Page 57 of Lucifer's Mirror
“Not a lot.” But probably more than Iwantto know.
“Well, we won’t talk of them here, not in the darkness. The shadowguard is a conversation for the light of day.”
“So tell me about the camps. Was it horrible?”
He stares into space, no doubt remembering. From his expression, I’m sure they’re not happy memories. “It was hard,” he says, “but better than many places. We were growing food—so we didn’t go hungry. The work was brutal, but not deadly.”
“And you got out?”
“Obviously,” he replies.
“How?”
Thanouq thinks about that for a long time. I've given up expecting answers when he starts to speak. “There had been a drought that year. Production was down. We were all hungry. And they decided to destroy the camp,” he says. “Eliminate everyone.”
Shock flares through me.
“It was less trouble than moving us all. There are plenty more slaves to find. Far easier than trekking a hungry mob across the continent.”
“That’s horrible.” Though "horrible" really isn’t a strong enough word for it.
Thanouq smiles, the first sign of amusement I’ve seen all night, and it’s genuine, reflected in his eyes. “We thought so as well. We decided it wasn’t a good idea, and we refused to comply.”
“How old were you?” I ask.
“Eleven. I should have died there. Many lost their lives protecting me. I hadn’t realized until that day just how protected I was in the camps. There was a group who knew my heritage and had sworn an oath to keep me safe. Therion looked out for me as well. We watched each other’s backs. He was only ten, but he fought fiercely that day. We both did. But then, we were fighting for our right to exist.”
I’d thought I had it bad just because I couldn’t remember who I was. But Thanouq had lost his parents when he was only four, became a slave, and fought to the death when he was still a child.
“Who ran the camps?” I ask.
“Some shadowguard, but mostly humans. There are many followers of Lucifer on Valandria. Right from the start, there were many who believed his silky lies of a better world. But then they were left with nothing to believe in after the Astrali withdrew.”
“The Astrali? That’s Khaosti’s lot? Where did they withdraw to?”
“They went home. To Astrali—the Astral Plane.”
“And that’s where?”
“Another dimension. You can only get there through the mirrors, and they are getting fewer and fewer.”
“What’s it like?” I ask, curious about where Khaos comes from.
“I don’t know. I have never been beyond Valandria. But Khendril told me that all the mirrors lead to a central place on Astrali.”
And I realize I've been there—the rooms with all the mirrors, the in-between place. “So there are just three worlds: Astrali, Valandria, and Earth?”
“Again, I believe so. It’s said that the God Vortex created Earth and Goddess Selene created Valandria as playgrounds for their children, the Astrali. And they played and were worshipped as gods. But they are a selfish people. They take and take and give nothing in return. Then, when Lucifer appeared and the war escalated, when we were in greater need of the gods than ever, they all but disappeared from Valandria.”
“When was this?”
“Around five thousand years ago.”
“Wow.”
“I don’t think anyone really remembers what started it all. It’s lost in time.”
I go over the conversation, and something occurs to me. “Wait, you’re saying Khaosti’s people are gods?” Wow, that might go a long way toward explaining his attitude.
