“The end of the Universe as we now know it.”
Further translation was sketchy. Many of the words used were unfamiliar to him. But some things were clear. Rupture. Annihilation. To say it didn’t sound good would be a huge understatement.
He had to return to the Twilight for answers, and he had to stay away from Lyssa.
Fissure creation wasn’t the direction he needed to be looking. He needed to know what it was about Lyssa’s ability to see into the Twilight and control dreams that made the Elders so fearful. Why wouldn’t a curious Guardian, like him, be an equal threat? And the stone. What was it? What was its purpose? Why had it been given to him?
And what did this all mean? Were the Elders malevolent or benevolent? He didn’t know, but he couldn’t help thinking that if their cause was just, they would have shared it freely with the Guardians. They’d lied about so much. They said the trip to this world was one-way, but parts of his translation led him to believe otherwise. Why would they hide the ability to travel freely between the conduit and this plane? It was only one of countless unanswered questions.
But, if he was wrong about the round-trip travel, it was possible he could wake again in this world. Aidan’s jaw tightened. He couldn’t allow that to happen if his presence here jeopardized Lyssa. He would have to prevent it. By whatever means necessary.
The water in the shower upstairs turned off, galvanizing him into action. Aidan washed quickly in the downstairs bathroom, then moved to the kitchen, steeling himself inwardly for the parting that was rapidly approaching.
Hearing the low, warbling birdcall that said it was safe to proceed, Connor set his jaw grimly and entered the Temple of the Elders. Using comms wasn’t possible in a situation like this, where their transmissions would be picked up and used against them later. By necessity, this was a stripped-down mission. His favorite kind.
Philip had taken out the guard at the entryway with a blow dart dipped in tranquilizer. Then he’d retrieved it from the unfortunate man’s neck so that no evidence was left behind. The guard would awaken with only the vague sensation of having dozed, perhaps in boredom. Connor would do the same to the lone sentinel in the control room. They hoped their careful planning would prevent them from being both seen and remembered. If they could manage to get some answers and then retreat without being detected, he would consider the engagement a resounding success.
Keeping this objective in mind, Connor moved within the shadows, his senses alert, his steps deliberately planned and timed to avoid being recorded. He entered the middle hallway that led away from the haiden. The hall to the left branched off toward the living quarters of the Elders. The hall to the right led to a secluded, open-air meditation courtyard.
So far, so good.
As he walked, a vibration beneath his feet drew Connor’s attention to the floor. The stone shimmered and became translucent, frightening him for a moment into thinking the ground had completely disappeared and he was about to fall into the endless blanket of stars revealed. He groped for the wall in an instinctive gambit to save himself, then the view of space melted into a swirling kaleidoscope of colors.
“Fuck me,” he breathed.
Arrested by the display, Connor stared agape, wondering if what he was watching was real or a projection of some sort.
Then, knowing time was short, he forced himself to ignore the vertigo caused by the floor and continued on. With each step, ripples of writhing colors spread outward, as if he were walking in a body of shallow rainbow water. Up ahead, he spied an arched entryway and stealthily pressed his back to the wall directly next to it. He glanced inside and saw one Elder bent over a lighted console.
Connor withdrew the dagger at his thigh and held it away from him, angling the shiny blade to catch the reflection of his industriously working target. He would have one shot at this. If he missed, he would give away his position and intent, and set himself up for severe disciplinary action.
So he pulled out his blowgun with his other hand and waited patiently, ignoring the drops of sweat that slid down his temple. When the Elder finally turned away to remove a book from the wall of volumes behind him, Connor filled the doorway, taking the space of a heartbeat to aim before sending the tiny dart flying across the not inconsiderable distance between himself and the Elder.
He then returned to his spot, his gaze on the wildly swirling floor, waiting until he heard the thud of the unconscious Elder falling.
Before he entered the room, Connor whistled, telling Philip that he’d succeeded and to start the clock ticking. The tranquilizer would not hold for long.
“Tell me all your secrets,” he murmured, setting his blade next to him on the control panel. Before him lay a semicircular panel of lighted buttons. Above that, embedded in a raised lip, were a dozen small vid screens, each one displaying a view of various Guardians engaged in their assignments. He stared at the display, his mind faltering at the realization of what exactly he was looking at.