Chapter 24 - Invisible

Igorus stood over the dead body of the Dominion, sprawled out in a mockery of angelic repose. Officer Gavles and two other policemen flanked him, the four of them gathered at the crime scene. Red tape stretched across every side, barring entry to anyone without proper clearance. Low conversations murmured between officers and investigators, speculation passing from one to another.

Igorus' eyes drifted around, searching for some whisper, some stray word that might lend context to the grim news he had just received. But nothing revealed itself. He drew a long breath and turned his gaze back to the corpse.

"Have you found anything about his motive?" His voice was flat, almost mechanical.

"It isn't clear yet what was in this Dominion's mind," one of the policemen replied. "The research division is examining his brain, searching for clues that might explain the strange behavior that led to this."

Igorus' eyes fixed on the yawning wound at the front of the corpse's skull, the brain removed for study.

"This is the first time anything like this has happened," Officer Gavles muttered.

"When can we expect results?" Igorus asked.

"Most likely in a few hours, or by tomorrow at the latest," said the policeman.

"I see," Igorus answered quietly.

"You can take the day off, General," said Officer Gavles, his words carrying a touch of compassion. "You've been through a very difficult time."

"Thank you, Officer Gavles, but that won't be necessary. We are accustomed to the stench of death. Now, if you'll excuse me," said Igorus as he turned to leave the scene.

The policemen nodded in farewell, while Officer Gavles lingered, watching the General walk away with a worried expression etched into his face.

The day before, within the gate of Kindu Skorona...

Skorona fixed Igorus with an unblinking, intimidating stare, his crimson eyes sharp as blades after the young man dared utter the word "Uamanangura". Igorus shifted uneasily, knowing full well that in that moment he was powerless, prey caught in the gaze of a superior intellect.

Then, without warning, Skorona lifted a goblet of wine at his feet, drank deep, and shook his head and curls like a hound fresh from the river. Igorus blinked, baffled by the sudden display.

"Wait!" cried Skorona, his tone lurching into a new register entirely. "A revelation strikes me! Thou wishest to meet Alfons unseen, dost thou not?"

"Y-yes... if such a thing were possible," Igorus admitted, still uncertain.

"Heheheh! Then fortune hath delivered thee to the proper Kindu!" Skorona declared with a grand sweep of his hand. "Only let me drink another cup. This vintage hath me ensnared most wickedly. Ah, how I pine for the elves of yore, those masters of the vine! Alas, no more do they walk to fashion such nectar. There may be some, aye, but none who could craft wine of this divine caliber. Alfons oft visited me here, bearing their perfect vintages... ahhh, how I miss those golden days." His voice dipped into melancholy, though Igorus remained unmoved.

"Um... you were about to explain," Igorus prompted gently.

With a clap of his hands, Skorona conjured a table laden with bottles and glasses, an endless parade of spirits spread before Igorus. The General recoiled a step.

"Now then! Thou shalt drink from this chalice. Behold, the Chameleon Whiskey!" Skorona announced with drunken flourish.

"Chameleon whiskey? I've never heard of such a thing," Igorus said.

"A delicacy of the southern hybrids!" Skorona grinned, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "The name of their kingdom escapes me, but in brief, it is brewed from the... ehm, the... from the secretions of lizard hybrids, more precisely the chameleons. Gods preserve us, I pray they be only secretions." He scratched his head sheepishly.

Igorus' eyes widened in disgust, his face betraying the revulsion he tried to stifle.

"Best not plague thy mind with such trifles. Drink! For the vision matters, not the means. These other cups are for me," Skorona said, plunging his face into another glass.

"I suppose I have no choice," muttered Igorus, lifting the glass.

"Ha! Down it in a single draught, boy! Thus lies its power. Sip not, but drown!" Skorona hiccupped mid-speech. "Oh, curse it all, who even speaks of me anymore? All who knew me are long in the grave. To hell with it then!"

Igorus obeyed, tilting the entire cup back. The liquid hit him like fire, so harsh and sudden he staggered, head swimming, his senses blurring and multiplying.

"HAHAHAHA! Filthy wretch!" Skorona roared, clapping his hands. "It strikes thee faster than I dreamt!"

"Wha—what's happening?" Igorus gasped, reeling as his vision split into triples. His balance abandoned him.

"Behold thyself, bastard!" Skorona cried, thrusting a mirror before his face.

"...Why can't I see anything?" Igorus demanded, blinking at the empty glass.

"Because thou art invisible, thou fool! That is the gift of the Chameleon's draught. Aye, it cloaks thee for fifteen minutes or so, with every goblet quaffed!" Skorona slurred, hiccupping again, his words tumbling like loose jewels from an overturned chest.

"This is... impressive. But can others still sense my presence?" Igorus asked.

"Presence? What presence, thou gull? Not even thy wife would spy thee with this cloak. Ahhh—my wife! My sweet, departed star" Skorona suddenly broke into sobs, his face twisting as he wept openly.

