To Torquemada
Of Life and Death
Syd had just fallen dead.
The Saints of the goddess from the South had crossed the House of Zetha. It was all in the hands of the Captain now. Yet, Bud could not take his eyes off the sight of Syd’s corpse.
The man felt obliged to do something. Why then did he feel that sort of wicked relief within him? That Syd were dead meant only that he was not a shadow anymore. Then, why the pangs in his heart? Why the sudden rush of guilt?
It was all dark. Darker than it had ever been. The darkest night and time he had ever experienced. His only desire had been to stop being a shadow. Had been to see his brother dead and take his place. Why the pain, then?
The man rubbed his eyes, trying to refute what they were showing him. Bud was not even able to cry. Reveries of his childhood and Syd’s and the differences between them, overcame him.
They were not that different, were they?
Same eyes. Same complexion. Same façade.
Same—heart?
Bud took Syd in his arms and carried him to the house of their parents. All along the way. He wondered about his own life and his brother’s death.
He found nothing but a wicked realization into his own soul. The two faces of the same coin. So different. So akin. It all made him smile while his tears silently rolled down his cheeks. It was all resumed to life and death after all.
He walked until he reached the House. A maid opened the door for him and he headed to Syd’s room. There, he put the other on the bed and sat on a chair at his side. Silence. Outside him. Inside him. Silence everywhere.
“It’s true, then.” He murmured, and lowered his head.
Syd was dead.
Ariadne, December 25, 2005