A Call

[Idris]

He could't help the wide grin that showed his white teeth, surprised at the unexpected warmth suffusing his chest. He knew his sister loved him. That was something he could never doubt. Still, to hear her say it...he was touched.

Smiling, he joked to hide the strong emotion "Never?" The words were punctuated by a loud whistle as the train came to a stop. He grabbed his bag- not hers. She didn't like to be coddled.- and followed her out into the day light. The sun was bright overhead, the air hot- the car had been air-conditioned- and somewhat muggy, this time of year. They were 185 km from the Red Sea, though he was not sure if that had anything to do with it.

His education was fairly limited, given his being raised Qdus. It was something he regretted. Though which of those two things it was, was anyone's guess- including himself.

They hailed a ride and headed for the Chapel of the Tablet.The peace from the trainride and his talk with Sesuna leeched away as they approached the monastery. His eyes were not drawn like metal shavings to a lodestone to the structure, though. No, instead it was one of the outlying buildings, a single one in particular. His eyes stared past the black robed men and women walking the grounds.

There she stood, waiting. She was tiny, black habit covering her so that only her dark brown face showed. They exited the car, but he just stood there, bag in hand, staring at her from 10 or 15 meters away. His sister was next to him, head at his shoulders, and his hand instinctively reached for hers, squeezing briefly before release. He had never done that before, needed a touch to give him strength.

After a moment, he walked forward, and the woman seemed to shrink even as she grew closer. She peered up at him, black eyes deep and mysterious, though not without a twinkle in them. Her tattoos, three vertical lines dyed dark green, as was her lower lip, gave her tribe, Tigre. His family's was Blien and their mother had worn hers proudly.

Her voice cracked as she spoke. "Welcome home Idris, my son." She looked at his sister. "And you my daughter. You both have done well. Your vision was true, it seemed." Her lip curved into a knowing smile. "How does it feel to know you both have been marked as chosen."

Did she know how her words would cut him to his heart? The burden of prophecy crashed on him, bearing him down to the red clay as he dropped to his knees, head down, hands clawing at the earth. It was too much. Too much.

[Sesuna]

“Nope.” Sesuna stood to gather her bag when the train lurched to a standstill, and led the way out into the sun. She was quiet for most of the rest of the journey, more out of consideration for the depth of his mood than any desire not to talk. They had left Anbessa on the train, but she knew he needed time to don the habits of Idris.

Outside the car, her expression tightened when he squeezed her hand. It did not seem a particularly comforting omen, but there was precious little she could do to sooth his anxiety beyond squeeze back. She did not like being here either.

A brief incline of her head offered a greeting as they were met, but her usual jovial tongue was measured instead with silence. They all knew it was not Sesuna for whom the summons really came, just that she was rarely far from her brother’s shadow. The words plummeted like the weight of their father’s anvil. When Bessie fell she felt her chest cleave.

She squatted down beside him. One hand reached calmly for the fingers clawing up the dust to stop their plight. Her sleeves were tugged back by the heat. He would see the mark, and she meant him to. Together. They were in this together, no matter that his was the greater burden. She’d given up everything too when the power burned her up with fever and left her changed. This was just another mountain.

Meanwhile her chin tilted to regard the woman. Mother would be mortified with disrespect, but her expression was hard anyway. It did not gladden her to see Anbessa this way.

[Idris]

The quiet felt like a blanket. He felt Sesuna kneel down, the symbol emblazoned on her forearm displayed to his lowered eyes.

He remembered the night she got it. The fear she felt. The courage she had, despite. The complete trust in him. The knowledge she would always be a support to him. The teary eyes as she asked if she had to kill now, too.

The mountain was heavy. And yet, that simple act seemed to lighten the load enough. Just knowing he wasn't alone, didn't have to be Idris. He could stay Anbessa.

He raised his head, fists clenched, the power flooding him to bursting. He felt connected to the universe itself, felt the energy coursing through his veins. Fist pushed up from the ground, he stood, the weight on his shoulders there, standing erect. He glanced at his sister, face stoney and defiant. And now, they stood side by side, looking down at the Negus, ignoring the men who watched them with anger or disapproval etched on their faces.

His voice was quiet but firm. "Why have we been summoned, Negus?"

The small women's eyes did not lose their humor. Standing there, looking up at both of them, she felt perfectly safe. And she was, he supposed. He was not a man to strike an old woman down. She raised an eyebrow as she considered their faces, but said nothing about it.

