Life to Live

It took Solaire a moment to process this fully. “…her uncle?” he repeated mechanically.

“Yes.”

That would mean that… “You’re Adelaide’s brother?” he asked, slightly astonished. The age difference between this child and the woman sleeping across the house…she had to be nearly twice his age!

Deus nodded. “I was her older brother.” He smiled slightly, sadly. “But I died when I was fourteen years old. She was thirteen.”

“Oh…” Solaire said. “I’m sorry.”

Deus shook his head. “It is fine now,” he said, “though I think my sister grieves for me still, more so with this child’s slow death.”

Solaire tried to wonder why Adelaide’s daughter dying would make Deus’s death, years before, worse.

“She is dying of the same illness I died of,” Deus added.

“Oh!” Now Solaire understood. “Oh, I’m so sorry for her.” Now Solaire wanted more than ever to do something to help her.

At least it would take his mind off of losing Arianne…

“Yes,” Deus continued. “I have come here because…” Deus trailed off, seeming uncertain.

Solaire looked up at him. “Yes?” he said gently.

Deus looked hesitant to go on. “You want to help my niece, yes?”

“Of course,” Solaire said, barely wondering how Deus knew this. “I want to help her…” He wondered if Deus knew Solaire had nearly killed Adelaide’s child.

“I know you almost killed her,” Deus interrupted. “The test was that you were supposed to decline immediately, begging another way for entrance into Heaven. If you’d killed Aline, you would’ve gone right away to Hell, for only a cruel individual, a monster would kill to get into Heaven.”

Solaire’s face drained. He’d nearly been a monster…

“However,” Deus continued, obviously noticing Solaire’s face but ignoring it, “you did neither. You almost killed her but stopped yourself at the last moment, so you neither warrant Hell nor do you merit Heaven. Instead you are granted Purgatory, unseen by devils and angels alike, and mostly invisible to the living world. You are like a shadow of the world, destined to wander the world without being a part of it. In most cases you would forget everything, all your memories faded away by time, and you would simply become a drifting spirit, disconnected from the world and yet watching it idly, separate from all the other spirits and roaming the world alone, cut off from any communication with another being.”

Solaire’s heart sank to his stomach. This wasn’t the fate he wanted. All he wanted was to be with Arianne. And now he was condemned to eternity alone?

“This is almost as bad as hell,” he murmured. “At least there you can communicate with your tormentor…”

“I’m not done yet,” Deus interrupted, holding up a finger.

Solaire cut off, surprised by the imperial gesture and a little peeved to be commanded this way by someone who looked fourteen, no matter if they were an angel and much older.

“You are different,” said Deus, and paused, staring at him for a moment. “I don’t know how many breaks you’ve been given…first a chance by our Holy One to join her, and then escaping Hell after nearly murdering my niece. But I guess it’s in your nature to act out of the ordinary, therefore escaping the ordinary punishments and trials most other spirits undergo.”

A small smile spread across Solaire’s face. He’d always been considered out of the ordinary…one of the reasons why Arianne had come to love him so dearly. And now it was saving him again.

“Before our Holy One and our Keeper left,” it took Solaire a moment to realize he was talking about Arianne and Janus, “what were you doing?”

Solaire reflected back. “Ah…comforting Adelaide?” It was strange to say this to Deus, knowing he was the woman’s older brother

“What was it exactly you said that comforted her?” Deus was straightforward in his question. More so than one expected from a teenaged boy.

“I said,” Solaire thought to himself, “I said I’d make sure Aline wouldn’t die…” His words got quieter as he realized what he’d done. Made a false promise to Adelaide.

If he couldn’t prevent his own death at the hands of his lover, how would he prevent a child’s death at the hands of disease?

“Through me.”