Page 54 of The Godhead Complex
Flare Above
She paced back and forth on her balcony, squeezing the cup of tea to keep her hands from shaking. For the first time in her life, she’d had a dream that was so visceral, so real to life, that it caused her to feel genuine fear. The cold Alaskan night air dried the sweat from her face. She had no doubt in her mind, now. Soon she’d be welcomed into complete madness.
She recited the digits, but she couldn’t empty herself of the dark, lingering feelings of the dream. She remembered every moment, as if it had imprinted itself deep within her cells: hunted down by a metal machine, fire falling from the sky, arrows plunging into bodies.
Alexandra took a sip of tea.
It’s not fire, it’s just the northern lights that have returned, she told herself as she looked out to the sky. But even she couldn’t ignore the red parts of the Aurora Borealis that had grown in strength over the last few days. Red was not a calming color. It was not a color of Evolution, it was a color of danger. The color of fire. Of War.Get it together, Alex.
The Flaring Discipline be damned, the last thing she needed was going mad like Mikhail with his constant talk of dreams and visions.Nicholas did this to her.He must have known she’d try to take over and poisoned her so that she’d slowly go crazy.That must be it?She set down the tea and pushed it away from her along with the Crank-headed thoughts.No, she thought,that’s just the madness talking.
Paranoia and fear can turn a person inside out.
That was it. It was simply the paranoia from earlier, the Pilgrim shouting in the streets of Alexandra’s guilt. She heard it, Flint heard it, everyone heard it. The war she’d dreamed of was just a war within herself—her subconscious mind alerting her conscious mind of the arrows pointed her way. She needed a plan to calm the situation. She looked down at her tea. She smiled to herself. What calmedherwould calm the entire situation.
She knew exactly how to put out the flames of paranoia and accusations.
She grabbed her mustard-yellow cloak and what else she needed from the apartment, then left, headed to the Guardroom.
Alexandra went through the digits as she walked between bushes and brush in the midnight Alaskan air, timing them with her steps. The sky above helped to illuminate the very plant she was looking for: bog rosemary. It grew from the ground with spiky arms to the heavens. Some of the herbs produced flowers, but despite their bog-ridden beauty, she needed only the leaves. After finding it, she snapped off several arms of the plant until she had more than enough rosemary needles, and shoved them into the depths of her cloak.
She walked quickly back toward the Guardroom as she developed her plan. Would her entry be smoother with a disguise?No. The Evolutionary Guard had been on heightened alert since Nicholas’ death. She’d need to enter the Guardroom as the Godhead she was and quell any suspicions for her late night visit.
“1, 2, 3, 5, 8, 13, 21, 34 . . .” She whispered without thinking. The digits were more than just nature’s favorite numbers—they constituted the golden ratio, the spiral that held the start and the end of every single life cycle within them. Trees grew their branches to the specs of the digits. Flowers bloomed seeds to the spiral of the ratio. And Alexandra would help the world evolve to its purest sequence, just as nature intended.
Nature was the great equalizer.
In a matter of hours, she’d address the Pilgrims and all those in New Petersburg with her announcement: the official start of the Evolution. Never mind her own evolution or whatever the fear growing inside her should be called; she couldn’t give it a name other than what it was: Madness. She’d push this nightmare aside and speak to the people in the morning. Delivering hope and solutions to the Pilgrims would be the easy part; they worshiped her and feared the Flare. Convincing the Villa to get the first round of the Cure dispensed, on the other hand, would take some creativity. She’d worry about that later. One plan at a time.
As she approached the Guardroom—the building in town that most resembled the Maze—she waved at two Evolutionary Guards. Not unlike the Maze, this place held its own kind of prisoners.
“Goddess, are you okay?” They rushed to her side. It pleased her to know she still had their loyalty despite the crazed rumors of the Godhead killing their own.
“I had a terrible nightmare and needed to come before morning. The woman who shouted from the streets about Nicholas’ murder? I need to see her.” Before she’d even finished, the Guards ushered her inside the heavily fortified walls of the building. They were all too eager to appease her.
“She’s in the back,” one of the guards said.
The musty air of the Guardroom choked Alexandra. She coughed and coughed.Mold. These older buildings were filled with it. “Is it possible to get some hot water?” She cleared her throat from the thick air that the Guards were probably used to.
“Of course.” One of them led her back while the other went for the water. Alexandra thanked them and followed the Guard through the intricate paths of crumbling arches. She tried to hide her disgust at the state of the Guardroom. It smelled like a warm toilet. Cobwebs gently swayed back and forth in single strands as she walked under them. She wouldn’t be staying long, but she hated that she had to come at all.
“Here you are.” The Guard motioned to a woman behind bars, sleeping on a filthy floor.
Alexandra nodded, putting on her best face of grief and desperation. She held her hand over her heart as she studied the woman’s sleeping face. The poor wretch had thought it blasphemy toplay out the betrayal of Nicholas at such a holy time, but there’d neverbeena more fitting time for betrayal. Alexandra woke up the woman with slow, loud claps for her abysmal performance in town. Startled, she snapped to attention and shuffled to the back of her cell.
She had no pillow, no bed, no pot to piss in.
“Wha—what are you doing here?” The Pilgrim’s empty hands reached below her.
“I just wanted to applaud your performance. You’ve got the town in quite a stir over the Godhead turning on their own.”
“I—I didn’t mention you or Mannus,” the woman whispered, trembling from head to toe.
Alexandra met her absurdity with silence. She would remind the Pilgrim of what it meant to be devout. To have faith. Honor. After a full, uncomfortable minute, Alexandra spoke. “I think it’s terribly unfair that they put you in here for seeking justice in Nicholas’ murder.” The Evolutionary Guard arrived with her hot water. She nodded for him to leave her alone with the prisoner.
“What do you really want?” the unfaithful Pilgrim asked, barely lifting her head.
Alexandra mixed the bog rosemary into the water for tea. She stirred it and stirred it until the smell of rosemary needles intoxicated the air. The prisoner’s eyes widened when instead of sipping the brew, the Goddess offered it to the Pilgrim. “I want you to return to your faith. That is all.” The woman hesitated to take it but Alexandra insisted. “A Goddess is nothing without her people, and you are special to me even if you feel your purpose has been overlooked.”
