Addiction. It is a strange word, but so many feelings and memories are wrapped up in it. When one knows another is addicted, they rarely understand. People cry out, "Why don't you stop? Separate yourself from it! Turn away and never look back!"
But they do not know what they are saying. The person can't stop. That is, they can, but it is very hard and often pain-inducing. But eventually, the feeling, the need, goes away. Eventually, the addiction fades away.
Not so for magic. Not so for Evinan's addiction.
As Empress Evinan walked across the stone floor, guards on either side of her, Evinan knew she couldn't tremble or let down the mask that covered her vulnerability. She hated it, hated the fact that she could be forced to do something simply by being next to it. It. It has a name. Klithyia. Magic. Whatever they chose to call it, Evinan hated it. But she hated the biccas even more, for they were the ones who exposed it to her.
She tried to push it aside, the feeling. The need. She tried to think of the points she wanted to make during the meeting, and the responses she might need to use. When this failed, she resorted to the sound her feet made upon the floor, but soon felt her mind wandering to that which she escaped from, all those years ago. Don't freak out this time, not even on the inside. Remember: they are all idiots. You have to be the sane one.
When they reached the massive spherical building, two guards came forth and thrust the doors open for the empress, bowing as she walked in. It was a room she knew extremely well, from the sun-bleached walls to the scrubbed floors, and she strode to the raised platform she was to sit on while the eight governors sat cross-legged in a semi-circle around her.
She loved that platform, for it reminded her of less stressful times. Times when she was very young, and her father would lift her up to the top, and she would laughingly make jokes about the governors. Even now Evinan smiled, remembering how she would make fun of the carved faces etched into the sides. It was only about three or four feet high, and was made of ores found deep within the ground. In it was carved the faces of the great Luriels, the first two that were believed to have existed. The governors were already beginning to devour the bowls of food around the base of the pedestal, but all stopped when they saw the Empress.
Evinan sighed internally, wishing things were the way they used to be. She began the ceremonial ritual by raising her thin arms and pressing her fingers together, and the eight governors responded by raising their left hand and smacking it against their chest, lips pursed. Evinan then bowed deeply before mounting her platform, sitting with her knees spread out on either side of her and the bottom of her feet pressed together; a very uncomfortable position, but a necessary one. Finally, the Empress took the heavy tümca off her shaven head, and the eight governors around her did the same.
"We begin the rendezvous now, governors. Let him or her who wish to speak do so, and do so freely. The room is sealed and safe, and no punishment can be dealt to one who signs against me," she signed, arms raised so that all the governors could clearly see her words. "We have much to discuss. If all agree, we will begin with the fact that our present situation may cause interest from other kingdoms. For example, knowing we are weak may cause the power-hungry Kryptzaline to attack us, as Mfuschwizaat may also do. I would also like to note that the biccas have relocated their bases, and they are now closer to the border. I think the best thing to do is... well, I do not rightly know. Any suggestions?"
"That sounds about right," a governor, a woman named Clauka, signed, "The governors are worried about the lives of their people, and the Empress is worried about her throne. It's a classic, isn't it?"
Oh no. Not this again. "I am sorry, governor, but I am not worried about my throne so much as I am fearful for my people dying at the hands of others. Internal problems weaken the empire, and then an outside source destroys it. Isn't that how it works?"
"What I think she is trying to say," another governor signed, "is that perhaps we should focus on what it happening rather than what may happen in the future."
"Yes," a third added. "Empress, as you know, your people are starving. Our people are starving. Even the governor of the richest sector would agree he has seen a difference in the nobles that live there. We are not human. We cannot continue to live this way. Already Luriels are beginning to lose their minds. I have not witnessed it, but I know that at least one of us has seen a Luriel... he saw one..."
All eyes turned towards Hurik, who jumped at the sudden attention. A woman placed her hand on his shoulder. "Go on, Hurik. Tell the empress what you told us."
He nodded, raising his hands from the table and turning towards Evinan. His breath was very ragged, but he signed, "My Empress, you do not understand our dilemma. You cannot. Everyday we hear the stories. The rumors. I myself watched— I watched a man devour his wife. His children, they were in the room while it happened. I heard their terrified screams as he— as the Luriel— broke into his beloved's body and just... and gnawed on her bones. I watched the blood spill from his mouth, but he didn't care. He didn't even notice. I witnessed it. I watched the whole thing. He just sat there, leaning over her, eating. And then he stopped. He dropped her body, crying out. He cradled her mottled face, crying. I thought he was going to die. I really did. Of grief, like, like in the stories. But he didn't. He looked up to where his children still huddled, and they screamed again. Screamed. I can't describe the sound. He stood up, still covered in blood and flesh and... and whatever else is in a body. He tried to apologize to his children, but they just ran away from him. I wanted to follow, I wanted to help, but I couldn't move."
Hurik was shaking, and he rubbed his fingers over his scalp before continuing.
"Do you know what that is like, Empress? Do you? I was chosen by the people to protect and stand up for the people of Alanluriel. But I can't. We are all helpless. The people come to me, and they ask me questions. They've begged me to help. They grab onto me, pleading to give out rations I don't have. And I just look into their eyes, thinking of what they are to become. I think of that man, how he had ruthlessly eaten his wife. How he didn't even realize who or what he was eating. For that brief period of time, she was nothing more to him than an animal. A source of nourishment."
"You hear of these things, Empress, but you never witness them. We've heard the cries. Seen the blood. The bodies. Things you can imagine, but have never truly experienced. Cannibalism is still rare, but it is spreading. Quickly. We must do something."
Silence. The governors all looked to Evinan, who simply sat there. She didn't cry, or tremble, or show any emotion at all. I must remain strong. It is the only way they will continue to look up to me. Do not cry. I haven't cried in twenty years, and I am not going to do so now.