"Oh, uh... are you all right?" Igorus asked, confused.

Skorona wiped his streaming nose with the back of his sleeve, sniffled, and muttered, "Begone now, I would drink alone. Yet hark! When thou arrivest yonder, seek a hedgehog-looking hybrid named Riko. That prick owes me two shots of tequila. Though... he's likely rotting in the grave by now."

Without warning, Skorona's gaze hardened, serious, sharp, a predator's focus. Igorus faltered before the sudden shift.

"This potion," Skorona intoned, his voice dropping into dark lyric, "is more than a veil. It unbars barriers. Aye, were not the barriers thy prison? Why wait eight weary years for what can be shattered now? And best of all, thou need'st not whisper the old words. This draught speaks for thee." He smiled, sly and radiant.

"Really?" Igorus breathed, astonished.

"Why thinkest Alfons strutted hither whenever whimsy struck? I tell thee, this brew is not mere invisibility, it is existence undone! It warps the very eye of reality. Neither flesh nor spirit shall men perceive. Thou art thrust into a solipsist's trance, where naught remains but thee alone. A lonely empire, a kingdom of one. As the drink bends thy perception, so too it bends the world: a realm where none but thou exist. And thus, how can barriers, or Ladnoria itself, sense aught that is not there?" Skorona drank again, wiping wine from his lips with theatrical flourish.

"Something that does not exist..." Igorus murmured under his breath.

"Picture it thus!" Skorona bellowed, rising as though upon a stage. "Thou art in one chamber, whilst wife and child dwell in another. Without sight, without sound, without sense of their presence, canst thou say they exist at all? So this draught doth keep thee, forever in that limbo. But..." his tone dropped, heavy with warning, "shouldst thou quaff too greedily, I bear ill tidings, friend."

Igorus leaned closer, listening intently.

"For if thou drinkest beyond measure, never again shalt thou tell thine own dream from the world that bore thee. Thou wilt no longer feel the press of others, nor the weight of life as it ought to be felt. In plain words..." Skorona's eyes glittered, solemn, "...thou wilt cease to exist."

The words Kindu Skorona had spoken lingered deep in Igorus' mind as he left the crime scene. He passed through the door of the assembly where the incident had taken place.

"Atbara and Aldes weren't the culprits, eh? Naturally, suspicion first falls on them, since they're the only ones capable of such things," said Marshal Mildura, leaning against the wall beside the doorway.

"You know why I flew beyond Ladnoria?" Igorus asked, staring straight ahead without turning toward the marshal.

"Do you know why we divine beings are confined to this island? Why the barriers exist? You think they keep us safe from one another, but no, they keep the mortals safe from us. Were we to live among the rest of the world, it would be destroyed within days, perhaps hours. The very soil of this island is beyond reason, thousands of times more resilient than the earth of the mortals' continent. That is why it is called the Divine Isle. I only hope you haven't caused too much damage out there," Mildura said, his gaze fixed forward, never meeting Igorus' eyes.

"I used not even five percent of my power, so spare yourself the worry. I've already done enough damage within myself. Not even the gods could mend that wound," Igorus answered in a low tone.

"How ironic. We are meant to guide the mortals on their path, yet in the end, we cannot guide even ourselves. We kill, we wound, we offend, we sin, as if we were no different from those who envy us every day. Tell me, Igorus... what does it mean to be a god?" Mildura asked.

Igorus stood silently before the door, refusing to answer.

"Some say we are the mightiest beings in existence, bearing responsibilities mortals cannot even fathom. Others claim gods are one with nature and the universe. Still others believe we are but philosophical constructs, figments dreamed by those who long for a better life. Gods... are nothing more than a failure, Igorus. A successful failure. We are the strongest, the wisest, the most just, the closest creatures to the notion of perfection. But that is a lie. We are only cursed," Mildura said, plucking grapes from a bunch and eating them.

"We are experiments of endless paradoxes. Merely the successful champions of one experiment," Igorus murmured.

"Of a worthless experiment, I'd say," Mildura replied.

"Worthless..." Igorus whispered to himself.

"The highest rank in the food chain. I eat this grape. The deer eats the grape. The wolf eats the deer. Man eats the wolf. And man is consumed by our power. It is an endless cycle that must always remain unbroken. If even one link rebels, the entire chain collapses," said the marshal, popping another grape into his mouth.

Igorus glanced at the grapes in Mildura's hand. Purple globes, polished and gleaming.

"So you eat fruit to remind yourself of the other members of the chain?" Igorus asked.

"First of all, I don't enjoy eating mortals. I don't know about you, but my pride stings at the thought. Secondly, fruit is delicious. You're missing out," Mildura replied between bites.

"Forgive me, but it's been a long day. I'll head home. Gavles was right. I need some rest," Igorus said, beginning to walk away from the marshal.

Mildura finished the last of the bunch, watching the general's retreating figure.

"I have a feeling something dreadful lurks even in the angels' ranks," he muttered, turningatbar back toward the scene. His eyes lingered on the corpse...