room that may be difficult to explain if you're caught with them. Also explosives."
"Stolen — what?" squawked Zoe.
"Not mine, dear, I assure you," said Grandma, closing the closet door. Her last words were muffled. "I do hope we get to share cookies again!"
Zoe stared for a moment before she grabbed the closet door and slid it open.
There was nothing on the other side except a regular-sized wardrobe, barely half a metre deep.
"I completely forgot we came here on a note from a villain," said Zoe blankly, reaching into the wardrobe and pressing a hand against the solid back wall. She huffed and stepped away, glancing at Athira. "What she said about you having the mark of the Herald —"
"If I'm Rathe's Herald, he picked the wrong person," muttered Athira, heading back out into the hallway. Frustration left her steps clipped and tight, the fire-bird statue digging into her palm. "The only thing I'm dedicated to ascending is my boot into his behind."
Zoe followed her. "Where are you going? We need to leave."
"I'm going to ask these so-called Wardens what in the hues they think they've been doing. Maybe I'll throw a few out the window to get the point across."
Zoe grabbed Athira's arm, stopping her. "And what if they aren't Wardens? What if they're Elites, or they won't tell you anything? Are you just gonna break into their minds again, like you did with Reader?"
Athira locked eyes with Zoe.
Inevitable. The word kept clanging through her mind, dredging up every last sliver of the fear that had always clung to the wins she'd clawed back from Rathe — that no matter what she did, Rathe's victory was inevitable.
When this feeling had swamped her in the past, she'd been unable to eat, to rest, to sleep until she'd accomplished something, no matter how minor, just to prove that she could. Rathe had been fuelled by that frustration — not just at her situation, but at herself — and even now, with Zoe, with Shift and Raph and Kione and, Colours help her, Talia, backing her up, it was difficult to silence the voice in her head screaming that she wasn't doing enough every time she let them pull her back.
Zoe stared back at her, those clear, forest green eyes flicking between Athira's like she could read every thought spiralling through her head. "Are you okay right now? Is he okay?"
Rathe had been back for just over two weeks, his claws scraping against her thoughts, devouring every flicker of annoyance that flashed through her. "Nothing more than usual. Don't you want to know where they're keeping Zac?"
"If we attack them here, we're on the radar," said Zoe, holding Athira's wrists. "Even if I did agree to let you fight them by yourself, they'd trace you right back to Indigo. They'd assume you can find Grandma. Best case, the Wardens are Underground villains and our team gets ambushed every second alert. Worst case, they're Elites, and our entire team goes under investigation and we lose our best chance at finding the truth."
Athira's grip tightened on the fire-bird statue, glancing back towards the hallway.
"There is no winning if we stay here," pressed Zoe. "We have new information on the Spectrum, the Silver Colour, and this Herald thing. Let's see where that gets us before we go full last resort and start throwing people off high-rises."
A loud crash rumbled through the apartment as someone rammed the front door down.
Zoe pulled Athira back a few steps into the bedroom, shutting the door behind them. "We're leaving."
Zoe ran to the window and pushed it open. Like most high-rise windows, the bottom didn't open far enough for a person to fit through. After trying to force it for a few seconds, Zoe instead focused a thin, blinding beam of light and cut through the hinges. The window came loose and Zoe pulled it inside as the wind ravaged the room.
Athira raised an arm to shield her eyes. "What in the hues are you doing?"
"Making the decision for you," said Zoe, one leg already out the window as the sound of footsteps came charging down the hallway. She flashed Athira a smile and tapped a finger against the locket hidden beneath her Keeper suit. "I trust you to catch me, Thira."
And with that, Zoe threw herself out the window of the high-rise.
Athira dove after her with a curse, quickly catching Zoe by an outstretched wrist and flying them both to the roof of a neighbouring apartment block.
As soon as their feet were on the rooftop, Athira released Zoe's hand and strode to the edge, back towards Grandma's apartment building.
"Don't even think about flying back in there," said Zoe, walking over to join her against the chest-height barrier. "I'll throw myself off this roof next to make you come back."
Athira planted her elbows on the barrier and with fingers tugging at her hair, stared back into the apartment block, trying to make out any hint of detail inside the penultimate floor through the tinted windows. "What if this is my only chance to find the Wardens?"
"We call a press conference where you announce yourself as the Herald, and I'm sure they'll find you." Zoe wrapped an arm around Athira's shoulder and squeezed. "I'll even come with you — there's no way they ignore the Herald and a Spectrum promising a battle to the death."
Athira pressed her hands against her face and forced herself to take a breath, to shove down the guilt that was demanding she throw herself at the problem until one of them broke, and step away from the edge.
"Squeeze me any tighter and we might end up ahead of schedule on that death battle," said Athira as Zoe finally released her. "Did you still want to head to Elite HQ and occupy Discord's office chair until he finds an answer about Zac?"
"I don't know." Zoe sighed, a frown creasing her face. "I'm starting to think you're onto something about this Wardens inside the Elites thing, but they're dedicated to stopping Rathe, right? So, if they're holding Zac, maybe there's a reason, like they're protecting him — trying to keep him away from people like Reader."
Zoe gave Athira a frustrated smile that held every bit of the same, uneasy energy that coiled in her own stomach.
"I hate to take my own advice," said Zoe, "but I think we need more information before I do something I'll regret. Since the Surges have stopped, we've got time now. Right?"
Athira chewed on her lip, tapping a finger against the wing of the fire-bird statue still in her hand. "I guess."
Zoe's smile softened as she held out a hand. "C'mon. Let's head back to base and see if Kione's finished that sandwich yet."
*+*+*+*
A/N - Spoiler, Kione has not finished that sandwich.
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