A governor stared into Evinan's unmoving eyes, and signed, "The only one stopping us from taking action is you, Empress. We try to fix things, and you shove us down. We tried to barter with Mfuschwizaat, and you denied us passage."
Evinan's eyes flared. "I already told you, getting food from Mfuschwizaat will not solve our problem, but merely put us into debt. How are we expected to pay them back? That country wouldn't even accept Luriel slaves, for the amount of money spent on feeding them would be worth more than they are worth. What were you going to give them? Desert land? Poetry? Literature? What?"
"You could have at least allowed us to send an ambassador," a governor, Clauka's sister, signed.
"And let a bordering kingdom know we are about to go extinct? Give them all the knowledge they need to start a war and get rid of us even faster?" Evinan signed, teeth bared and eyes fully dilated.
"Or what about when we tried to find the source of the lack of food? You pushed us down then too!"
"The source. What source? Dumping our waste in the streets causes illness and rodents, but throwing it into the ocean poisons the fish. But now the fish are poisoned and avoid our section of land, and throwing it out somewhere else won't fix anything. We already knew that. What other source? The drought? How is that to be fixed? I can do many things, but I can't make it rain. The Creators know I would if I could. And I can't force the daystar to stop shining on us so brightly, nor can I make the soil fertile."
There was a pause in the room. Evinan could practically feel the accusatory stares as they tried to drown her. Luckily, Evinan was a good swimmer, and she tried to stare down each of the governors as well.
Eventually, a governor named Thaven signed, "Empress, we do not mean to anger you. We are upset and angry ourselves. We see life through a different lens than you. We were taught to feel, and you were taught to think. It's supposed to work. This, our government system, has always worked in the past. We need to fall back on what this empire represents."
Clauka responded to Thaven, signing, "Did it? Has it always worked? Think back to history. Think back to the empresses and emperors before her. How many times did it work out this way? The governors plead and try to work things out, and the tyrant above them pushes and pushes until a revolt forms, ousts the ruler, and the governors take over as they should. History teaches us everything we need to know."
Hurik turned towards his fellow governor. "Let us not repeat history then."
Clauka ignored Hurik, and signed, "You do know, Empress, that the people of Alanluriel are beginning to hate you? They have distrusted you for years, but now, as they grow desperate, they have turned on you. So if you value your title, you will lace those fingers together and not say a word against us from now on. And you will not throw a little temper tantrum when we tell you the big news."
"What news?"
Silence. What is going on?
At this, the eight governors looked to each other. Finally, after a pause, one of them began to sign, "Empress, we have something we need to discuss. It is good you decided to meet, for otherwise we would have called for said council. The governors and I have talked, and we believe it may be wise to consult the biccas."
Evinan's yellow eyes widened, and she sat as if in shock. Wait, what?!
"Let- let me explain. They have reached out to us. They understand that we are suffering and in need of immediate help. They have developed magic! Magic! Magic to heal the wounded, give us water and crops and happiness again! Though, of course, they do not call it magic. They call it a scientific development, although even they admit it has no grounds in science. The biccas say it is a force, more than anything, but not magic. I call it magic!"
But wait, I forbid them passage. Didn't I? Or was that just a dream?
"We are not saying, Empress, that we are walking into their open arms. We regard them warily and with your warnings in mind. We were just wondering if perhaps you would give us your blessing to continue research in this area. It is quite possible they are giving us what we need to survive," a young girl signed, the governor of the middle sector.
"But you must not forget," a governor signed, "that even without your blessing, we have both the duty and the right to forego your accusations of their crimes until you tell us why you distrust them so much."
Yet Evinan was not listening. She did not respond to what they signed, merely looked ahead. After all the years of warning, all the hidden threats, they are... they are going to do it. I can't let them. I can't! But how? The second I try, I'll go back to my old ways!
"Come here, girl."
"Yes, sir."
"Do you see what is on the table? Do you know what that is?"
"Yes. Why does it smell so bad?"
"You get used to it after awhile. You begin to welcome the smell, because it means that something amazing is going to happen to it."
"I don't think so, sir."
He laughs. Why does he laugh? What is funny about the thing on the table? It smells so bad.
"Come closer, darling. I want you to-"
"Empress Evinan? Hello? Are you alright?" Clauka's sister was talking, physically talking. Talking like the man did that day...
"What? Yes, yes, quite good. I am well, though I must be leaving in a minute. I am aware that you governors can overrule me, and the blessing is merely a formality. But know this: you will never gain my blessing in this respect, and, if you do go through with it, I expect abounding apologizes when it fails miserably. But I must go. I must. There is no way around it."
She scrambled off the platform, muttering to herself. She grabbed the tumca beside her, and, without putting it on, opened the doors and ran as fast as her stiff legs would take her. Evinan was blinded, but she continued to run. Now she could feel it pressing all around her. Magic. It was squeezing her, compressing her to the smallest she could be, yet she kept running. She tried to run away from the desperation, no, the need, for klithyia, as the biccas called it, but couldn't. She merely met more of the engulfing fumes, filling her and leaving her breathless. It was definitely stronger than it had been the day before. Evinan ran into her own little dome, the dome she slept in, and slammed the door behind her. She could still feel it; she could feel it pulling on her memory, begging to pull her into a flashback.
"No! No! You will not triumph! I. Will. Not. Let. You!" She cried out, shaking her head furiously. Hurik's story. The accusations. How many others believe such lies? The Empress threw aside her tümca and began to cradle her head, thinking repeatedly, "No. Not again. You resisted it once; you can do it again. Come now, it's not so bad, is it?"
But the forces around her were too strong, and she was pulled back to her childhood. That poor ten-year-old girl, too frightened and mystified to refuse anything that was asked of her. Even... even when...
"Come here, girl."