THE SIGMA'S MATE

CHAPTER 18 - MORS DEUS

LYRA

It is an extraordinarily beautiful library. Well maintained and neat doesn't cut it. There is not a spec of dirt or dust anywhere to be found along the shelves that are home to an assortment of ancient and newer looking books. Historical romances, fantasy and fiction are but a few of the genres displayed, and then some of the more boring topics like bibliographies and the history of the four nations, the Werewolf nation included. Not as many books as the Halmara Palace library has, but certainly more preserved. I feel ashamed looking at these immaculately preserved books in comparison to the ones at home. I bet the weapons room is immaculate. I make a mental note to do something about the forgotten three storey library when I return to the palace.

"Do you like books?" An unknown voice asks.

I turn, startled, to find an old man with a strikingly long white beard coming my way in dark blue robes. Strange designs that I don't recognise decorate the sleeves in a mixture of white and silver. I straighten my back, relaxing when I decide that the gentle looking oldie is no threat to me.

I contemplate his question, "I do. Once upon a time it was the only excitement I had in my life. However I find that lately I seldom have time to read anymore. Why do you ask?"

He clasps his wrinkled hands together, "You are looking at them as if you have never seen books before." The old man says, "You should always make time for the things that you love. You never know when it's the last chance you'll have to do it."

"I suppose you are right." I tell the oldie, "I'm sorry, who are you?" I question curiously.

Most of the people sworn to Alaric are in the prime of their lives. It seems strange that he would keep the old man around.

"The librarian, old and almost forgotten much like these books. The names Mors Deus and you are Princess Lyra Agron."

"It seems that my name precedes me. These books do not seem forgotten to me. They are so well cared for." I comment, running a finger over the spines of a few stacked on a lower shelf.

"Cared for and read are two different things. Their stories have been untold for too long." Mors says with a hint of bitterness. Perhaps he is speaking of himself - of his story that is now coming to an end.

"These are all the Sigmas, aren't they?" I ask.

"Alaric ordered them, that's correct. However, this isn't his personal collection."

"You know his name?" I ask, gaping freely.

"He is quite the secretive one, isn't he." Mors chuckles but elaborates no further.

He must be more important than I imagined.

I eye the oldie suspiciously, "And what does he enjoy reading if not the books here?" I ask, unable to contain my curiosity.

"Fantasy. A mortal world where bloodshed and wars and suffering are frowned upon by the masses. A world governed by strict constitutions that prohibit a lot of what we let the Highborns get away with. A world where your species doesn't determine whether someone is lowborn or highborn. A world where two people are together because they chose to be and continue choosing and working on that designed relationship that they have created."

"You seem to know a lot about the Sigma." I muse, my interest in Mors Deus perking up.

Besides his sisters, no one knows very much about the Sigma at all. Not even here, at his tower in the sky, does anyone know a lick about him. Hell, they don't even know his real name or what he looks like without his famous mask. Yet, here is someone else privy to sensitive information. I'm jealous. Jealous of every single person he allows close to him that isn't me. Jealous of his affection and regard. I'm afraid that I might turn out to be quite a bitter person when all is said and done.

Mors Deus sets the record straight, "I have the Sight. I know a lot about a great many people."

"The Sight?"

"I can see the universe unfolding and everything and everyone in it. Some people shine brighter than others, simply because they leave a stronger mark on the world. They impact it in ways that are too monumental to ignore." He says.

"Oh… so you can see the future?" I ask, the thin hairs on my neck standing up.

That's certainly an impressive gift to have. I wonder why Alaric has never mentioned him before. Surely the old man is an asset of great proportion. To see the future and all its trails… It's astronomical.

"Yes. I can even tell you what your next question will be and the entity of our conversation." He smiles strangely, the corners of his eyes wrinkling to reveal deep lines, "But then the future would change, wouldn't it. It's changing all the time. Every second that someone makes a different decision."

"That must be such a burden." I say, completely lost for words.

The old man nods his nod in understanding, "Everyone has burdens. This one is mine." The oldie approaches and stretches out his hands. I reluctantly give him mine, allowing him to pat it fondly, "If I may give you a warning as a person who has seen what is to come. Beware Princess of the Authority, of the dark roads ahead. I can see multiple paths ahead and few end how you wish they will."

My heart picked up a faster pace, "What do you mean?" I ask warily, my voice taking on a high tone.

The old man smiled a sad smile, "I mean, nothing in this world or the next is given freely. Every wish, every want demands p*****t. Most are not worth the sacrifice, especially yours."

I rack my brain for what he could be talking about. Is it my want of a relationship with Alaric? Or perhaps my squabble over the crown with Lazarus? In both cases, they are my birthright. Alaric belongs to me. He was made purely with the intention of being my other half. He is mine! And the throne is mine too. I should have equal opportunity. I am of royal blood and it is just as much mine as it is Lazarus's. So, why should any of these things lead me down dark roads? My life has seemed like one long dark road as it is. When does it end? How do I end it?

"You don't think you would be willing to elaborate, do you?" I ask, giving him my most charming smile.

The old man laughs and it's a cold, heartless sound. It gives me the chills. Quickly, I take my hand back.

"I could. But I've learnt the hard way that interfering has its own string of consequences. So I will not, I have already said too much. You'll have to contemplate my advice well. Some things are better left alone."

His words don't make me feel any better. What should be left alone? It's too vague! I begin to protest but the oldie is already making his escape. Bowing shallow due to his fragile age, Mors Deus then departs with his warning delivered.