Alexander A. Morton.
March 6th 2020.
I had no time to record my findings the day before, as discovery forced mind and hand to action. I am awake in a way that I haven’t felt so in a long time. With a new energy and being, I am me, but not. Fate really did call, and I did not find her wanting. Fate entwined shadow, I met it without fear, but absolute purpose.
I refer to fate as a her, and truly she was. She was the shadow. The one posting clues under my door. The one that I was to meet on the pier at midnight. I went to meet her with a clear mind, and a holstered gun. I wasn’t taking chances at that hour, and I had not known with whom I was to meet in a place so secluded. My time spent with agents has made me cautious. Efficient. Dangerous, even. I hadn’t felt those things true in a while, but something about that moment had awakened them in me. I walked through a city so uncontained, to find that I was the thing contained within myself. Had the dream been the thing to awaken thoughts so?
I moved swiftly, instinctively drawn to shadow as I walked. This was not the movements of a former agent of discovery and enforcement, but something new. Something unknown. I felt and feel stronger than ever before. Every muscle trained and practiced, although unused in time. What was this? What is this? A thing awakened indeed. Something that slumbered, perhaps. A final key to unlocking my forgotten past. The me she left, that never was, but is now becoming.
I arrived, unseen and unheard by those that choose to lurk in the dark. I knew they were there. They always were. The ones that seek a defenceless victim in the night, but in me a defenceless victim they would not find. They and she were not the only shadows that stalked, but perhaps I am one of shadow now too. I saw her there. I could feel her gaze upon me as I approached her silhouetted from that stood sentinel on the pier. Unmoving. Cloaked in black. I noticed something that reflected the moon from beneath.
Gold. As I was near enough, I could see that a blank mask of gold covered her face. The salt of crashing waves stung my eyes, and in the dim light, I could see nothing but that seemingly ancient object that hid the face of fate. Gold and black, green and blue. The colours of that night that would brand itself on my mind.
“Of one,” she began, her voice strangely clear in my mind,
“Search and you will find. Be and you will become.”
I recalled the words from the note as she spoke, and almost spoke them in unison with her.
“You can feel it, can’t you, Alexander? The call. The strength. The power. You are not of, you are of what will be.”
That voice of hers, so quaint and elegant. But there was something absolutely imposing about her. It wasn’t the cloak or hood or mask. It wasn’t her form that utterly remained resolute. It wasn’t even the dagger that I noticed so close to her grasp. It was a feeling boiling in my blood. I could move, but couldn’t, like that moment of my nightmare. My body. My mind. All was enthralled at her mere presence. I remained silent as she continued.
“Did you ever feel like you didn’t quite fit in, Alexander? The way you speak? The way you move? The way words and actions and observations seem to imprint themselves into your psyche? You are not them, and they are not you.” She paused, not waiting for a reply, but to observe. “You are not from here. False memory granted you the freedom from your being, and those that exist, a safety from you. Blood, Alexander. In your blood, we are the same, but more.”
“I don’t understand.” I finally managed to utter.
“That part of you so dormant understands. It is awakening, isn’t it? As mystery calls to you, you call to me. I have known you since time so ancient. You will return. To us, you will return.”
Every word that fell from her mouth spoke true. Now, the more I linger on her words, the more I understand them. Then, eventually, she concluded.
“Find a boat, and with the moon above, set to the ocean. Row north until you can no longer. It will bring you to us. The Order of Three. Beyond blood, you will once again belong.”
With the last of her words, a mighty wave swept the pier. She was gone with the ocean. Not dead, I am sure, but returned to whence she came.
I returned home that night with a mind not so heavy, but focused on what I must do. I was sure of this purpose. She was fate, and I its vessel. My reality had become whole in that moment she spoke, and I had become released of chain and burden. Where all this had begun, a thing so mundane as my couch, was left the tools to complete this man so lost but found. Neatly folded was a cloak of black, silk-like and pristine. A dagger, ornate and obsidian. The mask of gold, blank of feature. And, lastly, that scaled tome of Liz’s that vanished the night before, a new note tucked partly under its front cover. It read, simply;
“Adorn and wield. We will meet again soon.”
This cloak fits like I have worn it for an age. This dagger feels familiar in my hand. The mask is like a friend long lost. A façade become actuality. A shadow become manifest. I feel whole, as never before. I have what I need to conclude this mystery. Obsession did not grasp this mind once fragile, as I had promised. The tendrils that grasped were fate, and I embraced what was placed before me. I know not of where I am about to go, but it is true. In heart and body and mind, it is true. It calls. Of Three, it calls. I am finally of One.
The end… for now.