MirrorWorld

“Understanding is fear’s—and hatred’s—most powerful adversary … and it must be accepted willingly, not forced.” The tendrils spread open, awaiting me.

I’m having trouble accepting that this ancient enemy of humanity is being genuine. The Dread are monsters, in every sense of the word, horrible, ugly creatures that have plagued mankind from the shadows. But we are not much different in their eyes.

“And if I don’t?” I ask.

“You will lack the determination to do what you must, and both of our worlds will burn.”

“You’ll do it, won’t you?” I ask. “Nuke the world?”

I feel the yes more than hear it. “You have felt the network that connects us all,” the matriarch says. “You have seen what happens when a colony loses its matriarch.”

I remember it clearly. All of the Dread connected to it die.

“I am the oldest of the matriarchs. Every colony, as you call them, is connected to me. If my life ends before another ascends…”

“Your world ends.”

“I do not want to destroy your world, but … I will.”

“I get it,” I say. “Mutually assured destruction.” It’s the stalemate that has prevented World War III on multiple occasions. As bad as disagreements and hatred can be, no one wants to end all life on the planet. But the only way that works, is if both sides are actually willing to do it. If the matriarch feels its life—and all the Dread connected to it—is ending, it will, in turn, end humanity.

“I know it doesn’t change anything,” I say, “but I’m sorry. For what I did. For the colony I—”

“These are the harsh realities of the world we share. Conflict. Death. War. We will move beyond them eventually, but for now we must both accept what has happened and move forward.”

“Forgiveness,” I say.

“Yes.”

I see my son. My parents and Hugh. I remember the way they made me feel, and the emptiness their departures left in my soul. But the matriarch shares this pain and more. Without either of us speaking a word, a weight lifts away.

“It is done,” the matriarch says.

I glance at Maya. She’s just watching, still lucid, almost hopeful. She’s still gaunt and weak, but the look in her eyes … I see clarity.

“Are you okay?” I ask her.

She looks a little unsure, which, given her surroundings is understandable. “Better, I think.”

“Do you remember?” I ask. I don’t need to specify what I’m asking about. She knows. The sadness in her eyes says so.

“The memory is different now,” she says. “Distant. Not me.”

“It wasn’t you.” Maya’s body might have thrust the glass downward, but she wasn’t in control of it.

“I’m sorry I was lost,” she says.

“We both were,” I reply. While the Dread took her mind, Lyons took mine. Had both sides just left us alone, we wouldn’t be here right now. I would have stopped Lyons before it got this far. “But we’re back now, and I’m going to finish this, okay?”

She nods.

“I love you,” I say, and look forward as tendrils wrap around my face. I’ve stepped into them before fully realizing I wanted to.

The past slams into my mind, but it’s only vaguely recognizable, and slipping through my thoughts so fast that I can’t get a clear image of any one moment. It’s like all this information is pouring through a mental colander, leaving a residue and the occasional chunk of knowledge. A picture begins to form, and then a narrative.