"Why the Urim, of course, my son. Your vision has been fulfilled. But you are the Heart of the Atharim. Your work is not done."

He looked at her for a moment, then at his sister. Reluctantly, he nodded. Still, he took his sister's hand. He would do this alone no longer.

[Sesuna]

He pulled back into himself, as she knew he would. The cracks worried her though, driven so deep he was unlikely to come out of this unscathed. It made her feel helpless, and worried, but she did not want to share those emotions. The stone of his expression reminded her of their father then: determined to a cause, wedded to it by necessity not choice. She hated that but there was no alternative, so she stood alongside, trying to feel like a sister rather than a jailer. Truthfully they were both prisoners, choice an illusion. But she would make it count anyway.

The Negus was unphased. Probably that was a good thing. She could feel Anbessa’s tension, but let her own flood free. She had accepted worse when she took the shegurah in her palm and made the oaths, and for their mother’s legacy she would do whatever was asked. And for Bessie’s sake.

The words were not unexpected. Anbessa’s anxiety the whole journey betrayed his expectation even if he hadn’t truly voiced the concerns. Her eyes closed anyhow, brief as a heartbeat. A moment to steel herself. And then she followed.

[Idris]

Anbessa followed into the Negus' office, Sessie at his side. The room was spare and simple. A couple of chairs on one side of a desk, a terminal and keyboard and holo display. He wondered what she used it for. Likely her job taking care of the monastery, ordering supplies they did not grow or make themselves.

Then again, she could be like his sister, able to ferret out facts and truth from the tangled web that was the digital world. It could be.

She went to her desk and opened a drawer, fishing out the Urim. He was amused that something so holy and precious would be stored along with pens and pencils and paperclips. After millennia of being hidden inside the Ark, it somehow seemed...sacrilegious. But she was the Negus, not him.

She bid them to sit even as she eased into her own chair. She had aged since he'd seen her. The sun and wind were not kind.

The men had not followed, for which he was glad. He was not comfortable with an audience. His family was one thing. Strangers, another.

She held up the yellow gem and gave it to him. He hesitated before leaning over to take it. The last time...the last time it had not been pleasant. Then again, he hadn't known what to expect. He turned it over in his hand. It felt heavy, like a piece of lead, though it looked like glass. Like glass but not glass. It did not seem to bend light despite its curved shape. There were no bubbles despite its age. Smooth as steel and cool to the touch.

Her thin voice cut the quiet. "The world changes. The g'brim walk the earth. You know this. But what we have known here is but a shadow to what is seen in other lands." She touched a key and the holo came up. Video feeds.

He stared in shock at what he saw. Battles. Attacks in a marketplace. The man who called himself the Ascendancy, standing over a sea of people, a massive statue melting and reshaping into an arch. He had seen that last before. Sessie had shown it.

But in context, it took on ominous overtones. Especially given the attack and his recovery later. A part of him had ignored it all. They had their work with Al Janyar and those warlords who thought to capitalize on the chaos.

But now...

"There is more, my son. The Romans have fractured. Their leader, the Regus, has died. They have splintered, though I am told a new Regus has been chosen." Before could speak, she went on. "And then there is this." Words came up on the display, descriptions of the Ball the Ascendancy held. The otherworldly attack. Surreptitiously recorded videos and pictures of phantom creatures- ijiraq, he suspected- attacking. G'brim fighting, walls melting.

"Moscow stands at the center of it all. Ijiraq and channelers. And a host more creatures. All of the Atharim should be united against the enemies of mankind." He looked at her sharply. She did not mean channelers as a whole, did she? He suspected not, though events such as these could cause a change of heart.

He pulled the power into himself, listening for anything to indicate danger outside. Foolish, perhaps. But Sessie was here. He would never let her come to harm.

Mena smiled knowingly and raised an eyebrow as she shook her head. "Be at ease Idris. Moscow stands at the center and so there the Heart must go." She nodded at the Urim. It occurred to him to ask about the Thummim? Urim and Thummim, almost always spoken of in pairs, with maybe a single handful of exceptions.

"But I am not God. I am not the Heart of the Atharim. You must see for yourself."

His heart raced as the turned over the disk with the bulging center. He hesitated and looked at his sister, considering, eyebrows raised in question.