The Calling Cog

36316034 - portrait of a beautiful young victorian lady in white dress.

Her dream is always the same: Marcel’s gentle hands cupping her face as she cries, the two of them holding for their last moments before…

Be brave, my love, he would say. You are strong.

And she would cry. She did not fear the task ahead of her, nor did she fear the demons of a dozen dimensions clawing at the evaporating firmament between their worlds. She was brave and strong and more so for the love that Marcel gave her; but the indefinite separation from him, and the reality of the path he would walk without her, were her certain annihilation. In the dream, she can smell his skin like mint tea. She can see the sorrow in his clear blue eyes, she can see his fear of letting her go. She can feel the warmth of his forehead pressed against hers, the tenderness of his final kisses.

Whatever happens, whatever trick he plays, even his worst cruelty – the Heliograph will keep you safe. I have placed every protection, my darling! My love. If you do not open the door he cannot enter. Be brave, my love. You are strong. 

“But what if…”she would cry. “What if I need you? Where will you be? How will I find you?” Her green eyes pleaded with his for answers and she could see how her words were cutting him. She knew as well as not that his path was dangerous and uncertain and she was frightened of losing him.  She knew that he had no choice but to leave or everything would be lost to him, even herself. They both had their roles to play. She understood all that must happen and he had prepared her well -but still she needed  reassurance. When he left he would take a piece of her heart with him.

His dark curls fell into his eyes as he reached into his pocket and withdrew two golden cogs. He looked at them-they seemed such simple things- and he rubbed them together with eyes full of sadness. He spoke to her softly yet his words were clear and true:

From the day that I met you I have dreamed of the moment that I would give you a ring and make you my wife. In the days since you have made me the happiest of men, the proudest, the most humble.  I know now that any dreams of being with you as I want with all of my mortal heart must wait, and I stand before you a beggar and a fool. 

She can see the light reflect in the tears upon his cheeks as he withdraws a small instrument from his pocket. He uses this to engrave a raven on one side of each of the cogs. Looking into her eyes he falls to his knees before her. He takes her small hand into his and holds it open so that she can feel the coolness of his cheek as he presses her hand to it. She knows the prayer on his lips as he kisses her palm gently.

Into her waiting hand he presses the golden cog. She feels it’s coolness and it’s weight.

This is all that I have, my Dear One. It is my promise to you. If you need me, release this cog into the world below and it will find it’s way to me.  I will come. I shall hold the other until the day we are together again.  On that day I will bring you the rings I so wished to share with you. Then our lives will connect forever and I will never again let you go. 

She sobs and closes her hand around his promise, she draws him near to her and holds his head to her heart.  She knows the exhaustion in her spirit and with every touch he strengthens her. She can not bear the need to release him, in her full glory there would be no need and her weakness angers her.

The earth below them rumbles and the clouds scream. For one last moment they share the warmth of each other’s arms. Before he can leave her she too places a mark and a gift unto each cog. Her solemn promise that no matter the outcome of this calamity, her heart belongs to him forever.

Be brave, my love, he would say. You are strong.

She would turn from him for the last time, take her place upon the platform and speak the words as he had taught them to her:

I am Trianna of Lys.

I am the Axis of the sphere.

I am the hinge upon the doors of the world.

I am the heart of the machine.

As she speaks the words, five hundred and fifty five mechanical mirrors shift- her body becoming as weightless as pure light. Five hundred and fifty five cogs spin in unison raising the platform and her weakened body horizontal to the ground, her auburn hair glowing and radiant in the light of  Celestial Heliograph’s beams which penetrate her chest from above and below. As she speaks light from the cosmos is bent and refracted until the heat of the projected rays burst from the machine and directly through her open heart. As her eyes close she sheds a single silver tear and clutches the golden cog tightly.

With the hope of his promise in her ears she enters the dream- where the Titan awaits.



17 thoughts on “The Calling Cog

      1. You’re discovering at the beginning 😊 starts with the Doctor is Out. Can find under the blog tab or arrows at the bottom. Anyway. I’d love to know your thoughts! Siddhartha is one of my personal favs ☺

        Liked by 1 person

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