always and forever is forever young
your shadow on the pavement, the dark side of the sun

Mallos felt a flicker of uncertainty as Aura slammed the door shut behind them, breathing heavily. Most of her vibrant, red hair had fallen out of its ponytail, although the linen thread she used to tie it back was clinging on grimly. Her sharp blue eyes were wild and avoiding him.

“At least now he won't get in the way,” Mallos suggested.

Aura leant back against the door and exhaled slowly, visibly trying to calm herself down. She lifted her small, dainty hands to her head and gripped her hair, causing the thread to tumble out and down her back. Mallos sensed now wasn't the time to point that out.

'Just... why?' She thought desperately into his mind. He shrugged.

“I didn't like him.”

“That's not a reason to kill someone, Mallos!” She bellowed back, taking him by surprise. Aura rarely spoke out loud, and this was the first time he hadn't heard her stutter when she did. He stood and waited quietly, the discomfort growing as the silence stretched, but Aura didn't say anything else or look at him for a few minutes. After what felt like the longest ever pause, she finally looked at him for the first time, her face awash with confusion. “I still don't understand why. Didn't you think at any point that it wasn't a good idea? Wasn't there a little voice in your head telling you to stop? Didn't it feel bad?”

Mallos shrugged again, but knew he couldn't lie. “No,” he replied honestly. The silence returned; unable to bear it, he added, “is that bad?”

“You don't have a conscience.” Aura answered numbly. “Not even a basic sense of right and wrong.” They stared at each other from across the small, dark space for a long moment. Mallos wasn't entirely sure what she was talking about, but he guessed it wasn't a good thing. “No,” she said finally. “No, it's not bad – not necessarily – you just... you can't do it for yourself, so you're going to have to rely on other people to tell you right from wrong. Did it make you feel better, killing him?”

He thought about that for a moment. “No,” was the genuine response.

“Alright, good,” Aura looked encouraged; she'd calmed down and even managed a small smile. “Hang on to that. Killing is wrong, and it doesn't make you feel better, so there's no reason to do it.”

“What if it did make me feel better?”

“No,” she insisted. “Killing people is absolutely, unconditionally, always wrong. Don't do it ever again.” Mallos shifted uncomfortably and nodded mutely. Aura gazed at him with an odd expression – sympathy? Pity? “Mallos, I'm going to give you the best piece of advice you're ever going to get,” she took him by the shoulders and looked him firmly in the eye. “Whatever you do, for the rest of your life, surround yourself with good people.”


Mallos jerked back into the present, his hands still raised where they had been holding onto his best friend's wrists. Memories of the last seven thousand or so years came crashing rudely back and he relived, for the hundredth time, Aura's death. He closed his eyes, breathing as hard as Aura had done in his vision.

No, not a vision. The sensations in these existences were so genuine that he couldn't tell which one was the real world. The only thing he could do was live each reality as if it was the only one, and hope that time would make the truth become clear.

It was the most frustrating, humiliating, impossible situation.

Mallos resisted hitting the wall, but it took a lot of effort. He gazed around him, trying to decide which he hated more: the cold, grey, stone walls; the beige sheets over the low, hard mattress on the cheap wooden bed; the tapestry one of the nurses had hung up to try and cheer the place; or the gloomy paraffin lamp which swung and creaked eerily whenever he walked around. Since he'd awoken from his three-month coma following his tangle with Therait, Mallos had been kept under guard in this room because of his newfound inability to tell fantasy from reality. Also probably because he tried to throw himself out of the window a couple of times while having 'episodes' and the nurses thought he was a danger to himself.

The nurses might, but the guards didn't. Deciding he couldn't take another minute in this hell-hole, he kicked open the door and was relieved to find two of the younger guards he'd already made a point of being friendly to. Fortunately, these ones hadn't seen him when he – wasn't himself. It took him about ten minutes to talk them around and then he was free, jogging down the corridor away from the infirmary with their dire warnings to stick to the servants' routes ringing in his ears.

“Escaping again, Mallos?” One of the chamber maids winked as she made to pass him. He smiled and she paused, smiling back.

“That's a new colour eye shadow for you, isn't it?” He observed, making her blush. “I like it. Which way is the back entrance?”

“Past the kitchen. Or just go straight and head for the main hall if you want – there's no one around, everyone's at dinner.” She winked again. “Catch you later.”

Excellent news. Preferring not to try and negotiate the complex labyrinth of corridors to the kitchen, Mallos continued straight as advised and presently found a staircase which led down to the blissfully empty main entrance hall. The sound of voices, clattering cutlery and goblets thunking onto the table filled the entrance hall from the dining hall to the right, which was visible through the archways. All he had to do was keep quiet and stick to the shadows. He was half-way through and just beginning to taste freedom when something caught his eye: two misshapen forms, crouched down by one of the archways. A large cat – a familiar, presumably – and... was that a child? Mallos crept forward a little, keeping one eye on the dining nobles, and realised it was a young girl, thin and dressed in rags. The feline was nudging her gently.

He paused, but only for a moment. Making a snap decision, Mallos ducked out of the shadows and made straight for the unlikely pair, who stopped in the tracks at the sound of oncoming footsteps. As he got closer, he realised it wasn't a pair but a trio: cowering by the girl's feet was a little grey dog. Mallos was reminded forcibly of his grandson, Tristan.

“Hey,” he crouched down to her level and spoke softly, glancing briefly over at the dining hall to check that they hadn't been seen. “Do you want something to eat?”


i can feel you in the silence saying, “let forever be,
love, and only love, will set you free.”