vibration forms the fabric of reality itself. When properly formed and sculpted, certain metals can be made to resonate in such a way that they can bend reality itself. But perhaps you've always suspected that."
Seth made a harsh sound under his breath. "Is that what you tell these people? Part of your myth?"
"Such explanations are unnecessary. Humans revere metal. They cover their temples and their churches with it. They wear it as ornaments of power. They frequently place its value higher than human life. They do this for a reason, though they may only innately realize it. Their knowledge of the universe is instinctual. They sense elements of truth, but have no genuine understanding, no ability to integrate what they feel with the rudimentary technology they have developed. They work to battle, rather than to compose, with superior forces."
Seth narrowed his gaze. "Who are you?"
"A question with too many answers," the Necromancer replied smoothly, his gaze sliding to where Miranda sat on the opposite stage. "And none of them will help you. We both know that you did not come here for me."
Seth looked at the woman seated on the throne, her posture held perfectly erect, her slender hands clasping the armrests. She gazed back at him without recognition, the exotic paint around her eyes creating a dark and beautiful mask.
"What did you do to her?" he asked harshly.
"It was for her own protection. She cannot accept what she has become."
Seth glared at him. "Meaning what?"
The Necromancer sat back in his chair and signaled one of the servers, a woman dressed in a white wig and a pink satin corset. She approached swiftly and placed two silver goblets on the table. Lifting an ornate decanter, she poured a generous amount of red wine into each cup.
The Necromancer raised one of the goblets after she finished, gesturing that Seth should do the same. "Indulge me in this one act of civility, and I will tell you everything you need to know about Miranda."
Seth watched him drink from the goblet. The Necromancer swallowed calmly, seeming to savor the taste of the wine. Then he waited for moment, cup in hand, saying nothing further.
Seth clenched his teeth. Raising his own goblet, he sipped a rich coppery mouthful, prepared to play along if it meant the man might incriminate himself as a kidnapper and torturer.
Satisfaction played in the Necromancer's gaze. He put down the wine, his pale gaze fixing on Miranda. "She came here as a soldier, trained by other soldiers. She understood nothing about herself, nothing about her desires or her fears, her power or her beauty. She had an empty life that she filled with endless missions to faraway places, the pursuit of justice at any cost. Like you, she knew nothing of her true destiny. She approached the Gate believing that it was a human contrivance, a ridiculous misconception given its complexity, but…"
He shrugged, as if it didn't matter. "It was not difficult to draw her away from her protection. It was considerably more difficult to rip away the lies and reveal the fire and truth of the woman, to expose her soul from behind the meaningless societal programming. Her passage was painful, but she merged with the Gate successfully, as I knew she would. She became a goddess."
"Jesus," Seth muttered, working hard to hide his reaction to the veiled description of torture.
"She has immense power, the kind that rarely manifests itself in human form. That is the problem, a problem that only you can help her with."
Seth shook his head, unable to reply to that. He rubbed his hand once across his forehead, frowning as his fingers came away moist. He was sweating, his pulse racing.
"You are no ordinary sculptor, Seth," the Necromancer said, a sinister tone in his voice. "The highest dimension reaches for you, sings to you. That is why you can hear the metal, because you are far older than this world, and far older than the gossamer threads of time and matter that define it. You can form
Seth made a harsh sound under his breath. "Is that what you tell these people? Part of your myth?"
"Such explanations are unnecessary. Humans revere metal. They cover their temples and their churches with it. They wear it as ornaments of power. They frequently place its value higher than human life. They do this for a reason, though they may only innately realize it. Their knowledge of the universe is instinctual. They sense elements of truth, but have no genuine understanding, no ability to integrate what they feel with the rudimentary technology they have developed. They work to battle, rather than to compose, with superior forces."
Seth narrowed his gaze. "Who are you?"
"A question with too many answers," the Necromancer replied smoothly, his gaze sliding to where Miranda sat on the opposite stage. "And none of them will help you. We both know that you did not come here for me."
Seth looked at the woman seated on the throne, her posture held perfectly erect, her slender hands clasping the armrests. She gazed back at him without recognition, the exotic paint around her eyes creating a dark and beautiful mask.
"What did you do to her?" he asked harshly.
"It was for her own protection. She cannot accept what she has become."
Seth glared at him. "Meaning what?"
The Necromancer sat back in his chair and signaled one of the servers, a woman dressed in a white wig and a pink satin corset. She approached swiftly and placed two silver goblets on the table. Lifting an ornate decanter, she poured a generous amount of red wine into each cup.
The Necromancer raised one of the goblets after she finished, gesturing that Seth should do the same. "Indulge me in this one act of civility, and I will tell you everything you need to know about Miranda."
Seth watched him drink from the goblet. The Necromancer swallowed calmly, seeming to savor the taste of the wine. Then he waited for moment, cup in hand, saying nothing further.
Seth clenched his teeth. Raising his own goblet, he sipped a rich coppery mouthful, prepared to play along if it meant the man might incriminate himself as a kidnapper and torturer.
Satisfaction played in the Necromancer's gaze. He put down the wine, his pale gaze fixing on Miranda. "She came here as a soldier, trained by other soldiers. She understood nothing about herself, nothing about her desires or her fears, her power or her beauty. She had an empty life that she filled with endless missions to faraway places, the pursuit of justice at any cost. Like you, she knew nothing of her true destiny. She approached the Gate believing that it was a human contrivance, a ridiculous misconception given its complexity, but…"
He shrugged, as if it didn't matter. "It was not difficult to draw her away from her protection. It was considerably more difficult to rip away the lies and reveal the fire and truth of the woman, to expose her soul from behind the meaningless societal programming. Her passage was painful, but she merged with the Gate successfully, as I knew she would. She became a goddess."
"Jesus," Seth muttered, working hard to hide his reaction to the veiled description of torture.
"She has immense power, the kind that rarely manifests itself in human form. That is the problem, a problem that only you can help her with."
Seth shook his head, unable to reply to that. He rubbed his hand once across his forehead, frowning as his fingers came away moist. He was sweating, his pulse racing.
"You are no ordinary sculptor, Seth," the Necromancer said, a sinister tone in his voice. "The highest dimension reaches for you, sings to you. That is why you can hear the metal, because you are far older than this world, and far older than the gossamer threads of time and matter that define it. You can form
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